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akaashisbabygirl · 4 years ago

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you’re just a game he likes to play

pairings: akaashi x female!reader

genre: angst, romance, NSFW 18+

warnings: use of drugs, drinking, vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), angst angst angst

words: 2.6k

a/n: i’m sorry for not posting as much. i’ve always wondered how people write really long fics, and here i am. i spent last night + this morning working on this, so i hope you all enjoy <3 this i planned to be a one shot so i probably won’t be doing a part two

‘are you awake right now?’

akaashi’s fingers ghosted over his phone, a slight cringe filling his mind as he thought about sending the message. eventually, everyone around him started to pick up on his quiet, drunken tone.

“who’s the girl you’re texting?” kenma asked.

“it’s no one...” he said back softly, locking his phone. as much as he tried to play it off as if he wasn’t texting anyone, he knew that one of the boys were going to comment about it sooner or later.

“come on man, we all know it’s hayami,” kuroo interrupted. akaashi knew kuroo meant it as a joke. as much as akaashi knew that kuroo was joking, yet there was still that smirk that rested on kuroo’s face that akaashi was so desperate to punch. it had been a year since akaashi had fallen out of love with hayami, a girl he knew he stood no chance with.

within that year, things had changed. he never used to drink or anything. he had changed so much. it bugged him whenever the other men talked about love and girls. he started to think why it couldn’t be him, why he couldn’t be the one talking about a girl he loves. he wanted to express the love he felt for the girl that ended up catching him by surprise when he least expected. the same type of love that everyone thought was for hayami.

one thing that akaashi was clear of was that he was deeply, and drunkenly in love with you.

like his friends knew, there had been a time in his life when he was in love with hayami. but after finding out that she had hooked up with one of his high school friends after she had told him that she loved him, akaashi started to fall out of love; and while he was in his broken state was when you came along. just when he needed.

everyone in the group was sure that akaashi was going to always be in love with hayami, only because she was said to be the hottest girl on campus; and he himself was a very good looking guy. everyone wanted her. unfortunately, akaashi’s friends couldn’t see that the love he had once felt for her had now died down into the pit of his chest.

however, despite telling himself that he had fallen out of love with hayami, he also hid behind the thoughts of your beautiful soft hair and the way you felt so small compared to him behind the fact that he still loved hayami. because, what is the point of loving someone who is just your closest friend?

akaashi brought the glass of alcohol to his lips once more, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat. he sighed as he just about finished his third glass. had the room gotten louder? it had gotten to the point where he couldn’t make out the words of what his friends were saying. it was just too loud.

he desperately wanted to text you. he wanted to send you cute messages about wanting to cuddle you, and kiss you and about how much he misses your touch and how he loves the feeling of your tiny body against his. after his third glass, those thoughts began to turn sexual. he felt different. had the others given him something?

he remembered asking kuroo earlier in the night for something that would ‘take his mind off of everything’, maybe kuroo had given him something. his hands held onto the glass again as he watched the man across from him fill his glass again.

his hands fiddled with his phone again. he so desperately wanted to message you right now, but his mind was clouded with sexual thoughts that he had never thought about before. he thought about how good he would be able to fill you up, how small you would be against him. he closed his eyes and sighed to the thought mentally. he wasn’t a pervert, at least he thought he wasn’t.

the two of you were just friends. he respected the boundaries of your friendship. he wasn’t going to push you, he didn’t even know if you felt the same way about him. but once again, his mind and everyone around him kept telling him that he was in love with hayami.

‘stick with the girl that all your friends know you love. you don’t wanna ruin your friendship with her’ said the narrator inside his mind, as if he was telling akaashi what to do instead of letting him figure this madness out on his own.

akaashi stood up from the chair, making his way to the bathroom. after minutes, he was looking at his messy reflection in the bathroom mirror. he knew it was time to go home. he could see it in his reflection. he was drunk. drunk and in love. he wanted you by his side right now. maybe fixing his jacket or his hair. how you would be on your tiptoes just to try and reach him. how fucking cute. or how you would stand on your tiptoes to try and reach his lips.

akaashi left the house, standing outside on the street waiting for a cab to pull up.

“what’s the address?” the man asked.

without a thought, he gave the man your street name. space and time had began to blur, his phone in his hands as the thought of you rushed throughout his mind.

you were in your room, sitting on your bed in an oversized shirt. your eyes scanned along the messages what you had just received from akaashi.

‘are you awake?’ 2:43AM

one missed call. 2:49AM

‘i miss you’ 2:54AM

‘i need your touch’ 2:58AM

one missed call. 3:02AM

‘need you so badly’ 3:06AM

he was high.

you knew he was. there was no way in hell akaashi would ever text you like this. he was in love with hayami. you were sure about this. you felt a stinging pain in your chest because it was obvious that you were deeply in love with akaashi keiji. you hated the way you were so badly separated from even being close to a relationship with him because the narrator in your mind always came back to remind you that akaashi was in fact in love with hayami.

your fingers typed back.

‘i am not hayami. you have the wrong contact’ 3:10AM

there was no reply back. you thought that maybe he reached hayami’s apartment and that he was currently somewhere with her right now. you threw a pillow over your head.

he was such an amazing man. you had fallen in love with the person that he is, how he would always be there whenever you needed him so desperately. he helped you when you were down. it made you mad that hayami only wanted akaashi for his popularity around campus and not for the amazing person that he is.

it was hard to try and get over those feeling that were painfully stabbing your heart. you wanted to be with him. god, you wanted to be with him so fucking badly. but you knew that it would never happen.

because akaashi was in love with hayami.

the sound of knocking on your door threw you out of your haze. you checked your phone. no new messages from him. you opened the door, your eyes widening as his drunken state stood right in front of you. you hated to admit that he always took your breath away, even right now. he was so tall compared to you.

“can i come in?” his voice asked softly.

you nodded your head, opening your door further so he could come inside.

akaashi sat himself down on your couch. he looked lost. he was lost. he watched as you sat down next to him, your eyes not even looking in his direction.

“are you... um... cold?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

you shook your head, silence running throughout the apartment.

“let me stay,” he blurted out. in fact, he had surprised you.

“you’re drunk,” you hated to admit the fact that his tone was deep and intoxicating.

your fingers gripped his chin harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. you looked directly into his eyes. “and i don’t want to sit here and listen to you drunkenly express your love for hayami. not tonight.”

he watched as you pulled away from him, “i don’t love hayami! i don’t love her, i don’t know why you would think that!”

you stood up, trying to leave the room. you didn’t want to be around him right now. however, his hand gripping onto your wrist stopped your movement entirely.

without thinking, your hand slapped his cheek. hard. you were so angry. angry at the fact that you kept putting up with the same shit after knowing he didn’t feel the same way about you. tears perked in the corners of your eyes as you tried to control your emotions.

his beautiful face was inches away from yours as he pulled you to sit back down on the couch. his soft lips met yours for the first time. the two of you sighed into the kiss, almost as if it was some sort of relief for the both of you. his kisses were gentle, even if he was messily drunk right now. he was always gentle with you.

a soft groan escaped his lips as you opened your mouth, his tongue finding its way easily. he softly whispered against the kiss, “let me taste you... please.”

so polite.

you pulled your lips from his, looking into his blue coloured eyes. your lips partly opened. he saw your shy little nod.

“that’s my girl.”

the next few minutes had went by slowly. his lips attacked yours, his large hands pulling your body to straddle his waist, your clothed cunt pressing against his growing erection. his hands helped you grind against him as his tongue explored your mouth. your hands held tightly onto his shoulders as his hands grasped your ass.

akaashi stood up, having you stand up with him. he walked you down to your bedroom, his lips stayed attached to yours.

the two of you made your way into the bedroom, akaashi’s jacket long discarded somewhere on the floor of the apartment. he gently pushed you down onto the bed.

his hands found your thighs, spreading your legs open. his touches were soft and careful. he didn’t want to hurt you.

“tell me what you want me to do.”

“i want you to touch me,” you said as he removed his shirt, “please touch me.”

his hand found your ankle and lifted your leg slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto your ankle. akaashi kissed his way up your leg, his fingers removing your underwear.

his hands pushed your skirt up, his hands now grasping your legs with a firm grip. all his attention was on your womanhood now.

“so fucking pretty.”

he gathered your slick with his tongue, before drawing circles on your clit. he loved how your moans started to grow in pitch.

you affected him more than the alcohol did.

your hands clenched onto the bedsheets so tightly. he listened to your moans as his tongue ran along your messy cunt. he knew that you were holding yourself back. he could tell that your hands were clenching tightly onto the bedsheets, holding yourself back from grinding on his face.

one of his hands moved from holding your thighs down to toy with your clit. he could feel your body shaking and squirming underneath his large build.

akaashi never pulled away. even when you were starting to cum on his tongue. one of your legs had made their way onto his shoulder, the other around your waist.

akaashi’s face was coated with your juices. he removed his fact from your cunt, looking at you.

“i need to ask you... do you want to continue?”

you almost wanted to cry out now. akaashi had just made you cum. he was here right now, in between your legs, shirtless looking at you. you loved him. you loved him so fucking much. you couldn’t believe that this was happening right now.

“i want to.”

“yeah?” he placed your leg back down onto the bed, “tell me exactly what you want from me.”

“i want you to fuck me. please... fuck me.”

akaashi gave you a little smirk as he reached for his belt. the sound his belt made caught your attention quickly, your eyes darting to his lower parts.

you watched as he removed his pants and boxers. the size of his length made you press your knees together.

“i-its not gonna fit,” you mumbled softly, a deep red blush spreading over your cheeks.

akaashi chuckled, “i’ll make sure it fits.”

his voice was soft. he made you feel okay, made you feel safe. akaashi helped you remove the shirt from your body, “look how pretty you are.”

akaashi’s fingers found your entrance in no time. he pushed two fingers into you, listening to how you started moaning again. he loved the feeling of your tight walls around his fingers. he watched you clench around his fingers and with the beautiful moans you were giving him, he was ready to make you cum again. his skilled digits curled inside of your cunt, a cry falling from your lips as he did so.

akaashi leaned down to kiss your open mouth. you could feel him smiling into your mouth.

“i’m ready,” you mumbled out against the kiss, “akaashi, fuck me, please.”

akaashi removed his fingers from you, gathering your juices with the tip of his cock. he made sure he coated himself before pushing the tip in. he could hear your small voice whimpering and your soft pants.

he looked at you, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to his size. he softly kissed both of your tears.

“s-so big,” you whispered against his lips as you felt akaashi slowly start thrusting.

he smirked, his head dipping down to your neck to suck and kiss your skin. he looked at you, your voice broken and whimpering. you were crying for his cock. you could feel him twitch inside of you. he pulled his dick out before pushing back in, looking at where your bodies were connected.

akaashi could see the little bulge on your lower stomach. he grabbed onto your small hand, placing it down on your lower stomach so you could feel him. he gave you another deep thrust. your body moved with his thrusts. akaashi watched as your little body shook uncontrollably whenever his hips met with yours.

even akaashi was under the impression that your small body wouldn’t be able to fit him, but it was almost as if you were made for him.

“you feel so good around my cock.”

akaashi angled your legs, hooking them to his arms. the new angle made your eyes roll to the back of your head. one of your hands grabbed a handful of his hair, making him throw his head back. your lips pressed softly along his jawline.

“s-so good, s-so fuckin’ good,” you moaned against his skin.

your forehead met with his as his thrusts became deeper and deeper. his voice was broken, his cock twitching.

“cum inside me,” you mumbled softly, soft enough for him to hear. his thrusts were deep and he could feel you climax around his length.

“i love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your skin, “so fucking much that it hurts.”

“i know,” you cooed, kissing his cheek softly, “i love you too.”

he finished inside of you. you saying that was the last thing he remembered. he felt so safe in your arms, naked and bodies tangled. he knew his cum was dripping from your stretched hole. he fell asleep there in your arms.

you felt so at home, so safe in this moment. you shut your eyes too, falling asleep, enjoying this moment.

because deep down, you knew that in the morning, you weren’t hayami.

#nsfw—🎟#haikyuu smut #akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #keiji smut

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years ago

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Mist | Choi San | Chapter 3

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 9.9k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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"But I want to sleep..." Seohyun complained.

"Is sleep more important to you than us?" Wooyoung asked.

"Of course it is. Is that even a question?" Seohyun raised her brow and Wooyoung gaped at her.

"We've been friends for long now, Wooyoung, I thought you knew better not to ask questions like these," Yeosang said, laughing.

It had been more than a month now since that incident with San. Seohyun looked at each of them slowly, smiling. Despite herself, she had gotten quite used to the company of these boys. And they were EIGHT. It was hard to not be alone. Even if some of them were busy, the rest would always fool around after school as well.

Seohyun had gotten to know them well now too. She knew that Hongjoong, the oldest, also acted like one. He had a thing for fashion, and had reformed her navy blue cap that she always wore, embroidering a cat on it.

Seonghwa was the mom of this group for sure. He was always keeping them in check, always stopping them from doing something stupid (which was most of the times) and always helping them with homework. He was very caring, and he couldn't hide that part of himself.

Yunho was the clown of the group, and surprisingly, she was getting along with him and Yeosang quite well. Yeosang and her had the savageness in common, which mixed well with Yunho's humor. Since the three sat next to each other, they would always pass a joke or two to her even during class, and she had to beg them to stop one too many times.

Wooyoung and Mingi were quite funny too. There was just something contagious about their smiles. Seohyun found herself smiling a lot in their company. It didn't help that Wooyoung laughed like a hyena; even when she had no reason to laugh, she'd burst out laughing when she heard Wooyoung laugh.

She was getting along well with Jongho too, especially because they were paired for a project. She hadn't had the chance to talk to him much but once she did, she found that he was actually quite witty despite his dad jokes, and that he loved singing and... breaking apples. Which was weird but it was fun to see how strong he was.

"All you do is sleep, Seohyun. You have to come with us now," San insisted.

Seohyun stared at San. She was glad they were out of danger -for now. The old ghost had finally moved on after realizing that killing Seohyun was not worth it (thanks to Jiwoo). San had gotten close to Jiwoo as well. When she was not hanging out with the boys, she was with San. He liked being in her company because apparently 'he didn't want to look stupid alone staring at the distance'. He could see all sorts of ghosts now and Seohyun was helping him practice differentiating between the living and the dead.

"All right, but if I see something stupid, I leave. Okay?" Seohyun locked eyes with him and he nodded assuredly, smiling and showing off his dimples.

Hongjoong had been insisting that she finally come to their 'second home'. Apparently it was a warehouse that Hongjoong's father owned but had no use for so Hongjoong turned it into a place for him and the boys to hang out. She had no idea what they did there, and they finally wanted to show her the place because they all 'approved of her now and accepted her as one of them'.

The warehouse wasn't far from school so they decided to walk there. The black cat was walking with them now. San bent to pick her up, patting her head.

"Still didn't come up with a name?" Seohyun asked.

"You rejected Shiber. I don't want any other name," San pouted.

"I told you you could call it Shiber, I'll just... call it whatever I call her... hey what do I even call her?" Seohyun wondered.

"You never actually call her, do you?" San laughed a little, caressing the cat's neck, "She sticks to you, and you didn't even give her a name. I'm disappointed in you."

"I couldn't find the right name," Seohyun mumbled, frowning.

"Still, she's been your friend for what, like a year now-"

"FINE. Shiber. That sounds like a male name though."

"It's my plushie's name, but she reminds me of it," San admitted.

"You're naming my cat after a plushie? SAN!" Seohyun punched San's arm, making him laugh out loud. Wooyoung joined them, grinning.

"San's had that plushie since he was a kid," Wooyoung said. "I'm not surprised that he couldn't come up with any other name."

"You should've told me before, I would have never allowed him to name the cat then..." Seohyun shook her head but grinned.

"We're here!" Hongjoong announced, and Seohyun took off her sunglasses as she looked at the large warehouse, the sun reflecting harshly back at her, making her eyes water.

They went inside, Seohyun stepping in last and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mingi turned the light on, and she ran her eyes around.

"Woah," she breathed. It really did feel like a 'home'. The place had everything they could think of; sofas, couches, tables, a fridge for snacks, a basket for basketball, and so many musical instruments and equipment. "Are you guys secretly famous musicians or what?"

"Nothing like that," Seonghwa laughed, "We just really like music. Hongjoong is always making songs though. We fool around."

"I wouldn't call this 'fooling around'," Seohyun said, walking towards the equipment, stopping mid-way. "Can I?"

"Of course," several of them replied, nodding. She smiled as she ran her fingers across the piano, looking at the speakers and the mics. She saw some pages, probably lyrics scribbled on them, lying on the table near.

"So you guys... make music? Do you want to be idols or something?"

"For now, we're just exploring," Jongho replied, "Who knows? Maybe some of us might want to go into the musical side."

"So you all sing?"

"I'm the rapper," Mingi said, "Hongjoong raps too."

Seohyun made an impressed face. She pressed some of the piano keys, and something clicked at her mind. She looked up at Hongjoong as a grin spread across her face. "So that's why your fingers are always tapping at the desk. You make music!"

"Oh? I'm surprised you noticed," Hongjoong admitted.

"It's hard to not notice when you're sitting in my vision with fingers tapping nonstop while I'm trying to focus in class. You were doing something like this today, weren't you?" Seohyun said and played the keys that had unintentionally been printed in her memory.

"Woah, I'm more surprised that you remembered it!" Hongjoong clapped in disbelief and then narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you... know how to play?"

"The piano? Not much. But I have a drum set at home," Seohyun said and she saw as the boys looked at each other, applauding her.

"What?" Seohyun asked.

"We knew there was something about you," Wooyoung went on dramatically, waving his hands as he said "who knew we had a shared passion for music?"

"I wouldn't call it 'passion' per se, it's more of a... hobby. A stress-reliever, if you will. And stop ogling at me like you guys won a jackpot. I know what's going through your heads, and I say no."

"But you can play!" Mingi wailed, "We need more people to play the instruments! These guys-" he pointed at the boys one by one, "-they never learn!"

"Hey, hey, hey, look who's saying! Didn't you want to learn drums? What happened to that?"

"I don't have a drum-set!"

"I can play too!" Jongho and Yeosang complained.

Seohyun watched as the boys started arguing among themselves, and she shook her head. She had never imagined they like making music this much. If she had known, she might not have told them about her drums, much less her room full of instruments at a time like this.

"If you don't shut up, I'll never bring any instrument here."

"You mean you will if we shut up?" San asked, followed by Seonghwa who said, "You have more than one instrument?"

Seohyun sighed. "This is overwhelming, okay? Like I respect what you do, but I'm still new to being friends with you all, and it would take me some time to open up to you guys about the instruments. It's just... I have some memories- I don't really want to go back there."

"Oh..." San raised his brow and she bit her lip. She hadn't lied. She had some memories attached to those instruments that she would rather forget. It had been about two years since she'd played. She wanted to shut out that part of herself. She wanted to throw those instruments, but she hadn't been able to.

"Can you just... tell me which instruments you have, other than the drums?" Hongjoong asked cautiously.

Seohyun rolled her eyes. "Drums, bass, electric-"

"WOW!" Wooyoung gasped out very loud.

"-and violin. And I can play piano and guitar too. But it's been like two years since I last played so I'm probably very rough now..."

"Is one of your parent a musician or what?" Yunho asked.

"No, the drums were my mom's. The rest, I bought them when I was going through a phase."

"A phase. Wow," Yeosang snickered, earning daggers from Seohyun.

"Alright, we won't pressure you or anything. But you're free to play the piano if you want to," Yunho suggested, "and you're free to do whatever you want."

"Thanks for understanding," Seohyun muttered, smiling at him.

"But I wanted to learn the drums..." Mingi wailed.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to teach you," Seohyun said nonchalantly, making him smile his famous gummy smile.

"So anyways, what's with those mirrors?" Seohyun asked.

"Oh, that? We like to dance too," Jongho said.

"Oh my god. You guys should stop watching all those idol videos..."

"But we're good at it!" Wooyoung laughed, "And anyways, even if we don't go down that route, we love doing it anyway. It's our way of releasing stress."

"Sure," Seohyun nodded.

"Don't tell me you can dance too," Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh no. I don't think I can," Seohyun admitted. Unless you could count those random 3 am sad twerks as dancing. The boys watched as she suspiciously tried to avoid their gaze, looking around.

"So now that we've told you so much about ourselves, how about you tell us something that we don't know?" Jongho suggested.

"I don't know what's there to tell," Seohyun said, her eyes unintentionally falling on San who lightly shook his head.

"Anything. Something. It's just that we'd like to know you more," Seonghwa smiled warmly at her.

"How about you just ask me and I'll answer? Because it feels like I'll never be able to start myself..."

"Or how about," Yeosang started, a devilish smile spreading across his face, "we play truth or dare?"

"Oh no..."

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Yeosang made everyone sit in a circle, and though very reluctant at first, Seohyun had to sit down too (after being dragged by Wooyoung). They discussed the rules; they could choose between truth or dare, and if a person didn't want to answer a question they should just say so instead of lying, which would earn them a penalty.

Hongjoong spun the bottle, and Seohyun prayed it would never land on her. At least not today. She wasn't feeling it. She still thought that the eight of them were well knit as they were, they didn't need her between them.

The bottle landed on Yunho, and he laughed nervously. Jongho asked truth or dare, and he replied with dare. Not fair, Seohyun thought. She wasn't sure she would ever choose dare. She had no idea what sort of dares they were gonna give.

"Alright, show us your golden retriever! You haven't done that in a long time!"

"Golden retriever?" Seohyun asked. She had heard them talk about it once or twice, but she had no idea what it was about.

"Ah, I'm getting nervous~" Yunho laughed awkwardly. She supposed it was because he was gonna do it in front of her for the first time.

"Come on, don't be shy," Wooyoung teased and he nodded, taking in a deep breath. He turned his head back, then looked forward, his eyes a bit wide as he made a paw out of his hand and flicked it, barking in the cutest way possible.

Seohyun was silent for a moment before she burst out laughing. She was howling at this point, making the rest of them laugh too.

"At least I made her laugh!" Yunho said proudly.

Seohyun wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. "That was hilarious. You really do look like a puppy, Yunho."

"Thanks?" Yunho said and laughed.

"Alright, next!" Jongho said, spinning the bottle, and to Seohyun's relief, it stopped at Hongjoong who was right next to her. He wailed.

"I choose... dare."

"You all are gonna end up choosing dare. I'll be the only one choosing truth it seems," Seohyun groaned.

"You know what to do," Yeosang said, locking eyes with Wooyoung who nodded. "Michael Jackson impression."

"NO! I CHOOSE TRUTH!"

"It's too late to turn back now!" San said.

"It's embarrassing enough to do it even in front of one of you, and now there's EIGHT of you. Alright. Here goes nothing." Hongjoong got up and straightened his clothes. He took a few steps back so everyone could see. He made the famous pose and sang Billie Jeans, attempting to mimic Michel Jackson's style. It would have been okay if everyone hadn't burst out laughing, making Seohyun laugh a little too.

"How did you even come up with this?" Seohyun asked in disbelief.

"I don't even remember now..." Hongjoong pouted. He spun the bottle, and it landed on Wooyoung.

"Truth," he smiled rather proudly, folding his arms.

"Who do you love more, Hongjoong or Seonghwa?" Yeosang asked. The rest of them laughed as Wooyoung's eyes went wide in panic.

"That's like you're asking if I like mom or dad more! Isn't this unfair?"

"Who did you like more though?" Jongho asked.

"Mom-"

"You like Seonghwa more. Alright, next!" Hongjoong concluded, leaving Wooyoung attempting to explain that it was not like that anymore and he liked both of them equally, but everyone was ignoring him. Seohyun thought it must be an inside joke too.

"Your turn," San smirked at her. Seohyun, who had been distracted and hadn't seen the bottle spin, eyed them suspiciously.

"I move my eyes off the bottle for a second and it lands on me. Are you sure you didn't cheat?"

"We did NO SUCH THING," Wooyoung huffed.

Seohyun locked eyes with each of them. "Fine. Truth."

She watched as the boys looked at each other, suggesting questions while Seohyun tried to calm the rumbling storm of nervousness in her stomach. Should she have gone with dare?

"Can we ask... anything?" Mingi looked at her and Seohyun shrugged.

"I mean, we're friends now, right? So go ahead. If I think it's too personal, I'll say so." Seohyun nodded and the boys looked at each other before finally turning to her.

"What's the real reason you don't have friends?"

Seohyun's eyes unintentionally went to San's, and the boys noticed, looking between the two of them. San shrugged, as if saying 'I tried.'

"Does... San know something?" Seonghwa asked cautiously.

"You don't have to answer, you know that right?" Yeosang added.

Seohyun sighed deeply, nodding. She looked at San again, who nodded back, pointing behind her and mouthing Jiwoo. Seohyun sighed in relief now. She might as well give it a try.

"Since you guys shared something today, I will too. But it's kind of... weird. Unbelievable. You might think I'm lying. You might think worse things. Whatever you think, do tell me, because I can prove it."

"Don't tell me you're some sort of a secret agent," Yeosang said, earning a slap from Hongjoong who shushed him.

"Alright, we'll hear you out," he said.

"I... can see ghosts. The dead."

There was a moment of silence before Jongho raised his eyebrow. "What? You mind saying that again?"

"I said I can see the dead. I can see ghosts. I can touch them. I help them move on."

While the boys exchanged looks, still in disbelief, San smiled at her and Seohyun nervously laughed. She had finally said it out loud.

"So you can... see ghosts? Like in the movies?" Mingi asked.

"Yep. They're just like us. Unless they're old."

"How do we believe you? I mean, you could be joking," Yunho asked.

"Well, San knows," Seohyun said, and everyone looked at San, who nodded, then looked back at her.

"How does he know?" Wooyoung asked.

"Long story. He got caught up in something, which led him to discover my secret and eventually led him to seeing ghosts too."

"You both are mad." Wooyoung laughed nervously.

"You want proof?" Seohyun challenged.

"Sure. I can do with that," Wooyoung folded his arms, anticipating.

"Alright folks, you're in for a surprise," Seohyun heard Jiwoo say. Jiwoo rubbed her hands and went near Seohyun, picking her hair and making it look like it was flying in the air.

The boys... shouted.

"MEDUSA!" She heard someone shout amidst them. San tried to calm them down but it was no use. They all were... freaking out, to put it simply. Half of them were gasping while the other half was laughing in disbelief.

Jiwoo dropped her hair down and they watched as she pulled the sunglasses off her shirt and the glasses magically disappeared.

"Where did the glasses go?" Wooyoung asked.

"Ji- the ghost. Her name is Jiwoo. She's a friend of mine. So when she takes something of mine, it would disappear once I'm not holding it anymore. But-" Jiwoo handed her the glasses back and they watched it appear out of thin air, "when she gives them back, here they are."

"Is this... magic or really a ghost?" Jongho asked.

"It's a ghost, believe me," San finally said.

"So you can see ghosts now too? How?"

"Let me explain," Seohyun said, and narrated the events, giving a little backstory about how she was born with this, and that she actually helped ghosts move on.

"That's kind of cool though," Yunho commented.

"Wouldn't call it cool," Seohyun muttered and Seonghwa noticed.

"It must not be easy to live like this..." he said, and she hesitantly nodded.

"Is that why you changed schools so often?" Hongjoong asked and she nodded. The boys looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that again," Yeosang said, "We'll help you. You won't have to move again if something happens."

"It's not that easy, Yeosang. If something unexplainable happens, I won't be able to hide it."

"Oh don't worry about that," Mingi laughed, "unexplainable things always happen to me. We'll cover for you, trust me."

Seohyun was, for the first time, touched by how earnest they sounded. They really were a weird group of friends.

"I'm kind of jealous that San can see ghosts now too," Hongjoong sulked. "Can't we see too?"

Before Seohyun could answer, everyone else burst into complains too about how they wanted to see too. "Hey hey," Seohyun began, "first of all, it's too risky. I almost died and then San was able to see."

"WHAT!"

"You forgot to tell them that part," San muttered.

"Ah, right. So when I had to teleport San, we ended up in the other dimension, right? So I had to teleport again, and I had a massive nosebleed plus headache. I passed out too."

"Oh..."

"Even if it was easy, I would never do that to you. And I wish I could take it away from San. I wish it would fade," Seohyun said, and San looked at her, shocked. He had not expected this.

"It's not about it being cool, San," she locked eyes with him, "Being able to see ghosts mean you're attracting danger every second. Thank god you can't touch them. That means they're not able to touch you, not directly. I want you all to be safe, that's why I won't ever do that to the rest of you."

There was a moment of heavy silence, then Seonghwa broke the ice. "I understand. It's okay, you don't have to do that. We want you to be safe too, so if you're ever in some sort of danger, don't hesitate to ask for help."

"Thanks Seonghwa, I really appreciate it." Seohyun smiled.

"It's really unbelievable though. What does this ghost look like?" Wooyoung asked, eyes brimming with curiosity.

Seohyun grinned a little. "Well, she's a girl. Jiwoo. She's about my height, has long black hair with red streaks. Has a mole on her cheek. Also, she's weird-"

Jiwoo kicked Seohyun's back lightly, but she just continued. "She died in a car accident. A ghost with amnesia. Unbelievable is the right word, Wooyoung."

"Woah. She sounds familiar though..." Wooyoung looked towards Hongjoong who shook his head. Seohyun noticed but didn't comment on it.

"So you're waiting for her to remember so she can move on?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yeah. She's been sticking with me for months now, and I got used to her."

"Ah... that's understandable," Hongjoong looked at his wristwatch, "Anyways, we should go home now. it's late."

"I thought we were playing truth or dare. This turned into a horror show. How will I sleep at night!" Mingi wailed dramatically, making them laugh. Wooyoung called him 'scaredy cat' and San said, "Like you're one to say."

Seohyun smiled at Jiwoo. This had been an unexpected night, and she had never expected them to believe her and not make fun of her. She looked at the boys, bickering, and smiled at them.

She felt comfortable.

-----------------

The next few days at school had been... annoying, to put it simply.

The boys were very excited at the new discovery about their friend they had made. They simply couldn't contain themselves- save for San, and Seohyun found her patience wearing off day by day.

It wasn't that she was ungrateful for how things had turned out. She simply hadn't expected this sort of a behaviour. Secondly, she did not know how to deal with 7 excited boys who couldn't stop asking her the most stupid of questions.

She had to admit some of the questions did make sense. Like Yeosang asking if a ghost's touch and human's touch was any different. Seohyun shook her head as she thought of how the question had shook her.

"What do you mean?" Seohyun asked.

"Do you feel different when a ghost touches you? Like, Jiwoo. Does her touch feel different than a regular human's?"

Seohyun inhaled sharply as she was reminded of the time she had spent in her music room, laughing, with him, holding his hand, touching-

"I'm sorry, was it a wrong question?" Yeosang finally asked and Seohyun realized she had been staring at him too long.

"Uh, no. I'm sorry I zoned out. I suppose it is- it is a bit different. I don't know how to explain it. It's not... warm."

Seohyun shook her head as she waved off the memory. Another memory made its way....

"This friend of yours, Jiwoo," Hongjoong asked, "is she here right now?"

"She may not find the idea of dying twice appealing," Seohyun muttered.

"What?" Hongjoong furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Now why would a ghost attend school? Surely she doesn't wish to die of boredom. AGAIN."

Hongjoong laughed. "So she's not here? Do you know her full name?"

"Ahn Jiwoo, I think," Seohyun replied. She noticed Hongjoong's eyes gleam as his mind worked.

"How old do you think she is? And can you describe how she looks like?"

"Playing detective, are you?" Seohyun raised her brow.

"Just answer. I may have something."

"Well, she looks our age, maybe a year older, she has an average face, honestly I haven't noticed much. She does have red hair."

Hongjoong nodded slowly, and Seohyun asked when he was going to let her in.

"I'll just check something. If it's true, I'll tell you."

Seohyun shook her head again. She should really be focusing on class. But her mind went back to think of the stupid questions. Yunho had asked if 'ghosts could eat' and when she had replied no, he said he was just wondering if they did eat, did they excrete as well. And if so, was the ghost realm full of-

Shit, she thought as she heard Yunho giggling. "You keep shaking your head. What's wrong?"

"Believe it or not, I was actually thinking about you," Seohyun admitted.

"Oh?" Yunho turned a bit towards her, smirking. "And what scandalous thoughts made you shake your head so much?"

"How in the world could your brain wonder if the ghost realm was full of ghost shit?" Seohyun almost shouted, but clearly she hadn't been quite as well. She earned a warning glance from her teacher and sunk in her chair as Yunho shook with silent laughter.

After the class was over, Hongjoong made his way to Seohyun.

"Is Jiwoo here?" He asked.

"Again, no. Why are you so interested in her?" Seohyun folded her arms and Hongjoong snatched Seonghwa's seat from his spot, sitting near her and placing a book on her desk.

"This is last year's yearbook. We have some photos from an event, and I want you to tell me if you spot Jiwoo."

Seohyun raised her eyebrows. Jiwoo- she could have been a student here?

She supposed it was possible. San turned too, muttering how he can recognize her too, and they flipped the pages, checking each one carefully until finally San pointed at a person and looked at Seohyun, who had paled.

"That's... Jiwoo. How did you know, Hongjoong?"

"I guessed when you told me her name. San told me how she had died of an accident and had amnesia, and I could remember hearing something about a senior here who had died in a car crash. So I put 2 and 2 together and here we are."

"But, this doesn't help much, right? We only know that she was a student here. What's this got to do with how she died, and why she is still here?"

"There were rumours circulating her death," Hongjoong sat back, "Her father was a prisoner falsely accused of some crimes, and she was trying to get justice. I talked to some of my senior friends, who had been her classmates, and they told me that she had started receiving some threats."

"And they must have given all this information to the police too?"

"Yes," Hongjoong nodded, "Now you know her identity. You can talk to her friends, go to her home, and finally help her move on."

San felt his heart sink as he looked at Seohyun. They both were thinking the same thing. Seohyun had grown very attached to her and she did not want to do this. She gulped, and nodded slowly.

"Of course. I guess I should thank you..." As the words left Seohyun's mouth, Hongjoong heard something bitter in her tone.

"Did I do something wrong?" Hongjoong asked, and Seohyun didn't reply, only shook her head no, and San shushed Hongjoong, mouthing that he'd explain later. Seohyun got up abruptly, her bag falling off from the chair. But she didn't hear it. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything.

"I need some air," she muttered and rushed out of the classroom, leaving the boys staring.

"Shit," San clicked his tongue, "You did the right thing, Hongjoong, but you have to understand. Jiwoo is her friend. A sister to her. If she moves on... I should go after her."

"Are you sure I did the right thing?" Hongjoong asked him as he gave him space to move. San nodded and went after Seohyun.

"It looks like there's more to the story than she lets on," Yeosang commented. Hongjoong only looked at the door. It did seem like it.

San ran around the 1st floor where their class was, then went downstairs, hoping she was somewhere here. After checking the empty rooms, he went outside, towards the lawn, and found a figure sitting near a tree, staring in the space. He narrowed his eyes, then spotted the cat wandering around her, and his shoulders sank in relief.

He wasn't sure if he was the right person to be there. Surely Seonghwa could comfort her better. Or Yunho. But he was the only one other than Seohyun who would miss Jiwoo. He could relate to her, somewhat. So he decided to sit down beside her.

As he did so, he realized she was shaking. San looked at her worried. "Seohyun? Are you alright?"

Seohyun couldn't breathe. She was having some sort of an attack, like the ones she had about two years ago. She heard San alright, but she was afraid if she spoke, she'd cry.

"Here, have some water," San uncapped the bottle and closed her hand around it, and she managed a sip then handed it back to San.

"This is about Jiwoo, right? She's your friend, and you don't want to let go of her. I understand, Seohyun."

Seohyun sighed, fisting her hands. It wasn't just about her. It was the flood of memories that had come crashing without a warning when she thought of Jiwoo disappearing.

San put his hand on hers, caressing it, hoping it would give her some sort of comfort. He looked at her. All her walls, her strong walls she put around her were breaking down. Her lips were parted and wobbling. She looked like she might cry any second.

"You want to talk about it?" he whispered, and she sighed, nodding, taking deep breaths. She wouldn't cry. Not right now.

"You know it. I have grown attached to Jiwoo. Hell, she practically lives with me. I shouldn't have allowed this in the first place. I knew she was going to move on someday, yet I grew emotionally attached to her. I'm so weak."

"You're strong because you helped her too. She had no memories. How do you think she would have felt if not for you? She couldn't even go to her family or friends. You became that for her."

"I know," Seohyun bit her lip. "It's not just that. It's... I- I had someone. Like her. He and I... We were close. And one day, he was gone-" She bit her lip again, taking a deep breath.

"It's okay. You had no one then, right? You have us now. You have more friends than you could have ever thought of. You're so brave, Seohyun," San said, putting an arm around her shoulder, rubbing her back as he smiled. "You're one of the strongest people I know. We're both going to miss Jiwoo, but we have to help her move on. You don't want her to stay here too long now, do you?

Seohyun shook her head. San smiled again as she looked at him, making her smile a bit too. "There. We'll send her off with a celebration, okay? No more sadness. Okay?"

"Okay," Seohyun smiled. She could do that.

"Let's get back to class," San said, getting up first then helping her up. She dusted off her clothes and they walked in comfortable silence back, though San had to admit he felt weird. His heart... wasn't acting right.

Hongjoong casted a cautious glance at Seohyun as she entered, but she passed a little smile as she settled. Yeosang looked curiously at her, and she made a face.

"Is something bothering you?" Yeosang finally asked. He watched as Seohyun sighed. Sometimes it felt to him like she was carrying the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Like she would bend under the pressure.

But she was strong too. She passed a little smile and said, "Yes. I'll talk about it later."

Yeosang just nodded, watching her curiously as she stared at her notebook. And then she sat back in her seat, staring at San.

---------------

"You're telling me that I was a student here? That this is a big, big 'coincidence' that you had to transfer, of all the schools in the city, right here?"

"For the hundredth time, Jiwoo, yes. I know you think I transferred here on purpose, that I somehow found about your life and didn't tell you, but believe me, this is a big, big coincidence." Seohyun replied, looking at San for help.

San shrugged, saying, "The way you're always hanging around Seohyun, when do you think she even had the time to plot this?"

Seohyun clapped her hand, smiling approvingly at San. "See? I told you he isn't that dumb. That is a great point, San." She watched as San shook his head, the faintest trace of smile on his lips.

The three of them- with the cat, of course, had this meeting in the same park that Seohyun and San had once teleported in. It had took a few days for Seohyun to finally settle with the fact that yes, Jiwoo was going to move on. But it won't be like before.

Seohyun found herself thinking of that time. The piano. His slender fingers gracefully playing music. His hands guiding hers across the keys. His contagious laugh. His deep eyes, covered by dark tendrils of hair-

"Earth to Seohyun?" Jiwoo was clapping in front of Seohyun now and she blinked. She cast a quick glance at San, who was watching her more confused than curious.

"Yeah. I'm back. What are you planning?"

"I suggested we show her the photo. She might recognize some people from the photo." San said.

"Also, I walked around the school building a few times, and it did feel familiar. I thought it was just because it was a school and schools are, you know, pretty much built the same. But I would have the strongest of headaches when I walked there," Jiwoo admitted.

"A ghost having headaches? Here's something to tell Yunho," Seohyun thought out aloud, "Though one might think that death would relieve you of all worldly headaches..."

"It's probably because of my amnesia. But yeah, San's right. I'll have a look at the photo. I'll come to school tomorrow."

----------

"Wow, that's me," Jiwoo gasped.

"Of course it's you," Seohyun muttered. Jiwoo ignored her and continued to stare at her picture. Seohyun cast a look at the boys. They were watching the book flip pages on its own, their mouths slightly open in surprise.

"She can hear us, right?" Wooyoung asked Seohyun, who wanted to make fun of Wooyoung but wasn't quite in the mood. She was more busy thinking if Jiwoo would indeed remember something.

"Come closer, Jongho. We're still in class, no one should see the book moving on its own," Mingi motioned with his hand.

"No one is looking unless you start acting weird," Yeosang commented.

"I'm having the worst headache right now. Is this normal?" Jiwoo asked.

"You're a ghost, unnie. Nothing's normal about you."

Jiwoo tsk-ed at her and then looked at Hongjoong. "He should know something about where exactly I died. If it was an accident, I might be able to remember something."

"Not sure if that would work," Seohyun's mood was very gloomy. San shook his head at her, and she sighed before asking Hongjoong if he knew something about where she had died.

Hongjoong, to Seohyun's dismay, said he'd find out in a minute. It looked like he texted one of his friends, and while they were waiting for an answer, San told the boys what was happening just so they would stop asking after each second.

Seohyun caught Hongjoong glancing at her, as if trying to convey a message. Seohyun understood and casually checked her phone, indeed finding a text from Hongjoong, which read:

There's a possibility that her death might not have been an accident

Seohyun frowned. Was she murdered? Or did she commit suicide? She felt as if it would hurt Jiwoo no matter the answer.

What do you mean?

Hongjoong replied:

I'll tell you later.

With that, Hongjoong told Seohyun out loud that his friend would have to ask around for the address, and that settled it. Jiwoo announced that she was gonna roam around the school again, and maybe that would make her remember something too. She asked San to remind Hongjoong to find out her home address too. That would certainly spark a bulb, if nothing else.

As soon as Jiwoo walked out of their classroom, Hongjoong brought everyone closer. "My friend gave me the address. It's near a restaurant here."

"Why didn't you tell Jiwoo?" San asked.

"When Jiwoo passed away, her friends were told that it was an accident. But according to my sources, they say she was out with some of her friends. They had somehow gotten in an argument, causing her to flee and accidentally crash with a car."

"So it is an accident, right?" Seonghwa asked.

"That's the thing. Some people say that one of them pushed her in front of the traffic, and that they are all covering it up. We have got to find out what happened. Before we tell Jiwoo."

Seohyun pursed her lips. This is not how she thought it would have turned out. Sure, most of the ghosts she dealt with had usually been murdered. But that didn't make hearing any of this easier.

"Alright, we will find out. We need to distract Jiwoo. San, you'll help me out, right?"

"Of course," San said, sitting straighter. Seohyun laid out their plan; they were gonna divide into two. San, Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho would lead Jiwoo to a false address, somewhere far from where the rest of them were going to go and actually investigate what really happened. If she had died in a car crash, however that happened, the people around would remember and would be able to recall the incident.

After school, they told Jiwoo that she would go with San to check if that was the right place, since Hongjoong's source could be 'unreliable'. Meanwhile the rest of them were going to find out her home address by asking around. Jiwoo didn't suspect them thankfully, and gladly went along with them.

"I have the home address too," Hongjoong said, "It's on the way to the restaurant. We should pass by there too."

"Yeah," Seohyun muttered. "Do you think I should talk to her family too?"

"I think you should, but after we visit the restaurant. That would certainly give us more information. because all you have now is nothing about the real Jiwoo."

"Point." Seohyun thought it was kind of ironic. She knew nothing about how Jiwoo would have been when alive. The thought of it made her heart twist with pain.

As they walked to the site, Seohyun was so lost in thought that she didn't see the rest of them exchange nervous glances. They all realized that Jiwoo had been her only friend for a good while. And they could definitely see how difficult it was for Seohyun to let her go.

"Can I ask you something?" Seonghwa finally said.

"Whenever someone asks me if they can ask me something, it's usually going to be something about my personal life. Go ahead, shoot."

Seonghwa shook his head. "How many ghosts friends did you have to let go of?"

Seohyun stopped in her tracks. It took her a second before she started walking again. "That is a very good question, Seonghwa."

Mingi and Yunho exchanged looks. They knew she always made remarks like these when trying to avoid something. "Jiwoo has been your friend for a few months. It must be hard for you."

"It is, actually," Seohyun admitted. "And most of my friends, sadly, have been ghosts. They're a better company. I sharpen my dark humor on them. I make a lot of dead jokes, if you haven't noticed that already."

"I did," Mingi raised his hand, smiling sheepishly. "Knowing you can actually see ghosts makes them more funnier."

"I know," Seohyun smiled back.

They finally reached the restaurant. It was a traditional one, with tables set outside as well as inside. Potted plants made for most of the décor, a stark contrast to the mauve and white theme, and the scent of spices filled the air.

Seohyun's eyes traced what could have been a possible path; Jiwoo walking out of the door, a car speeding forward-

"How do you suppose we're gonna find some information? We can't just go and ask them to show us the CCTV footage or something," Yunho said, looking pointedly at the camera.

"We won't have to," Hongjoong said, "We just have to make up a good story. Come on, we're eating something from here."

"Really, Hongjoong? Do you think we have the time?" Seohyun asked.

"Trust me. Come on," Hongjoong said, not waiting for them and walking inside. They seated themselves in the corner, and a waiter came to take their order. After ordering some barbeque, Hongjoong told them that he was going to ask for water while they would be in the middle of eating, and they would start talking about the incident. When the waiter comes, he would hear them talk about it, and provide his comments on the topic without asking.

"If I was the waiter, I'd kick you out," Seohyun said, sitting back and folding her arms, making the rest of them snicker.

"This works every time," Hongjoong said, his eyes glinting with challenge, as he mirrored Seohyun's pose.

"And what if he doesn't talk?" Seohyun asked.

"In that case, I have a backup plan. I don't come unprepared." Hongjoong said, and Seohyun rolled her eyes, looking at Yunho who was sitting beside her.

"Is he always this confident about himself?" She asked.

"When he's sure, yes," Yunho nodded.

"Don't tell me he's a secret investigator or detective or something," Seohyun muttered.

"I could make some similar assumptions about you," Hongjoong muttered back.

"Shut up, blueberry."

"You should, you old-"

"Just because I have grey hair doesn't mean I'm old-"

"Stop it, you both," Seonghwa laughed. Hongjoong pouted. "But do you dye your hair?"

"Yeah. Some years ago I went blonde. Now I prefer the more... dead tones, if you will," Seohyun said, and Mingi grinned. "How's the drum learning going, Mingi?"

"Ah," Mingi sighed, "I still make do with boxes and plates. I think I could do a good freestyle if I had an actual drum set."

"I used to air drum all the time. You should drum along to some songs you like. Really helps."

"I'll try that," he smiled.

"When do you think you're showing us your music room?" Hongjoong asked.

"Not anytime soon," Seohyun said. Before Hongjoong could ask something, they saw the waiter come with their food. Hongjoong muttered ''play along' and started speaking.

"I've been wanting to try this place for a while now. But I heard there was some sort of accident here, so I couldn't come." Hongjoong widened his eyes in signal and Yunho began, "Oh I've tried, and I'll tell you, it's really good."

The waiter set their food, and Seohyun watched Hongjoong and Yunho go on about the restaurant, slightly amused. As soon as the waiter went, Hongjoong frowned at them.

"The three of you could have said something."

"This seemed more natural," Seohyun said. "Two guys raving about food. Nothing suspicious about that."

After a few bites of the amazingly juicy barbeque beef, Mingi asked for water. Hongjoong cleared his throat.

"I heard a girl died somewhere around here. They're saying it could be murder. People these days!"

"I'll tell you, sir," the waiter, a middle aged man with wrinkles around his eyes began, surprising Seohyun, "it was an accident. A bunch of students. The usual crowd. Had an argument and the girl went out in a rush- nobody followed. A few seconds later, we heard a horrible sound and screams. The people out there witnessed it."

"But why would people say she was pushed?" Seonghwa asked.

"People make all sorts of stories, girl," the man said, shaking his head in disapproval. "I was inside. I know none of the friends went after her. The crowd outside was too absorbed with their food. Nobody saw anything until the crash happened."

"Ah.. I see. So I guess since this was an accident, the matter cleared up quickly? With the police and all?"

"Of course," the man said, "they saw the footage. Nobody pushed her. A pity that people had to spread rumors like that. Didn't help us. Nobody came here for days."

"I'm sorry that happened," Yunho said, and Seohyun felt that he actually meant it. "I hope more people are coming here now, for the food."

"Oh we're getting back now. Enjoy," the man smiled at them and went away. They all looked at each other.

"So it's an accident. But this doesn't make sense," Seohyun said, "if she died because of her own mistake, why is she still hanging around?"

"Unfinished business?" Mingi suggested.

"Usually happens when someone is killed, but yeah. She must have made it to the hospital and lost her memories during treatment. That must mean she's holding a grudge, or actually has something so important to do that despite her memories being lost, somehow she stuck to this world."

"That makes sense," Yunho said.

They finished the food lost in thoughts, and decided that is that was the case, it was wiser to not talk to her family. She could be holding a grudge against them too.

Though they now knew how Jiwoo had died, and they were one step closer to sorting this all out, Seohyun felt dread creeping upon her.

-------------

"I can't believe you sent me to the wrong address!" Jiwoo exclaimed.

"It wasn't on purpose! Hongjoong's friend confused you with someone else. It seems like he deals with this kind of stuff often," Seohyun was nodding her head along, as if that could convince Jiwoo. "And anyway, at least it wasn't all a waste. We're going to the place where you died, are you sure you're ready?"

"Born ready," Jiwoo said, pumping her fist in the air.

"Born ready but-"

"Don't, Seohyun, just don't" San cut her off, shaking his head. Jiwoo laughed. Seohyun pouted but stopped.

The three of them were going to the place where Jiwoo had her accident. It was only yesterday that Seohyun had come with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Mingi, and had falsely led Jiwoo to someplace else with the rest of the boys. Now, upon constant insistence of Jiwoo, the two of them decided they'd better take her.

It wasn't because Jiwoo threatened to summon a bunch of revengeful ghosts. Nope. It certainly hadn't been that.

"We're close now," San said, pointing ahead, "It's right across the road. You should start looking on your own now. Without distractions."

"Don't look at me, San," Seohyun muttered.

"You're right. You both can... wait for me here. I'll see if it rocks a memory," Jiwoo said, and went ahead, leaving the two of them watching her go.

"Do you think we should be there for her?" Seohyun finally asked, "The memories might be painful."

"I think she should just walk down memory lane. We'd only distract her. Going on her own is sure to bring back some memories."

"I still wonder what made her stay," Seohyun said, and San looked at her. It was one of those moments when she was not wearing a filter. San felt like he was intruding- it was rare to see her so... present. There.

"Have you dealt with many murder cases? Or suicide ones?" San finally asked.

"You think it's one of the two?" She asked.

"I think it could be something simple. I know if I died today, the only reason I'd hang here would be to say a final goodbye. That is, if I die suddenly."

"Believe it or not, those are the hardest," Seohyun turned towards San, "With other cases, it's usually finding justice, or personal satisfaction. But goodbyes are difficult. I wouldn't want that for anyone. It's harder for those who are living."

San narrowed his eyes at her for the briefest moment. It felt like sometimes she meant more with what she spoke. Like there was a backstory he did not know.

"It looks like you've had some experience with that," San asked cautiously. Seohyun bit her lip and he saw the slightest of tremble in her hand before she closed them in a fist. She was suddenly reminded of San's hand on hers comforting her.

"You're right, actually," Seohyun finally said, surprising San, "I'll tell you. I need to move on too."

"You don't have to," San assured, but she shook her head.

"His name was Joon Hyuk. It was two years ago. He and I used to go to the same music academy. We were only friends then, not close, until he passed away suddenly. He had a heart problem."

"I'm sorry to hear that," San said. He truly was. He couldn't imagine how he'd cope if one of his friends met the same fate.

"I was shook, but that wasn't the end of the story. He was hanging on because he wanted to say goodbye to his family. It took him a few days, and I helped him come to terms with his death. That's when we grew close. I used to be home alone, and we'd just sit in the music room and talk all night. He told me all about his life. I told him about mine. He taught me to play the piano." Seohyun shivered a bit but continued. "He said his goodbye, but he still didn't move on."

"Does that usually happen?" San asked.

"No. It was because he found something to stay for. Me."

The breeze made San shiver too as it settled in. His heart twisted with emotions he couldn't recognize. He wanted to comfort Seohyun somehow, but he stood frozen.

"Ironic, isn't it? He found something to live for when he had already died." Seohyun's lips quivered. She stared at the light bulb near her, hoping it would force back her incoming tears. This wasn't the time to cry. She looked at San and smiled, "I knew it was wrong. But I was so alone. I craved friendship. I craved love. And I got it for a while. It was short. He started to change. You remember the old man?"

San nodded. The man because of whom he could now see ghosts too.

"It's like the process sped up. He started to become bitter. It would come and go. When he was sane, I finally told him to move on before he became- that, before I had to force myself to send him away. And he did. Without a goodbye this time. I guess that was the only way he could manage it."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Seohyun. I-"

San wanted to say so much but they heard a scream which was unmistakably Jiwoo's, and with a look at each other, they rushed to the source of the sound. They found Jiwoo clutching at her head, down on the ground

Seohyun rushed to her, sitting down and hugging her, muttering comforting stuff that San couldn't make out. He just stood and provided cover, hoping no one would notice Seohyun hugging the air.

It took a few seconds for Jiwoo to calm down, and when she did, she sighed loudly, looking at the sun.

"It's coming back," she announced. "I remember how I died. My own fault. How dumb is that?" She laughed.

"Glad to see you're back in your spirits," San scoffed.

"You, boy, have been making unintentional puns," Jiwoo scoffed back, making Seohyun grin.

"So how much do you remember?"

"It's coming back. You guys should go your own way. I'll just wait for it to come back. I think I know where to go too. I remember my home. I think- I think I know why I'm here too."

Seohyun and San shared a look. "You wanna tell us?"

"I gotta check something first," Jiwoo said, getting up and helping Seohyun up too. "Off you go."

"Weirdo," Seohyun muttered and Jiwoo just waved at her before she started walking. Seohyun was resting her hands on her hips, tapping her jeans, watching her go with a frown.

"IF YOU MOVE ON WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE I'LL HUNT YOU EVEN IN THE AFTERLIFE OR WHEREVER IS IT THAT YOU GHOSTS GO!" Seohyun shouted at Jiwoo, startling San and the couple walking past.

"YOU BETTER HOLD A FREAKING FAREWELL PARTY THEN!" Jiwoo shouted back. Before Seohyun could retort, San took her by the arm and dragged her in the opposite direction, laughing and telling her she should stop before the whole neighbourhood comes out.

"I'll walk you home," San said. He wasn't sure if now was the time to leave Seohyun alone.

"If you insist," Seohyun said, and they walked in silence. San wanted to say something about how she had been wise to send Joon Hyuk off, something to comfort her, but he couldn't find the words. He was sure Seohyun would be too busy thinking about Jiwoo. He decided he'd walk in silence and let her sort her thoughts.

When they finally reached her home, Seohyun looked at San. "You wanna stop for some coffee? Maybe a snack?"

"Oh no, don't bother," San waved her off.

"I have chocolate chip cookies," Seohyun wiggled her eyebrows.

"That's not fair. Lead the way," he said, and Seohyun smiled in victory, letting him in.

Though the house looked plain from the outside, it wasn't such inside. It was well decorated, the brown and white reflecting the walls and the floor, and had an overall homey feel. Plus, it was quite spacious. No wonder she had a music room here.

San sat on the table in the kitchen, looking around while Seohyun made two cups of coffee. The refrigerator had fruit magnets with various lists sticking. Grocery, things to do. Doodles. San smiled. It really did look like Seohyun lived here. His eyes fell on her figure as she rocked back and forth, mixing the coffee. Her hair created quite a contrast with her navy blue shirt. The soft grey hair looked fluffy.

Seohyun turned around, catching San staring at her, and he shifted in his seat as Seohyun set the two cups and the cookies. San took one and bit into it.

"Oomph, that's delicious."

"Thank you. I made them."

"No way!" San was genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you liked baking."

"I like making food," Seohyun admitted, sipping the coffee.

"That sounds so mundane now," San laughed.

"What do you think I did at home? Made talismans?" Seohyun scoffed and San almost choked on his coffee.

"You surprise me everyday, Seohyun. We must look quite boring to you," San said.

"Well," Seohyun munched on the cookie, "You aren't boring. None of you are, actually. Why don't you tell me something I don't know about you then?"

"Well," San imitated Seohyun now, "I collect plushies. And I know taekwondo."

"That's... interesting. Taekwondo and plushies. Wow," Seohyun laughed. "Poor Shiber, I guess."

"HEY!" San frowned. "Your turn."

"I didn't realize we were taking turns?" Seohyun raised her brow but thought about it. "My favourite colour is blue."

"Mine's purple," San said. "I hate vegetables."

"Hard not to notice," Seohyun commented, biting into the cookie and thinking. "I want to be a musician."

"Cool. You can compose for us," San smiled and Seohyun smiled back mockingly.

A thought struck her. "Wanna see the music room?"

San raised his brows. "Can I?"

"If you want to?" Seohyun shrugged. "It's okay. That room needs air anyway."

"Alright then," San finished his coffee. Seohyun got up, her heart thumping. She was right. It was about time she opened that room for someone else. About time she let go too.

"Here we are," she said and fished out keys from her pocket (San thought she must carry them everywhere) and opened the room, turning on the light

It was gorgeous, San thought. A piano in the corner, a drum set in the other, couches as they entered, three different guitars hanging by the wall, a violin case resting on the table. The dim white lights made everything seem a bit eerie, but it smelled like roses, and indeed San noticed a scented candle on the table. It felt like a room full of memories.

"I do come in every now and then, but I don't really play anymore." Seohyun looked around.

"Can I see them?" San asked, and Seohyun nodded.

Seohyun watched as San examined the guitars then walked to the piano, running his fingers on the keys and making some sounds, then off to the drum set.

"I'd pay to see you play," he grinned.

"Oh you won't have to. I'll do that for free one day," Seohyun smiled.

"So you don't play anything anymore?"

"Just the violin sometimes. Or drums when I'm angry."

"Can I hear the violin?" San asked and Seohyun looked at him.

"Pretty please?" He made puppy eyes and Seohyun scoffed. "Now how do I reject that?"

Seohyun opened the violin case, saying something about how it's gonna be short. While she tested the strings and the bow, San sat on the piano stool nearby. Seohyun flipped her hair back and inhaled.

And then she played a tune so melodic, a tune so haunting that San wasn't sure if seconds had passed or minutes. He only saw her face, etched with the most emotions he'd seen on a single person. It was as if she was telling him a secret, baring her soul to him, and he just couldn't decipher it.

When she did stop, San felt short of breath. He just stared at her in awe and she came closer, already having put the violin back. "How was it?"

"That was... breathtakingly beautiful. You were amazing," San said and immediately felt like he should have said something more.

But she seemed to understand. "Thank you," she said. She was leaning against the piano. San got up and came closer.

"Thank you, Seohyun," he said, touching the tendrils of hair that fell on her shoulder, "For everything."

"I- I've done nothing," she almost whispered. San locked eyes with her, still playing with her hair, now his thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek.

Seohyun stared back at the dark orbs, his gaze so sharp that a part of her wanted to run away but the other part wanted to never look away. San blinked once, then slowly, painfully slowly brought his face closer and kissed her cheek lightly, leaving her out of breath.

Thank you for playing for me," San said, "I'll never forget it."

And then he drew back, and Seohyun came out of the trance.

"If you sugar coat it so much I'll never bring you here again," Seohyun was smiling.

"Nah. Now I'll wait for the day you're angry," San winked, pointing at the drums. "I should give pointers to Mingi."

"HEY!"

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mediocre-writerr · 4 years ago

Text

betty [quinn fabray]

quinn fabray x fem reader

summary: the last part of my quinn fabray mini series! this takes place in the pov of quinn and her side of the story! enjoy : )

*not my gif*

“Quinny?” my mom poked her head through the door, “You got to get ready for school.” she says softly.

I groaned as I shoved my head into a pillow. I didn’t want to go to school today or well ever for that matter.

And you’re probably thinking: Quinn what teenager actually wants to go to school?

i did...once. When I didn’t fuck up the best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting her at her locker, holding her hand down the hall, singing songs to her in glee club. All of it. But that’s all faded away like a moment in time.

“Not today.” I mumble.

“Quinn, honey, I let you miss so much school these past couple months. I need you to go just this once.” she whispers before closing the door.

I let out another groan as I pulled the covers off my body. Stumbling my way into the bathroom. As I look in the mirror the pit that was in my stomach continued growing.

I hated how I looked. I hated how I felt. I fucked up. It was all on me.

And it all started at junior prom.

“Love, dance with me!” Y/N yelled over the loud music that was playing, trying to pull me out of my seat at the table I was sitting at.

I smiled widely at her enthusiasm before raising my eyebrows at her. She knows I hate the crowds. Sure, I was popular and wanted the attention.

But there’s a difference between walking down the hall like a bad ass than being trapped in a crowd of thousands, feeling like you’re suffocating and sweating.

“This is my favorite song.” she pouted when I gave her the look.

I pulled the hand that she had in her hand closer to me. Giving it a sweet kiss, “Next dance, I promise.”

She pouts a little before running back off to the dance floor. I sat there drinking the spiked punch, letting the alcohol burn all the way down my throat and into my stomach. Leaving a warm sensation behind.

I watched Y/N’s every move. She wasn’t very far away from where I was planted. Jumping up and down, doing crazy dance moves, with Sam.

I love Sam with every bone in my body, but I was always jealous of the blonde boy. He was a nice guy, funny, good looking and super close to Y/N.

“Looks like your girlfriend is having more fun with Sam, than she is with you.” Santana says, leaning against the chair I was sitting on.

“I don’t like the crowds. She knows that. She’s just trying to enjoy her prom.” I mumble, trying to ignore her snide remarks.

Santana hums in response before taking a sip of her own punch, “Sure, let’s keep telling yourself that. And I’ll be the one saying ‘I told you so’ when she leaves you for him.”

That was it. That’s what started my insecurities.

Was I good enough for Y/N? Or will she find her own non-complicated love with Sam or Finn? Was Santana right?

After procrastinating for God knows how long, I finally made it to school.

“Quinn!” Mercedes yelled getting my attention away from locker.

I tried forcing on my best smile, “Hey what’s up?”

“You’re coming to Y/N’s party tonight right? Everyone’s gonna be there! I don’t want you to miss it.” Mercedes said.

I shook my head looking down at my shoes, “No. I wasn’t planning on going. I don’t think she would want me there anyway.” I mumble.

Mercedes looked at me sympathetically, “Well I want you to come. Dig yourself out of the depressing hole you’re in and come hang out with people who care about you. Think about it, okay?”

I nod before she goes running off to talk to Kurt. I open my locker and stare at the cardigan hanging off of one of the hooks. My eyes dart around my locker to see the pictures of the two of us hanging on the walls.

I miss her.

The bell rings and I weave my way through the somewhat crowded walls and into my anatomy class for homeroom. I take my seat next to Jacob Ben Israel and sigh softly.

“Alright class take your seats!” Mr. Barnson yells as he walks in the door, taking his bag off.

I look at the empty stool next to me. Y/N wasn’t in here today. She must’ve stayed home. I wish I could’ve, especially after what happened yesterday.

“Jacob, you’re going to be Ms. Fabray’s new lab partner.” he says and I watch as Jacob’s eyes lighten up.

The afro-hair kid coming to sit next to me, “Can I smell your hair?” he asks, disturbingly.

I shutter in disgust and raise my hand, “Yes Ms. Fabray?”

“What happened to Y/N?” I ask.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N switched homerooms this morning.” he says nonchalantly while looking back at his list for attendance.

Oh.

The day went on and on, dragging like a bad movie that wouldn’t end. Until finally it did.

I walked to school today. I’ve been walking to school the past couple months. It was a nice break to just clear my head and think about everything. Sometimes it hurt to do, but it was much needed.

I didn’t want to go straight home today. I didn’t want to go home and just lock myself in my room, curling up into a ball of nothingness. So I walked around more.

“Quinn? Do you need a ride?” I hear a voice ask.

I turn towards the voice to see Mike and Tina in his car, “No thanks. I think I’m just gonna walk.”

“Okay. Well we’ll see you tonight, right? We all miss hanging out with you.” he suggests.

“I don’t know.” I say looking anywhere, but them.

“You should.” Tina says before the light turns green and they drive off with a wave.

I continued walking until I found myself at the mall need Breadstix. I hate the mall.

I used to love going there with Santana and Brittany back during sophomore year of high school. When I was dating Finn and head Cheerio, but now it just reminds me of everything that went wrong.

When my insecurity was at its greatest peak.

“Hello beautiful!” I say as I answer Y/N’s phone call, walking through the mall.

“Hi love! I miss you so much.” she whispers and I smile softly.

I hear rustling coming from her side of the phone, another girl’s voice, “I miss you more.” I say softly, “Who are you with?”

“Oh I’m with my friend Lizzie. She’s also a intern here and we’re just having dinner! She’s really cool!” Y/N said excitedly.

The rest of the conversation was about her internship and the amazing stuff she was learning and the new people she was meeting. How much she was having.

I should have been happy for her, but all I could think about what was, how much her life is better without me? What a fun life she could have without me?

I left the mall that I was once walking in and nothing seemed good enough to buy. I was getting closer to my house as I was walking on the broken cobblestone. Just thinking about her.

How much I just want her to come back home and into my arms. How much I want her to let me know that I’m the only one she wants and that I am good enough for her.

Someone’s car came by slowing down next to me as they rolled their window down, pulling me out of my thoughts. Santana was sitting in the driver’s seat with her sunglasses on. Her usual high pony was down which revealed her curly brunette hair.

She looked like a figment of my worst intentions. Her lips stained with a dark red lipstick and the way she was eyeing me. It just sent shivers down my spine.

“Quinn, get in, let’s drive.”

And those four words was all it took. Well four words and a human full of loneliness.

A car honks shaking me from that terrible terrible memory. Leaving me with a mind and head full of thoughts.

Should I go to the party tonight? Will she want me there? Will I regret not going?

There’s two ways me going would play out.

1.) I would get there and she would open the door and slam it on my face. Then she would open it again just to tell me to go fuck myself.

I shutter at the thought of the most likely scenario. The sun was setting turning the sky into a cotton candy looking sky. What a beautiful sky for a stressful decision.

Santana laid next to me on the grassy field of my backyard. It was a cotton candy color as the orange hue blended with the dreamy blue.

I spent the week driving around with Santana. We would go exploring the small town in Lima or just drive around singing to random songs.

We laid there in silence just staring up at the sky. She took my hand in hers intertwining them together. And in that moment I didn’t care. I wanted to feel something, anything.

Anything besides this pit of loneliness.

She turned her head towards mine. And in a beat her lips were on mine. It was soft at first yet passionate. Then the next thing I knew, clothes were flying off, and hands were roaming.

2.) Y/N opens the door and sees me standing there. I apologize for everything, she leads me to our spot in the backyard. And kiss me in front of everyone.

Yeah like that would ever fucking happen.

I didn’t know what I was expecting when Y/N came back from Pennsylvania. After the many nights spent with Santana, I dropped her. Or well ghosted her I should say.

I didn’t answer her calls or her texts. I knew what I did was wrong and I decided to just end it before things could get any worse.

Was it fucked up?

Yes, but I did what I had to try and salvage what I had left in our relationship.

I thought I could get away with it too. Until the guilt started eating me alive. The pit in my stomach wasn’t loneliness, it was guilt.

And then Santana told Brittany. Brittany told Artie. Artie told Tina. Tina told Mike. Mike told Puck. Puck told Mercedes. Mercedes told Kurt. Kurt told Blaine. Blaine told Rachel. Rachel told Finn. Finn told Sam. Then finally, Rachel told Y/N since no one else had the heart to.

Y/N slammed my locker shut causing me to flinch back, “Tell me she’s lying.” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“Who’s lying love? What happened?” I say attempting to take her in my arms, but she took a step back.

“Tell me that you didn’t hook up with Santana while I was gone. And that it’s some weird vendetta against you.” she whispers staring at me.

I couldn’t lie to her anymore. It was killing me. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I just needed to tell her.

I just stared at her desperately trying to find an explanation. Desperately trying to apologize and explain everything to her, but no words came out.

“Y/N-”

“You did didn’t you?” Y/N asked barely in a whisper.

I nodded sadly and a sob escaped her lips.

“Y/N please let me-” I try to say and she shakes her head.

“No. We’re done Quinn!” she yells in between sobs running off.

I looked up and found myself in front of Y/N’s house.

I wasn’t trying to go here. I guess my feet just carried me here. The party was in full swing and through her window I could see her just sitting there, nursing a cup.

Her favorite song was playing and she wasn’t dancing. She was just sitting there, trying to smile, but was struggling too.

It hurt me, knowing that I’m the reason for her pain.

I hesitantly knocked on the door and the door flung open. Y/N was standing there and she was shocked, but her eyes softened. But it didn’t matter anymore because she covered it up with a harder shell.

She came out and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

“Happy birthday.” I whisper.

She mumbles, “Thanks.”

“Can we talk please?” I ask.

She was thinking about it. I could tell. Her eyes were furrowed and she was biting her lip. She looked in deep thought before nodding and leading me to the backyard garden.

There was a bench swing hanging from the trees. And we took a seat on there together.

This is the spot. Our spot.

We had our first kiss here. I asked her to be my girlfriend here. Everything happened right here.

“Y/N I’m sorry. And before you say anything I know. I know sorry means nothing and it has no excuse for what I did. But I am so deeply sorry. I don’t know much and I don’t have much to say because I wasn’t expecting to come tonight But I do know that I miss you and you were the best thing that has ever happened to me.” I whisper letting all of the tears spill.

She lets out a shaky sigh, “I know. I forgive you.”

I smile softly and I try to lean in to kiss her, but she immediately pulls back. Leaving me embarrassed and heartbroken.

“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean that I want to get back together. I know you know that what you did was wrong. And I trust you when you say that it wasn’t anything special. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I love you Quinn Fabray, but I just can’t do this right now.” she whispers back.

She begins to wipe away the tears from my cheeks. I took in a deep breath before embracing the feeling of her touch. Y/N closes her eyes and rests her forehead on top of mine.

I cup her cheeks into my hands. My thumb trying to memorize all of the crevasse, cheek bones, every little feature.

“I will always love you and maybe we’ll be together one day. Just not today.” she whispers pulling away and kissing my cheek softly, “Goodbye Quinn.”

#quinn fabray #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray imagines #quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray x fem reader

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thinking1bee · 4 years ago

Text

When It Reigns Part 9

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

“Record number 8-A237,” Lena began after she started the recording device. “My hypothesis was supported, with the subject showing many signs of becoming the alter ego. They are not aware of doing so. The subject has described the experience as a blackout, with no memory after they regain consciousness and limited memory before it happens. All events coincide with each other, between the blackouts and the attacks on the city, which provides some evidence that when the subject does lose consciousness, they become the rogue Kryptonian. As of now, I don’t know what the trigger is for transformation, though anger seems to be one of them. Subject has been kept in a medically induced coma but to proceed with further testing, I will need them awake. I’ll begin the waking process now.”

Lena ended the recording and fiddled with the IV that was inserted into you. She watched as you slowly gained consciousness, your face scrunching as you fought the fatigue that was weighing you down. When Lena saw that you were coming around, she stepped away from your side and exited the testing area, touching a switch on her tablet to activate the defense systems.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, and then you released a heavy sigh, sitting up and rubbing your face.

“Hey, Lena,” you croaked, your mouth incredibly dry. “What’s going on?”

She was apprehensive as she looked at you, and you looked at her in confusion. You noticed that she moved you away from the other hospital bed and put you into a room that was built like a bomb shelter. You also noticed that Lena was standing considerably far away. Slowly you got to your feet and approached her.

“Lena, why are you over-”

You yelped when you ran face first into something. It cut you off mid sentence and you were left standing there as you rubbed your nose.

“What…?”

You reached out and touch an invisible wall, a forcefield of some sort, and when you looked at Lena again, you stared at her with baffled shock.

“What are you doing?” you demanded. Lena squared her shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes.

“I’ve figured out what happens to you when you black out.”

You were getting pissed. Her use of imprisonment on you made you incensed and you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths. You would, at the very least, hear her out.

“What happens?”

“You become Reign.”

There was a moment of tense silence when you stared at her, and she stared right back at you. When Lena didn’t say anything, you frowned and gave her a dirty look.

“That’s not funny,” you said lowly.

“Think about it, Y/n. Every time you disappeared, she appeared and every time she disappeared, you appeared. It’s a truth that I need you to know.”

“Lena, this isn’t funny,” you said again, your voice getting louder. “I came to you for help and accusing me of being that homicidal alien maniac is the opposite of what I need.”

Lena sighed and scratched her eyebrow.

“I was there for you when Edge accused you of poisoning kids. Be there for me!”

Lena hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, where she would have to force you to see yourself in the mirror, but she was all out of options. If she wanted you to accept the truth quickly, then you would have to see it for yourself. There wasn’t another option, or at least one that wouldn’t take up so much time.

“Please forgive me, Y/n.” You just stared at her as she straightened her shoulders. Then it was like someone flipped a switch. You watched her as she turned cold, and she regarded you with a sneer.

“I’m surprised that you don’t see it, Y/n,” she spat at you. “It’s glaring at you, flashing at you like a neon sign and you refuse to accept the truth.”

“Because it isn’t real!” you countered.

“God, how naïve! You are a threat, Y/n! To all of National City, you are a menace. Don’t you realized what you’ve done? The people you’ve killed?”

You squeezed your eyes closed as you blocked out her words. No! She was wrong! Lena was lying to you. Why would she say such horrible things? Why was she treating you this way?

“You asked me for my help and here it is. You’ve hurt people, Y/n. You’ve killed innocent people! You even put Supergirl in a coma!”

The walls were closing in on you, suffocating you with a violent mixture of terror and anger. Lena’s words were hurting you. They were scaring you and they cut so deep. You would never hurt anyone, let alone kill them. How could she think that you were capable of that?

“I never should have turned to you for help!” you screamed at her. “I should have known better than to trust a Luthor!”

“People will trust in me before they trust in you,” she retorted calmly. “At least I’ve never killed anyone and enjoyed doing so. I’ve never harmed people close to me! I’m. Not. A. Monster!”

Her last few words were what did it. The anger, hate, and fear that was growing inside of you, kept swelling and swelling until it finally burst. You screamed in anguish, the cry loud as it echoed off the walls. You hated her! You hated Lena for what she was doing to you! You hated yourself for not knowing the truth! And you hated the possibility that what she was saying might be true! You hated everything! All you could do was scream and scream as your turbulent emotions consumed you. They blocked out the light. They blocked out your rational thinking, and soon there was no room to think about anything anymore.

***

Lena watched with sorrow as Reign took you over. You screamed and screamed as you shot out your heat vision erratically. Your fingers were curled into claws as you struck everything in sight. Her heart ached for you, and she hated that she put you through this, but you needed to see this with your own eyes. She knew that it wouldn’t be enough to just say that you were Reign. You had to witness it for yourself.

Lena clenched her jaw as she watched you destroy the room in a fit of rage. You crashed against the barrier as you tossed things around with ease, your cries and tears calling freely from your body.

“Video recording A-9356,” Lena whispered as she hit the record button.

***

“Y/n…?”

The voice was so far away. It was like a ghost against your eardrums, and you weren’t sure whether or not you’d actually heard it.

“Y/n?”

That one was much louder, and your eyelids snapped open immediately. You were on the ground with debris and crushed remains of the room surrounding you precariously. It was like a bomb went off in the room. Bleary eyed and confused, you sat up and wiped the drying tears on your cheeks.

“What happened?” you groaned. Lena was still there, standing with the tablet in her hands and with a pained expression on her face.

“I need to show you something.”

She touched a prompt and then a video flickered to life on the one computer monitor that you didn’t destroy. You watched a video of yourself doing things that shouldn’t be possible. Your mouth hung open in shock as you destroyed equipment with one punch or when your eyes glowed red with power. This was you, and you were raging. Anger and fury vibrated off of you and every time you roared on screen, shudders ripped from your body in spasms.

“Turn it off,” you whispered but Lena kept playing it.

You watched as heat vision shot from your eyes. You watched as you ripped whole machines apart….

You realized that you were Reign.

Lena had told you the truth. You were a monster. You were a killer, and as the video kept playing, you also realized that you were about to be sick.

“Please, Lena. Turn it off!” you begged as more tears came to your eyes. Lena switched the video off immediately and removed the barrier from your room. She was by your side, kneeling beside you as you broke down. “Oh god. All those people! I’ve killed people. I’ve…”

Your eyes grew wide as your hands started to shake. “I put Kara in a coma.”

You looked at Lena who could only stare back sadly.

“I did that. That was me! I put the love of my life in a coma! I almost killed her!”

“No, no, no!” Lena said vehemently as she interjected your downward spiral. “You are not Reign! Don’t punish yourself for things that she did.”

“Then how do you want to explain what’s been happening to me?!”

Lena couldn’t answer. How could she explain? She held you close as she stroked your cheek.

“There may not be an explanation just yet, but you came to me to fix it, okay? Let me fix it.”

Part 10

#supergirl fanfic #kara danvers x reader #reader insert #angst #injuries #blood #humor #bad dreams #memory loss #estranged parent #parent!kara #parent!reader

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softykooky · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary : One

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m a new writer and I’m just starting so please go easy on me :) Also, I edited this way too quickly so forgive me if there are any grammar mistakes. Please let me know what you think and if you would like more parts! Request anything you like!

Summary: Seoul's drug ring is sovereign of a small group fo 7 men, who have just gotten their hands on the ambassador's daughter.

Warnings: physical/emotional abuse, guns, violence, kidnapping...

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There was always something so surreal and soft about a cup of black coffee in a cafe that you have never been to, sitting across from a ghost in a booth that you have never sat in. You cradled a cup of lukewarm coffee between the palm of your hands, periodically sighing into the cold air of the room. The barista had given you a few side glances. A normal behavior though, you’ve been sitting here for a good couple hours now. There was nowhere else to go, and the cafe would give you a couple hours to think of a place to sleep for the night before inevitably walking around a park and finding a nice cozy bench. You looked outside the window.

Rain. At least it wasn’t hail. Better to go to bed drenched than in pain.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the barista approaching you, apprehensively and like she was there out of obligation.

“Is there anything you need at all? You want me to freshen up that coffee for you?” Her name tag read Kim.

Yes, there are a lot of things I need. No, you can’t help me with any of them.

“No, that’s alright. I’m so sorry, am I taking too long here?”, you began to pack up your bag full of nothing and made way to move out of the booth.

“No, no, I was just checking up. Take as much time as you need.” She left you alone after, walking away with no intent to wait for your answer. People always do that. You looked outside the window again, and the rain had worsened, now slamming against the glass so intensely you felt it vibrating against the table. It was so loud. Almost loud enough so that you couldn’t hear when gunshots erupted through the door of the cafe.

No. No. Not more of this.

Out of instinct and past reflex, you ducked down under the booth table, making yourself as small as you could. You didn’t dare to let out another breath. The other patrons of the cafe had scattered immediately, some making it out the door in a sonic sprint. Your eyes shot to the barista, who was standing there shaking uncontrollably with a strawberry smoothie nestled in her hands, eyes wide staring at the group of men who had just open fired.

“Ah boys. I was wondering when you would arrive. It’s rude to leave your guests waiting, you know.” The voice came from a man sitting in the corner of the room, still sipping on a cappuccino with his face tucked under a hat.

“Cut the shit, Mino. What happened to our shipment at the port in Gwangju?” His voice was sharp. Seething and filled with an intense hatred that could be heard from the tone alone. You would hate to be Mino right now. You looked around again, and the cafe had already been cleared out. The barista was nowhere in sight. What luck.

“I know what happened.” A different voice from the same group of men.

“You stopped it before it got on the boat. Tipped off Hyun’s crew that our goods were in transit and you, spineless as you are, gave up our protection and loyalty for a couple million that they offered you.” The man’s words seemed to silence the room. You held your breath, only watching the scene unfold before you.

The man named Mino coughed into his cup. He set it down, then idiotically tried to sprint out of the cafe and away from the grasps of a group of heavily armed men. Even you wanted to laugh. They cornered him, backs turned to where your booth was. This was your chance. You can run and they’ll never know you were here. The barista popped into your mind again. You couldn’t leave her alone.

You crawled out of your hiding space under the booth, making your way to the counter and trying to ignore the sound of Mino being beaten to a pulp that made a familiar anxiety bubble in your chest. You had to focus and not blow into a panic attack. Your advance was almost completely soundless, and the mystery men were far too preoccupied to notice you behind them. You peeked through to the counter, finding a shivering barista who still clutched a strawberry milkshake like her life depended on it. Her eyes held your gaze, tears streaming down her cheek. You mouthed for her to follow you as you turned around once again, preparing for the treacherous trek to the door.

“Mino, we could have been such good allies. Is that your price of betrayal? A million and a half?” A punch to the stomach. Uppercut to the jaw. “I would like to think we are more expensive than that, don’t you boys?” You winced, spiritually sending condolences to Mino. Sounds like he messed up real bad.

You held onto the barista’s hands behind you, slowly standing up and walking gingerly out the door with her in tow.

Okay Y/N you’re halfway there. Just a little bit more. Quietly, you’ve done this before.

The men turned around.

Oh fuck.

The only thing you could think of was flinging the barista in front of you and running full speed to the door, now busted in its frame with pieces of shattered glass on the ground. “Shit. Run, Kim! Go!” You yelled in your haste, still pushing her in front of you. If it hadn’t been for the hand that had suddenly encased itself around your upper arm, you would have made it too. You were pulled back into a hard chest, sighing in relief as Kim sprinted out to the other end of the street, not looking back once. Watching her, you wished you could have done the same for your sister. Now you were going to die. But it was okay because you saved someone from the same fate,

“What the fuck is wrong with you? The gunshots didn’t scare you away?” You turned to his face. If this were a normal day, you would’ve been in awe at how handsome this stranger was. Had it not been for his increasingly tight grip on your hand and a gun in the other. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. You thought you had already escaped this part of your life.

“What? Are you mute?” He squeezed your arm more, eyebrows furrowing as steam seemed to shoot out of his ears. You whimpered in pain, which seemed to soften his demeanor and loosen his grip.

“I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out in time.” Tears had involuntarily made their way down your cheeks. He sighed, turning his gaze to the other men in the room who had been tensely watching. Wow. Leave it to you to get yourself tangled in a shootout with the most beautiful criminals you had ever seen in your life.

“Whatever. Mino’s taken care of. Just take her with, she’s already heard everything. No loose ends.” The man in the middle said nonchalantly. Your face paled.

“No. No you can’t. Please, I promise I won’t say a thing. I’ll pretend it never happened.” Now it was your turn to hold onto the man, shaking in his grasp as you pleaded. You couldn’t go back to this violence. He stared at you in disinterest.

“Please, don’t take me.” You had begun to cry more intensely, feeling an impending doom over your head. It never matters what you want. What you need. The world just kept going on. The men exchanged knowing glances, restraining and dragging you to the black SUV that had been parked outside. You didn’t fight then. It was useless. This life will always drag you back.

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When you woke up from a sleep of exhaustion, you were still in the car. Both your hands and legs had been tied with scratchy rope that dug into your bleeding skin. You looked around at the men, who were all occupied with something and chatting with each other as if they hadn’t just shot up a cafe and beaten a man to an inch of his life. You coughed to clear your throat, but were too scared to say anything else. A man with wavy black hair looked your way, almost sneering at your presence.

“Princess is awake.” He spit out the words, making you confused. Were you so terrible even from such a short encounter? You looked down at your hands instead, staying silent. The car drove for god knows how long before it stopped in front of a house that you assumed costs more than your life. Before you could gawk anymore, the same man gripped onto your bruised forearm and dragged you out of the car. You bit your tongue at the pain, cooperating with everything.

They seemed to fling you around like you were a ragdoll. Next thing you knew, you were being shoved down ungracefully on a chair in a white room, staring at your own reflection in the mirror you faced. For making it through a gun ambush, you looked pretty okay. The door opened to a man, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hello Y/N.” You froze, wide eyes coming up to meet his gaze.

“How do you know my name?” Your voice shook as you spoke, fear seeping into every word. He held up an ID card that you had left in your bag.

“What a coincidence, huh? That when we took someone captive it would be the daughter of the Japanese ambassador.” The same anxiety from before bubbled up again, threatening to spill out of you.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled humorlessly, taking a seat across from you and tossing a file onto the table with your face plastered on the front.

“Says here you ran away a couple months ago right? I wonder why though...was Daddy not giving you enough weekly allowances? Didn’t get you the latest season of Saint Laurent that you wanted?” He spit the words at you as if they were poison, making you recoil back into your seat. You wouldn’t tell him the reason you ran away, but you wished it was because of something measly like Saint Laurent.

“Ah, silent treatment. Well, Ms. Y/N. I’m sure your father would reward us handsomely for the return of his beloved daughter, don’t you think?” His words made a chill shoot up your spine and tears welled in your eyes.

“No!” You screamed in his face, catching him off guard.

“Please….please don’t do that. Please don’t send me back. I’ll do anything. Anything but that.”

Your desperation seemed to confuse him further as his frown deepened and he looked at you curiously. He seemed to be deep in thought before his expression flattened once again, cold eyes staring back into your teary ones.

“Do you know how many people would kill to be in your privileged position? The money that your family has? Do you know how fortunate you are?” He judged you, tutting as he flipped open the file to read more. You shook your head, staring down at your tied hands and trying to soothe the sharp ache in your chest.

“Yeah….so fortunate.” You laughed, refusing to meet his gaze once again. If your old life had been considered fortunate, you wouldn’t even want to know what was considered unlucky. He stayed silent, only reading up on the details of your life more. 22 years old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Daughter of the Japanese ambassador and distinguished family. Your father is a business tycoon and your mother his arm candy. One sibling; a sister. Allergic to shellfish.

“Well, Ms. Y/N, if you are so desperate to not return to your cushy life with a silver spoon, you’ll stay here until we figure out what we should do with you.” He pulled you up from your seat and signaled you to follow him. The house you were in was almost as grand as your own, hallways spanning for what seemed to be miles. You guessed that the chandelier above you was Swarovski; you had the same one in your dining room. You felt annoyance gnawing at the back of your head. Who was he to judge you when your lifestyles were so aligned.

“You’ll be staying in here.” The man opened a door to a large room with a queen size bed in the middle. It looked like your room back home, and you wanted to throw up. Your expression didn’t go unnoticed as the man rolled his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies if the room is not up to her highnesses’ standards.” He shoved you roughly through the doorway, making you stumble over your own shaky feet. The man turned to leave but was stopped by your meek and quivering voice.

“W-What’s your name?” You muttered, ignoring the fear you could hear in your own words.

“Not that I owe it to you or anything,” he said coldly.

“It’s Namjoon.”

Namjoon. The name suited him. Suited his confident gait and his cold but calculating stare. You wanted to yell in his face. Tell him that you weren’t the spoiled brat princess he had made you out to be. Scream the reason why you ran away. But you couldn’t. After all your father and family have put you through, you knew how important his job was and what a high government figure he was. You couldn’t threaten that position. Your father was still your father once, and not the monster he has become.

You collapsed on the soft bed after washing up as best you could, with no intention of sleeping. Sleeping risks having a nightmare, and your state was already fragile as it was. You turned on the bedside lamp and tucked yourself into the goose-feathered blanket, finally processing everything that had happened today. It seemed to crash like a ton of bricks, and you let out the pain on a poor, ill-fated pillow that had the unfortunate fate of being near.

A knock sounded from the other side of the door and swung open immediately afterwards. You bolted up to a sitting position.

“Could you keep it down? I’m in the room next to you.” His words felt like a slap in the face, and you could feel another bout of tears surfacing but swallowed down to avoid being pummeled by your captor.

“Oh”, you hiccuped, “sorry.”

“What? Do the sheets not have high enough thread count? I’ll get someone on that”. His words were mocking and rude, and try as you did, you couldn’t stop the dry sob that forced its way out of your throat. His lips curled up into a smirk. You hated that they assumed everything about who you were. You hated being taken. You hated whoever this is that told you to be quiet.

“Taehyung! What are you doing in there?” A silver voice cut through the hallway and you halted your hysterical sobbing in anticipation and fear. Another man. One of the ones in the cafe. There had been seven of them, you weren’t sure. He looked at you and softened at your red and blotchy face.

“Did you make her cry, you brat?” He slapped Taehyung across the shoulder, making him roll his eyes.

“I told you to go easy and look at what you did.” He seemed to be lecturing the other man like a parent figure. It would’ve made you giggle had you not been sobbing.

“H-He didn’t make me cry. I was crying before...I was being t-too loud. I’m sorry.” Wiping away the tears that had clouded over helped you see the new man. Of course, dangerously handsome and aura dripping in elegance.

“Yeah, Jin-hyung, I was just trying to hack the cameras in the embassy but I couldn’t do it while it sounded like a funeral next door.” Taehyung huffed, rubbing the spot where he got hit. So this new guy’s name was Jin. You made a mental list in your head. So far you have figured out Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jin.

Jin approached you and gently wiped away the steady stream of tears on your face. You nearly gasped in surprise. Ever since the cafe, everyone has been so rough with you. Come to think of, it’s been so long since anyone has ever touched you with care and no intent to hurt. You flinched at the unfamiliarity, which made Jin frown before moving away.

“Come on Tae, let’s let Y/N get some sleep.” He ushered Taehyung towards the door and closed it gently. You were alone, again. With nothing but your thoughts.

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“Y/N, you’re fucking useless. We had you to make our family look better, and you can’t even serve that simple purpose.” Your father spit the words at you, accompanied with a stinging slap across the cheek. Some days were worse than others. At least he wasn’t hitting your sister.

“God, why the fuck did the universe give me this pathetic excuse of a fucking daughter?” He kicked you in the stomach.

“All I asked was to not go out and let the press see you.”

Punch to the jaw.

“And you can’t even do one fucking thing right.”

Another kick.

He always said the words eerily calm. That’s how you’d know he was angry. He would never yell, just said it simply and without waver as he beat you into the floor and your mother pretended not to hear from the other room.

“I should just get rid of you now. You’d make a good whore.” His fists rained down on you. By the end of it, you laid still and let him finish taking his anger out on you. It was never worth fighting back, anyway. He would just hit you twice as hard.

You woke up with a gasp, hands clutching onto the blanket that was held to your chest and gulping in air desperately. You had started crying in your sleep, leaving a wet stain on the pillow and your body felt sticky from sweat. This was why you avoided sleeping in the first place, but it seems you cried yourself exhausted last night and drifted away. A cough came from the open doorway, as a man peered in with a tray of food. His shocked eyes told you that he had been here before you woke up.

“Food.” He uttered. He walked closer to your bedside table and paused, taking in the scene before him. You were having a nightmare when he came in, and all he knew to do was stare at you until you woke up. He swiftly placed the tray onto the nightstand, and you flinched in response, which confused Jungkook even more. He shook it off, turning to make his way out the door. Before he could leave, though, you yelled out and asked for his name.

“It’s Jungkook.” His eyes avoided your’s.

“Jungkook...thank you for bringing that for me.” His hands froze on the doorknob. He never expected someone like you to have manners at all, much less for the same group of people that kidnapped you off the streets. Jungkook left with no more words exchanged.

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“Hyung...did you notice something weird about Y/N?” Jungkook fiddled with his fork as they all sat around a dining table eating breakfast. He had been feeling off all morning after Y/N, like something was gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Who? The girl we kidnapped?” Taehyung questioned, mouth full of scrambled eggs as he insisted on shoving more in. He looked at Jungkook confusedly.

“Yeah..she’s just jumpy. More than most. And when I went to give her food, she was having a nightmare and pleading for someone to stop.” Jungkook knew the signs. He knew what that looked like. He’s experienced it.

Jin looked up from his newspaper and sipped a cup of black coffee. “Come to think of it, yes actually. She flinched away from me yesterday and I barely moved.” Jin didn’t give it another thought, though, returning to his newspaper crossword puzzle.

“I dunno Kook, it’s probably nothing. Probably dreaming about someone stealing her Birkin.” The group chuckled at Yoongi’s jab lightheartedly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, Jungkook pushed down his suspicions. He was probably reading too much into things. Those are miniscule signs and he was in no way a profiler.

Taehyung chugged a glass of orange juice after his mouthful of eggs. “Besides, she just got snatched off the street by a bunch of strangers.” He looked at Jungkook, trying to assuage whatever he’s got his head roped up in.

The group spent the rest of the morning laughing over breakfast and briefing over the duties they were each responsible for. More like a group of old friends rather than business partners of an underground mafia that dominated the entire Seoul drug ring. You really had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, and what being the ambassador’s daughter means for you. Namjoon would have to decide by the end of the day what the course of action is regarding your situation. Giving you back to your father would put them in his favor. They would have an in to high-level government officials. However, keeping you would give them leverage to hold over the ambassador’s head. What Namjoon didn’t know, though, was why you were so insistant on not going back. He was going to make it his goal to find out.

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years ago

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continuation of this, because why not:

“Oh, this is fun,” Loki hadn’t realized just how irritating his voice could get until now, was this why the Soldier kept throwing knives at him?

“I am only dragging you along because our interests align for now, do not expect this to continue.” He snapped over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any potential attack even as the alarms continued to blare. He was lucky his counterpart was in such poor shape; had he even had a fraction of his usual power available, this entire enterprise would be much, much more difficult.

As it was, Loki was faintly impressed his counterpart had accomplished as much as he had when he was running on fumes. When he wasn’t sneering at the sloppiness of his plans, anyway. Magical compulsion or no, what kind of idiot went and paraded about proclaiming their intentions for subjugation?

“Come now. Do you honestly expect me to believe this isn’t to your advantage? Unleashing double the chaos.”

It was a pity breaking the magical compulsion had done nothing for his counterpart’s mental state. On a number of levels— he was a stone’s throw away from madness, all jagged pieces aimed outwards and it was uncomfortable to look at for too long for reasons Loki preferred not to dwell upon.

Well. At least he could use it to his advantage.

Victor was not a happy camper.

First had been the discovery that, as he’d suspected, that damn gun had landed him in another universe.

Second, said universe was quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Because his country didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for decades now: the Latverian civil war in this world had decimated its people in more ways than could be named, neighboring countries had snapped up just about every scrap of territory his men had fought and died for and goddamn HYDRA was using war orphans for their experiments.

...had he been a bit hasty when he’d taken out the first base he’d encountered? Sure. Sorting out the logistics for taking care of all the victims he’d encountered was a major pain in the neck, and this accelerated his plans for establishing himself in ways he hadn’t entirely expected. Klaue was as annoying as ever, and, if possible, even more of an arrogant bastard to deal with in this strange world.

Did Victor regret it? Absolutely not.

Especially when it resulted in his encountering his first ally in this hellscape.

...though this ‘involuntary twin’ thing would get old fast, he just knew it.

“Hello, Winter.” Victor greeted with a smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

The Winter Soldier could not believe that Justin’s stupid self-help books had been good for something, but here they were.

Him, and the poor bastard who shared his face and was now stuck in that incredibly awkward stage between ‘living weapon approximately three seconds from Murder’ and ‘going through deprogramming’, smack-dab in the middle of what had used to be a HYDRA stronghold but was now a bloodbath because somewhere in between fighting himself, and everyone else coming at them, the other Winter Soldier had started breaking through his programming.

He hadn’t realized just how much progress he’d made, until now.

“What do you want me to call you?” He asked again with a tired sigh.

“The Asset does not nee—”

“Oh, fuck no. Pick something else, you’re a human being, you have value.” ...goddamn it, he sounded just like Justin.

Ugh. Justin could never, ever know, he’d never let him live it down...okay, the worst part is that he would, not that the idiot with a death wish needed any encouraging when it came to this sort of thing.

The man’d had a knife to the neck, and still offered him food, offered him help. The Winter Soldier gave his counterpart a dubious glance, and fought back a shudder.

As much as he sympathized with the guy— he’d been there, literally— the idea gave him chills.

Though...he could almost see it, now. If he squinted, he could see the tiniest speck of self-determination that HYDRA had tried its best to crush into oblivion, the ghost of a hint of personality in the twitch of his right hand, the way his left hand curled.

“Right, okay.” He sighed. Again. He probably sounded like a goddamn teakettle, but fuck it, he was at the end of his rope here, dealing with people was Justin’s thing, he was much better at punching people. “If you’re anything like me, you’re going to have some serious migraines in the next few months, and no, aspirin doesn’t do shit. You have questions, means your personality’s coming back up which is good... oh, you’ll probably want to stick around for answers because I’m about as confused as you are.”

Because this is what happened the one (1) time he tried to be nice and check up on Justin’s friend group. He could’ve been chasing down that lead in Argentina, but no, he was stuck here instead.

Ugh.

Ivan was running on spite, caffeine, and not much else.

Living on the streets was a pain in the ass, exacerbated by the fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead and...buried? Cremated? He wasn’t entirely sure, none of the sources he’d found had been able to specify and to be completely honest, he hadn’t tried too hard to look.

Just seeing his own name in the articles had been disturbing enough, the realization that a version of him had apparently gone through with his suicidal plot was...something. Not great. His vodka stash back home was going to take a hit as soon as he got back.

As disturbing as reading his own death had been, it’d still been no match for what he’d been able to find on the man who’d given him another reason to live.

Because this world’s Justin Hammer was still alive and well, and locked up in an unspecified supermax for the foreseeable future, and...

An incompetent idiot with far more money than brains, apparently.

Which was so far from the man he knew it was hilarious, because Justin’s charisma had been enough to get a dictator of a sovereign nation wrapped around his finger without even trying, had the boogeyman of the intelligence world on speed-dial and an alien god as his bodyguard-slash-PA. He was untouchable on a number of levels, so when Ivan had first read that article?

He hadn’t believed it, at first.

Had been certain it was an imposter, and while he probably should’ve spent that time researching how to get back home, he’d instead ended up down a rabbit hole of what kind of man Justin Hammer was in this world.

Call it morbid curiosity, or whatever— but Ivan had to know.

It wasn’t like he was making much progress on his own, anyway, not when his resources were staggeringly limited.

And then.

A sleek car pulled up by the overpass where he’d been sleeping, and the window rolled down to reveal a face Ivan was inordinately glad to see.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Loki called, and Ivan didn’t even question why there were two of him. Or why his twin looked like a grad student during finals week.

“Mean Girls? Really?”

“He was correct in calling it a classic.” Loki replied with a haughty sniff as he pulled away from the curb. “Besides— from what I’ve seen, I also know more about this world’s culture than their Captain.”

His twin looked lost, as he stared between them both and whoops, that was probably a terrible first impression. “Is this one of your allies?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, even as Loki spoke.

“When he’s not blasting us all to other dimensions, certainly.”

“It was an accident!”

It was a good thing Loki had so much practice driving, because he would have gotten very nervous by the way their eyes met in the rearview mirror otherwise. “Oh, I know. I’ve told you—”

“There is no innovation without risk—” Ivan defended, only for Loki to snort.

“Have fun explaining that to Victor.”

Ivan froze for a moment, breath stilling in his throat. On a good day, Victor was the epitome of a type-A personality...

“He’s here too?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure where exactly, but how do you think we found you?”

“If you say magic—”

“Are all your allies mortals?” Loki’s twin asked with just the slightest hint of a sneer, and just like that all levity was gone and Ivan didn’t even need to meet Loki’s gaze to know his answer.

“If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. Right now.”

“Come now—”

“Ivan here blasted us all across space and time, without tearing open any paradoxes or destroying any timelines, entirely by accident. Victor? Is the ruler of a sovereign nation feared and respected throughout the realm. I do not know your approach to such things here, but any insult to my allies is an insult to me.”

Ivan...probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that Victor had not only amassed a following of rabidly loyal minions, but also managed to meet up with the Winter Soldier. Er... two Winter Soldiers.

Man, this was going to feature in his nightmares for months.

“Where’s Justin?” Was the very first thing Victor said upon seeing them, and he cringed as the rest traded looks because of course the one who’d introduced them to each other was the missing link now. Justin was hands-down everyone’s favorite, and if Ivan was stuck being the one to break it to them after having spent hours hacking just to get a name?

Man, this was not going to be pretty.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What.”

Ivan told them.

...suffice it is to say, nobody was happy to hear the answer.

“Okay then.” Victor said, face impassive save for the way his eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while since I did a prison break, anyway.”

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing #schrodinger's canon

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local-space-case · 4 years ago

Text

Bakugou Katsuki is Not A Loser

Word Count: IDK

Rated: T (mention of abuse, self-loathing, cursing)

AO3 Account: FerociousFerret (out here only posting first drafts on a whim why?)

When Bakugou sees the looming silhouette of Endeavor at the hospital outside of Todoroki’s room, he thinks he feels a million emotions at once.

Some he’s familiar with like fury, annoyance, and the protective fire he venomously denies exist are the ones off the top his head. But there’s also fear. An emotion he’s embarrassedly familiar with. A deep anxiety clawing it’s way out of his chest while still somehow keeping a tight grip on his lungs. It commands he stay rooted in the middle of the bleach white hallways that even so quiet he thinks they must be louder than he is. He wants to say something. He wants to yell, scream, curse, kick the fucker out the goddamn window, but he can’t.

Until the number piece of human shit takes a step closer to the door.

“OI! You can’t fuckin’ go in there!”

It comes out like the nasty snarl he was hoping for. The pro hero glances at him with a look disdain before reluctantly taking a step away from the door. Bakugou assumes he must not want to cause a scene. Doesn’t stop the stubborn shit from arguing with him though.

“He’s my son, I have a right to visit”. His tone was clipped, formal, placating, like he was delusional enough to think Bakugou was going to lose this fight.

Bakugou Katsuki was not a loser.

“Last time I checked, trash belongs outside not stinking up disinfected air.” He lets his gaze linger on a door across the hall. “Besides, I don’t listen to losers.”

Endeavor seems to puff up like a pissed off cat. God, so that’s where Strawberry Shortcake gets it from.

He looks like he wants to beat Bakugou into the ground and Bakugou lives by the philosophy of ‘If it can crawl, it can brawl.’, so he’s up for anything this fucker has to offer. But he doesn’t, instead he closes his eyes and inhales like he’s having an fucking asthma attack.

“You shouldn’t insult your elders.” Endeavor says after a beat. Bakugou huffs a laugh.

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” It’s an attack and based on the way the hero recoils, he knows it. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows it because it was broadcasted on live television. It was like a car crash, so gruesome but you just can’t tear your eyes away until you see that everyone is okay.

However, like a car crash, it’s abundantly clear that no one in the Todoroki family is okay. But, Bakugou didn’t find out when the crash happened. No, he knew the truth deep down when he saw the unsteady swerves of one of the drivers who had the audacity to essentially give him first place at the Sports Festival.

Bakugou thinks about that moment a lot. Usually at night when he can’t sleep because he feels like someone’s watching him, he wonders what Todoroki saw that snuffed out the fighting spirit he’d paraded around before their round.

He’s young, but he’s not naive. Not anymore. He knows, undoubtably, that during their fight Half ‘n Half didn’t see Bakugou’s drive to win, he saw his father’s flaming fists.

He feels his usual scowl paint itself onto his face, “How does it feel knowing your entire family is afraid of you?” The older man doesn’t say anything, deciding that floor is much more interesting than the conversation Bakugou wants to have. The conversation he needs to have.

“Number One Hero, hah?,” he mocks, “You know, that’s really fuckin’ funny. That’s a hoot ‘n holler. You could be a stand up comic.” he gives a pause waiting for a reaction. He doesn’t get on.

“Too bad they don’t like sacks shit lyin’ around.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question by the way, so tell me, how does it feel knowing your whole family is afraid of you? That you have no friends because you decided you didn’t need them, you only needed to be on top. Well,” a sharp bitter laugh echos through the hall, “congratulations.”

He stalks up to Endeavor and gets up in his personal bubble. He can see a blue eye trained on his own red ones. With a pointed grin, the blond knows he has the man’s attention now, so he keeps going.

“How does it feel knowing that you lost? And before you open that fuckin’ cavity ridden mouth of yours, you’re gonna listen and you’re gonna listen good.” Endeavor had tried to open his mouth to object because apparently the idea of losing something was getting to him. Bakugou could deal with this.

“How can you call yourself a hero after everything you’ve done? How do you do that? How do you sleep at night knowing that the so-called number one hero can save a civilian but fuckin’ torment his family?”

Endeavor is trying to ignore him. He can tell because his eyes are once again back to the floor. He won’t let him though.

“How does it feel knowing that, after all these years, even though you won, you lost.”

Bakugou is, and has always been competitive. He wants to be the best, he needs to be the best, because only the best people can be heros. He’d always adored All Might growing up, but not the same way Deku did.

When Deku saw All Might, he saw a beacon of hope, a peace bringer, an unstoppable force of nature. He saw a role model. A mountain of a man who was as strong as a tiger, yet gentle like a rabbit. Someone who uses their power for good instead of evil.

When Bakugou saw All Might, he saw a winner. A strong man who beat villains into the ground and obtained more money and praise than anyone else could ever hope for in a lifetime. He didn’t see a man, he saw a king who had kept a tight hold on his crown. He wanted to take it. So, yes he liked All Might for his position of power, but he respected Endeavor.

Endeavor may have been the number two hero, but Bakugou saw himself in him. He saw the fights on tv with the walls of fire, the punches, the yelling, he saw it all. Endeavor was not like All Might, he never backed away from a fight, never bothered to try and find a peaceful resolution, but he always won. He won with fiery fists and scowls and he didn’t smile for the press, he wasn’t fake.

Bakugou thought he felt hate for Deku, but now he knows better. This is hate. This feeling in his heart that’s screaming, hurting, burning.

This is hate.

This is hate because he can see his reflection in this monster draped in human skin.

He sees himself pushing Deku away because he thinks he’s superior, kicking, hitting, burning, screaming, he can see it all. He can see Deku become smaller and smaller and he remembers how happy it made him because Deku knew his place and that meant he won.

He sees Endeavor hitting his wife, screaming til he’s blue in the face at Todoroki, his siblings tear-streaked faces when they realize Touya is never coming home. He sees Todoroki’s determined expression flicker with fear before dropping to the ground like a rag doll. He sees Endeavor’s please smirk turn into a sour scowl because his son didn’t get first, he didn’t win. He sees Todoroki sitting in the main area while all their classmates pack up to go home for the holidays with raised hackles and paranoid glances at the slightest noise. He sees what once was Todoroki Touya on live tv telling the whole world his father’s sins and he wants to make him pay.

He sees the ambition, the anger, the low tolerance for anything that isn’t the best, the need to be the best at everything all the time but, Endeavor didn’t win, did he?

Endeavor became the number one hero because his rival fell, but he did not win. He was a martyr to the public, but a monster to his family. He was the monster under bed, the demons in their heads, the footsteps they should fear, and the man they should not love, but worship.

He took and took and took until his family had nothing left to give. He sleeps at night uncaring that his family don’t have a home they have a graveyard full of phantom memories of the lives they never got to live and the dreams they never got to chase. They get the ghosts in the mirror, a walking corpse for a body, and the perpetual state of mourning the love they’d never receive.

Then again, maybe Endeavor didn’t win or lose, because you can’t win a game you aren’t even playing. The moment he insulted, or raised a hand to his wife or children, he was disqualified.

Bakugou knows he’s no saint, but he’s not a loser. He’s worked hard to get his head outta his ass because he already loss. He lost his best friend and any dream filled nights that may have come to him. He learned.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he glances back at the man he’d looked up to and respected for many years. A man he hopes karma kills as slowly and subtly as he had with his family. He huffs.

“Yeah, I don’t like losers. Now, go the fuck home before I call security.”

He backs away but doesn’t leave the doorway as the sack of shit made the right choice and shuffled away. Bakugou makes a noise of satisfaction.

The explosive blond glances inside Todoroki’s room where the staff drugged him up on sedatives and silently wills him to get better. He’ll never say it out loud, but they were friends, and he did care.

(He also fears, that maybe, the news is right about how insanity runs in the family and that maybe he didn’t chase Endeavor off fast enough before Todoroki lost it completely like his mother and brother. Bakugou hopes that maybe he finally did something good.)

The vibrating of his phone jolts him from his thoughts and he reads the notification.

Shitty Hair: hey bakubro we wanted to know if ur still coming to movie night

Shitty Hair: no stress tho!!! a lots happened so we get it if u wanna skip

Another huff of laughter, this time less bitter, escapes from his lips.

He allows himself to smile and tells Kirishima he’s on his way and that they better not start without him. Yeah.

Bakugou Katsuki is a lot of things, but he’s not a loser.

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passable-talent · 4 years ago

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ya boi is back with a new niche character played by hayden christensen for yall to enjoy.

CW: blood, wounds, cursing, piercings, tattoos, guns, fighting, deaths of unnamed characters

AJ x gn!reader - Takers (2010). the stupid hat grew on me.

dedicated as always to @haydens-moles and @iscariot-rising for being my friends and for appreciating hayden as much as I do

The story of your life, as you loved to explain it, boiled down to a little math joke. Excited five, you called it, or it’s official terminology- five factorial. Written as “5!”, hence the awful pun.

“Factorials,” you’d say, “for those that don’t remember, are a multiplication of every number up to the one that’s being discussed. As such, five factorial is five, times four, times three, times two, times one.”

Your life, your excited five, was as follows: five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits.

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

In August, 2009, you got your ‘one’. Its a doozy. But we’re not there yet.

~~~

Five major scars.

December 25, 1983. It’s your first Christmas. Your parents think you’re just being a cranky infant, but something way more serious is going on- they find out the next day that you’ve got RSV, a respiratory virus that’s especially dangerous for infants. You spend the next three years periodically using a ventilator whenever the coughing acts up. You don’t remember much of it, other than the vaguely crayon-looking piece of the machine, but you can’t forget that it happened, due to the pretty white scar over the bridge of your nose. It’s not such a gnarly wound as it is a reminder- not of the ventilator that wore through your skin thanks to frequent use, but of the virus that almost took your life only a few months after it had begun.

July 28, 1993. You’re seven years old, staying at your grandmother’s house with your cousin, who’s six months older than you. You’re playing cops and robbers- he’s the cop. The forest streaks by as you run the length of the property, slightly faster than him, but he catches you and throws you down. You land on your back on a jagged rock, not only painfully impacting your spine but digging deeply into your muscles beside it. It was the first hospital visit you remember, and the dark, long scar halfway between your tailbone and your shoulders reminds you never to fall without controlling it.

January 15, 1998. You’re in sophomore year of high school, and not the most popular. You like to play by the rules, and some asshole junior decides that he doesn’t like the way you won’t let him cheat off of your trigonometry homework, and decides that a knife is the best way to settle the problem. Those homework answers weren’t worth the long white line over all four of the knuckles of your left hand, but it is a pretty little reminder that lowlifes do what they want. And law enforcement, or whatever your school called the ‘anti-bullying league’, does jack shit about it.

October 30, 2002. You’re almost done with your certification to become a cop- thank god. You couldn’t stand the people who were to become your graduate class. They were so ready to become cops just to bully people, just to get to weild an iron fist and hide their bloodlust behind the law. Not you- you’re here to do some real good. That’s what they don’t like about you. And that’s why Fred Young splits open your cheek when just he’s supposed to be practicing his sparring. It’s an ugly scar, needed six stitches, but it’s a reminder that even the cops aren’t always the good guys.

May 14, 2004. You’re a new cop, working under detective Wells. There’s a robbery of a jewelry store a few blocks from where you’re patrolling, and as you’re making your way to the scene, a man in a fedora runs smack into you, taking you both to the ground. Broken glass digs into your shoulder, but he apologizes, and his blue eyes look so genuine. He’s afraid. You’d not realize until a month later that he wasn’t a scared bystander, but in fact one of the thieves. The fifth of your scars matches your first meeting with AJ- who would, by the end of the summer, become one of the most important people in your life.

~~~

Four tattoos.

August 4, 1999- Left wrist, inside knob of the bone. The little symbol had represented something to you when you were sixteen, but it had long lost whatever meaning you’d given it. Now, it was just a pattern to pass your thumb over whenever you got restless.

February 16, 2002- The cap of the right shoulder. It was your bunk number, from when you were training to be a cop. Nothing extravagant, but it was supposed to represent the beginning of the rest of your life- it was supposed to represent your calling.

June 1, 2004- Left arm, the outside of the forearm. Bleeding from your first tattoo was a new one, the largest one on your body. It was geometrical and high contrast, black lines loosely following your veins up toward your elbow, as though that left hand was bringing darkness into your body. It did- you shot with your left hand.

July 17, 2004- Right collarbone. A single, circular monogram, made up of six letters.

T A K E R S.

~~~

Three piercings.

April 7, 1989. Your father took you to get your ears pierced, but insisted upon arrival that it was too expensive to get both done, so you only got your left. The assymetrical style would have to grow on you- at six years old, you hated it.

May 19, 2003. You couldn’t have piercings at the academy, they were unprofessional, they were dangerous. So the night of graduation, you went out and got a hole punched into your nostril- the pain made tears well up, but more than anything, it was the satisfaction of giving a pretty little ‘fuck you’ to your superiors, who you’d never see again.

July 18, 2006. AJ takes you to a fancy beauty salon for an eyebrow bar after hearing maybe once that you’d wanted another piercing. You knew you were in love with him- who else in your life had ever paid such close attention to you?

~~~

Two eyebrow slits.

June 23, 2004. You leave the police force. You tell Wells that it’s because you’re pissed you can’t find the guys that robbed the jewelry store, but that’s not even close to the truth. You’ve found them- hell, you got a good look at one of them on the very day of the robbery. But you’ve done the looking, and didn’t have the heart to bring them in. They had families. They donated ten percent of every heist to a charity. They did more for the community than the police you worked for, and they did it clean- they didn’t hurt anybody, if they didn’t have to. They did what you’d hoped to do, when you joined the force. What you’d never gotten to do. Eyebrow slits were considered extremely unprofessional, so the moment you were free of your two week notice, you split open your right eyebrow. It would give a good balance to the bar piercing you hoped to put through your left someday.

March 4, 2007. You’re cleaning up your slit when AJ walks into the room and stands behind you so that you can see him through the mirror. You keep your eyes on the trimmer you’re so delicately running over your skin, but when he opens up a little felt box with a pretty ring inside, you whirl around with such panic that you make the slit approximately half an inch wider than it should’ve been. Lilli helped you fill in the gap for the engagement photos, but you decided to keep a second slit on the other end of the unfortunate shave- a little reminder of the evening in which he proposed to you.

~~~

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

On August 27, 2009, you got your ‘one’.

You’d been out of the game for two years, choosing not to take a cut of the winnings. You’d advise, you’d plan, you’d set up, but you did not want to be on site when the heist went down. The boys had it taken care of, and you butted heads with Jesse far too often for anyone’s comfort.

You especially couldn’t work on this project, thanks to a little fucker named Ghost- he didn’t trust you, as a member of the Takers he’d never met, and you didn’t trust him, as a criminal you’d never grown to respect.

You knew that most of them didn’t trust Ghost either, but everything he brought forward checked out- AJ must’ve mumbled the plan thirty times in his sleep in the five days from its suggestion to its fruition. There were no holes. Knowing Gordon and John, they had some ‘insurance’ for Ghost, anyway. In case it went wrong.

Still, you stayed at the Hotel Roosevelt through it all. You were their sitter, keeping the hotel room warm and ready for their arrival. They arrived back one by one- and like usual, AJ got there first. He, Gordon, and John were usually the first to get out, but he always made it back to the room first, because that way he could get some time with you. That way, he could have a private reunion, fresh off of a job.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he closed the door, and you waited for him to turn his eyes to you before you gave him a smile. He threw down his bag onto one of the chairs, and it landed with a heavy thump, but you’d long grown used to the sound of the score. However much he pulled, good for him. You were just happy to slip your arms around his neck and feel him kiss the scar on your cheekbone before sliding his lips to yours.

He always kissed different right after a job- before the boys had all gotten back, before the total was counted. He had a confidence to his movement, but there was fear, insecurity, just a tinge. He wasn’t just a taker, he was a man, who had worries and risks just like every other man.

You were out of the game for a few reasons. They had it taken care of. You butted heads with Jesse. You didn’t trust Ghost. But you knew that you were AJ’s biggest fear- you knew that if you got hurt on a job, he’d never forgive himself.

So he kissed you, he held you close, he reminded himself that you were here, you were fine. His long fingers seems to take up half your back, and his hair was already in his face, as though you’d tugged it there yourself.

With just one more pass of your lips over his, you pulled away.

“How’d it go?” You asked with a soft voice, rolling your first finger through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Could’ve gone better,” he said with a chuckle, “but we got it done.” You heard a knock at the door, and Gordon was the next arrival- then John, then Jake, then Ghost. Jesse came last, and with him, a whole host of new problems.

A bullet splintered the door and caught AJ somewhere under the ribcage. Everyone hit the floor, diving behind couches, and you popped your head up long enough to see AJ launch over the kitchen island. The room shattered into gunfire and feathers from expensive pillows, glass shards littering the ground like raindrops. It all moved so fast, and the air exploded into noise. You could barely track AJ through it all, he was so far away, all the way across the room. And you wanted to keep your eye straight down the barrel of your gun.

“AJ!” Jesse called from beside you, hidden behind a brown leather couch, “You okay?” You looked around the side of it, and saw him ten feet from you, the longest ten feet of your life, behind the kitchen island. He was struggling, on his hands and knees.

“Get up,” you snarled, knowing he’d already taken a hit.

“Out the back!” John ordered from the doorway behind you, and you started to realize the moment, the dangerous, heavy moment. AJ was all the way across the room- he couldn’t cross it. Not with these mobsters holding ground.

“Let’s go!” Gordon shouted, and your eyes connected with AJ’s. He saw the same thing you did.

“Go,” he said, voice calm, and it cut through the chaos of the room, cut through every hardened lesson ever pounded into you, cut through every wall you’d ever built around you, around your heart. “I’m coming.”

AJ was a good liar. But he couldn’t lie to you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and you made a rash decision.

You’d always been good at gymnastics. You had strong control over the movement of your body, and had, ever since you’d learned from your cousin throwing you down onto that stone that split open your back. You could move and slink and roll and dive in ways that would keep you not only from falling, but even from being noticed.

Using the chaos as your cover, you did a tight diving roll across the room to him, slipping between shelters unscathed. This brought you just a bit closer to the mobsters, but further from the back door exit that Gordon had been trying to guide you toward. You’d chose AJ over your safety any day- the surprise and the fear in his eyes said that he wished you wouldn’t.

Making sure you had enough ammo, you considered your final move- this didn’t end until these mobsters did. There were five of them left, after all this commotion: four in the room, one in the hall. You couldn’t take all five, not with their guns being so much more than yours, but you could take out a few. You could shift attention, you could buy time.

And hopefully, you could stay breathing, too. That’d be nice.

“Stay down,” you hissed, leaving AJ behind the island where he’d be forgotten about, or assumed dead. Then, you rounded the corner and rolled to the feet of the closest mobster. As you came out of the roll you caught his legs in yours, wrenching them from under him and taking him to the ground with one of the first moves you’d learned in basic training. He hit the wall hard, and was unconscious by the time he landed- the same could not be said for his friends.

From your right, you could see Gordon, still firing, still hopeful for your and AJ’s escape. Your shoulders were above the couch, so you knew he saw as you turned your weapon to the second mobster before he could turn to you, and stopped his heart.

Your commotion had caught the attention of the other three who still remained. You whirled around and raised your gun to one of them, but they managed it first.

Gordon had to swallow back his horror as he saw a bullet enter the front of your side profile, and blood explode from the back. He took out the mobster who still had his attention on you- but your shoulders smacked to the ground outside of his view, and he closed the door.

Luckily, their aim was spotty. You now had a useless left arm, but you were still breathing. Not that you’d let the one remaining mobster notice that.

You and AJ played dead, only a few feet from each other, but the kitchen island becoming a thicker wall than any you’d ever been split by. As you stared blankly at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths hidden by the folds of your shirt, you hoped he didn’t think you were dead. You hoped he wasn’t bleeding out.

After what felt like agonizingly long minutes, the shooting finally stopped, and the door opened again. Gordon was the first to enter the room, and rounded the couch to you, grief in his eyes, expecting the worst.

But you could give him a smile.

“Surprise,” you groaned, and he lit up in relief, helping you sit up with your good arm.

“Look at you, playing dirty,” he said with a laugh, “I thought you were gone for sure.”

“AJ,” you heard Jake say from across the room, and finally AJ could sit up from where you’d forced him down. The two of you had both bled straight through your shirts, but there wasn’t any time for sweet reunions- everyone had to get out, and fast.

AJ left his car wherever it was. John gave the two of you a ride to the airstrip where Gordon was going to disappear for a while, and on the way you and AJ attempted to give each other first aid until the personnel on the plane could take care of it.

Eventually, you leaned against his left, and he against your right, your wounds still stinging and sticky with blood, but manageable, for as long as they needed to be.

The night didn’t get any easier, but that didn’t matter- you were home free, they’d managed the job, and Ghost was out of the picture, and neither of you were going to die.

And someday, when you felt brave enough to recount your near-death, near-loss, near-jailed experience, you’d say:

Five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits. And one gun shot wound.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #aj #aj takers #takers #takers 2010 #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #x reader #gn!reader #aj x reader #fics

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mishasminion360 · 4 years ago

Text

Here Comes the Boom

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: This is a sequel to my fic “This Feeling Has a Name”. That fic was supposed to be a one shot, but I received some very positive feedback inquiring about more, so I figured ‘what the heck!’ I hope you enjoy this installment as much as the first. Thank you for all your likes, love, and support. Also, stay tuned because I have a major Mandalorian fic in the works.

Since the night you ended your relationship (such as it was) you’d avoided Javier Peña like the plague. Not an easy thing to do considering you worked in the same building. Anytime the two of you made eye contact, you’d quickly duck out of the room or strike up a conversation with some poor, unsuspecting co-worker before Javi could corner you.

You’d gone as far as to request a transfer, but the powers that be were dragging their feet through the sea of paperwork. For now you’d just have to grin and bare it to the best of your ability.

You reassured yourself over and over again that putting some much needed distance between you and Peña was the wisest move; you repeated it like a mantra in your head. You practically meditated on the thought, like the fucking Buddha.

Your brain was firmly planted in reality, but your heart, God damn it, still needed a little more convincing. It was still nestled comfortably in Javier’s hands.

When you were certain he wasn’t looking, your eyes would lock onto him across the room. They would gaze. They would linger. And you would yearn. You’d walk past his empty desk and your fingers would unconsciously reach out to graze the smooth leather of his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The same jacket he’d once wrapped around your shoulders.

It was undeniable: you’d been bitten by the proverbial love bug and were sick as hell, and there was no cure. You worked in the same room as some of the most brilliant, tactful minds on the planet, so you knew there was no hiding your condition for long. And, of course, Steve Murphy was the first to figure it out.

“What the hell did Javi do now?” he asked you point blank, cornering you at the water cooler.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to feign ignorance and failing miserably.

“Well, he’s been more of a bastard than usual and I figured it had something to do with you. And if something did happen between you two, because it’s always the safe bet, I could only imagine that Javi fucked up royally. So, I ask again: what did he do?”

You gulped down your water, wishing it was something stronger, and tossed the cup.

“Why do you assume his bullshit has anything to do with me?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Murphy’s mouth.

“Because nothing gets him more worked up than you.”

You knew it was meant as a compliment, but you tried desperately not to see it that way.

“We’re hunting Pablo fucking Escobar, darlin’. One of the most dangerous criminal, dare I say masterminds, in all of Colombia, potentially the world. But not even this motherfucker has been able to get under Javi’s skin the way you have. And don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Of course Steve noticed. Because you were so damn obvious. You were ashamed and embarrassed of your unprofessionalism, but you couldn’t blame that on Javier Peña. Your feelings and the resulting behaviors of said feelings were your own.

“The relationship had run its course, Steve, so I ended it. That’s it. We’re adults, adults break up. If Javi is insisting on taking it like a child, that’s on him.”

You return to your desk and attempt to lose yourself in paperwork. You know Steve wants to say more; the silence that follows is pregnant with his unvoiced questions, thoughts and opinions. Fortunately for you he’s wise enough to keep them all to himself.

“Hang in there,” he mumbles, patting your shoulder in a brief gesture of support before striding off.

***

You finish drying your hands and you’re about to exit the ladies room when suddenly the door flies open and in storms Javier.

“Shit!” you exclaim, both startled and a bit disgusted at the lengths he would go to just to confront you.

“We need to talk,” he grumbles, standing between you and the door.

“We have nothing to talk about, Javier, and certainly not here of all places!”

Just then one of the receptionists attempts to enter the restroom, doing a double take when she notices Javier.

“Go find another bathroom,” he barks at the wide eyed young woman.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Peña?” she snaps.

“OUT!” he roars. She doesn’t need to be told twice.

For good measure he locks the door behind her, and the two of you are officially alone. Even in the enclosed space, you try to put as much distance between the two of you as physically possible.

Javier let’s out a frustrated breath as he runs a hand over his face and through his hair.

“I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I need you to listen to me. Just listen to me. Okay?”

Your heart is thudding in your ears but you attempt to play it cool by crossing your arms and leaning back against the sink.

“I’m listening.”

Javi took a deep breath then began again.

“You know I’m not the best at showing emotion-“

You cut him off with a laugh.

“You just screamed a poor woman out of this bathroom and you say you’re no good at showing emotion?”

You could see the anger boiling up inside him once again, but he closed his eyes, took a breath, tamped it down, and continued.

“I don’t typically get close to people, alright? I don’t usually do relationships, friendly or otherwise. What you and I have...”

You shot him a pointed look at the same instant he caught his mistake.

“Had ,” he corrected. “That’s usually the extent of my emotional attachment.”

You snickered a bit. “I sure as hell hope Steve is enjoying it while it lasts, then.”

“God dammit, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Now you want to get serious?”

That may have been a poor choice of words. Actually, goading him on while he was obviously upset may have been one big bad idea on your part, because in a flash Javier was crushing his body to yours and shackling your wrists in his hands. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his skin burning your own. Or maybe that was your own.

He took a second to recollect himself, but he didn’t release his grip on you. In that moment you didn’t mind.

“Just who the hell said I didn’t love you, huh?”

His entire body was like an angry storm: his pounding heart was thunder, and his words struck you like lightening. But his eyes, just like that of any other tempest, were calm. And as you gazed into them your fear was washed away, as if by rain.

“You did,” you whispered. “You told me, Javi, that love wasn’t your thing. You warned me when we first started seeing each other, and you just said it again now. Don’t you even hear yourself when you talk?”

He didn’t say anything, only swallowed painfully over the lump in his throat.

“I get it, Javier, okay? This is not my first time being with someone like you. I know there are people out there who just can’t stand the idea of love and relationships, and there’s nothing wrong with that. To each their own right?”

He seemed frozen so you took the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and lower his arms to his sides.

“That doesn’t make you a bad guy, Javier. You don’t have to apologize for being who you are. You don’t ever have to apologize for that.”

You looked away as angry, self conscious tears filled your eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Javier. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful. I’m sorry I didn’t take your warning to heart.”

Before you even realized what you were doing, you brought your hand gently to his face. This could, would, be the last time you ever touched him, and because he probably understood that all too well he reached up and placed his hand atop yours, pressing it harder against his cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell in love with you, Javi.”

You saw his eyes go painfully wide as you slipped from his hold and made your way around him, not sparing a single look back as you left the restroom. You didn’t see him punch the mirror, but you heard the glass shatter from the other side of the door.

Wiping angrily at your eyes, you hastily retrieved your jacket and purse from your desk and tapped Steve on the shoulder on your way out.

“Tell the boss I’m leaving early,” you said, and if Steve was going to protest you didn’t give him the chance. You were as good as gone.

***

The next day you called in sick. For one day, just one lousy fucking day, you wanted to be alone to drown your thoughts under a stack of paperwork a mile high. You told the boss not to call and bother you unless your transfer request had gone through.

But as luck would have it, you picked the wrong fucking day to stay home.

One second you were skimming page after page of Escobar’s dossier, the next the pages were fluttering in the air like confidential snowflakes, launched skyward by the force of the explosion that rocked your apartment and the shops below.

@mamacitapascal @obsessivelysearching

#pedro pascal #Javier Peña #narcos #fanfics

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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 3 years ago

Text

Storyline Study: Season 3

The Commander's storyline and actions in S3 are extremely erratic. I'm here to say ArenaNet did this on purpose for the Commander's storyline - which nicely gives lie to the myth that they ignored Trahearne.

The idea? ArenaNet did not ignore Trahearne's death... but all the other NPCs did (or seemed to).

The theory is that the story Anet was trying to tell with the Commander is that they was lonely. The theme of the whole game is unity and working together, and we just had a general all-around fail with that in Maguuma when all the Pact was hostile to sylvari, and so we failed at the Big Message of the game, and that's why we 'lost' (killed Mordremoth, but lost Trahearne). The idea is that this has lasting repercussions, because the Commander was traumatized by Trahearne's death - not just by his death, but by the fact that you were the one to kill him.

And so, you're traumatized, and that continues to have negative impacts on the storyline and the main point of the game for the rest of S3 (and also a significant portion of PoF, but that's a different story).

I think that, all throughout S3, the Commander is feeling lonely. First off, hardly anybody recognizes that Trahearne meant something to you, they're only (at best) concerned about the hole he left in Pact hierarchy. I don't blame General Almorra for this? She lost her warband the same way we lost Trahearne, but she doesn't know we had to kill him. I think, after a year of silence from the Commander, Almorra thought they had handled the grief of Trahearne's death (because she probably WOULD know we were close to him) and didn't want to intrude or anything. She was kind of doing her best, at first, to not explain what was going on internally with the Pact and the Pact's general feelings towards Trahearne, so I think she was trying to respect our feelings because she knows grief. (If at this point, Commander - especially a Vigil Commander - had, say, had a mental breakdown and explained to her what happened, she would be ten times more sympathetic and she might glue us to her side until she was sure we were alright.)

Enough about Almorra. Eir's also dead, Zojja's out of it, Logan decides to become Marshal (betrayal!) and he's also so out of it he's just doing paperwork, Rytlock is called away by Black Citadel superiors, Marjory ignores our pleas to think twice about Lazarus and disappears with him, Caithe got tied down guarding Aurene, Braham yells at us and leaves, Rox goes with Braham so he doesn't do anything too reckless, and it's just all not in control. The Commander literally has a line about this to Taimi: I can't make anyone listen to me, I'm doing bad at being a leader so please listen to me. (I forget if Taimi did or not.) We stare down Anise and help Canach work his way out of his debt to her, and invite him to Dragon's Watch, only for him to say "I've been under someone's yoke for too long" (CLEARLY referencing, not just Anise, but Mordremoth too) and then disappears. Oh, and then Marjory gets deathly wounded and Kasmeer vanishes.

This intense loneliness is all symbolized by the fact that we face down Balthazar, the God of War, and potentially an awake and active Primordus, by our own freaking self in a volcano. Taimi's there for technical support, but she's less of a combat buddy and more of a liability to protect (no offense, Taimi). Commander never faces down bad guys alone. They always has an army (or at least a dedicated group of powerful friends) behind them.

The Commander is so desperate for allies they take a magically binding death-oath to get into the Shining Blade. Exemplar Kerida is snarky and at first Commander doesn't like it, but they warm up soon enough. (Kinda like Canach. "did you singe your eyebrows off?" "eh, they needed a trim." Canach would DIE.) But also the Commander is tested by being promptly confronted with their worst fears and insecurities. But you're willing to do it if it means you'll have companions? And then it's HELPFUL, and all the little things that have been bugging you for the whole Season 3, about Rytlock and Caithe (and she mentions Trahearne) and Braham and Eir and all those things that make you feel like a failure as a leader - you deal with them, you put those demons to bed!

And then, we GO BACK TO ORR.

AND IT IS ALL GREEN AND ALIVE.

AND VERY HEARTBREAKING, THANK YOU. This is also, if memory serves, the same time Anet released the Knight of the Thorn side-story and the statue of Trahearne, and so you're thinking about this already and you're going aahhh this weird statue they don't understand him and also aaahhhhh Ridhais we are twin spirits and then you GO TO ORR.

And there you have a BUNCH of people who understood Trahearne and are working to preserve his legacy and also there is the ghost of King Reza!! And they ask for your help! And you can do your own little part to spread life by killing skelk scavengers or something, and so you help, and this kind of calms you and gives you a sort of communion with the land and the people around you who all understand Trahearne and his goals and his legacy, and this is massively understated in the game but I think it's very healing. You kill some Risen (with Caladbolg!), and so that's a kind of catharsis. You go through the reliquaries of the Six, you discover some things about Orr that Trahearne may or may not have known (I forget if there was maybe dialogue about how the whole place was sort of magically protected from intrusion), and if he did know it then you can know it too and it's a sort of I'm walking in your footsteps Trahearne moment, and if he DIDN'T know it then it's a sort of I won't let Orr die with you, I'll keep it and the memory of it alive and growing for you.

And then you go and punch Lazarus in the face with The Shining Blade and also Exemplar Kerida who is also Livia? And wasn't she a necromancer from GW1 and she stayed alive all this time with the - guess what - Scepter of Orr? (I think?) So we have a snarky, hundreds-of-years-old necromancers with a special Shining Blade (Caladbolg glows, right?) whom Anise defers to and who doesn't mind bossing YOU around like nobody's business. But you fight this Lazarus who was supposed to be dead but he preserved himself inside these aspect things, and Kerida/Livia is about to die and you're panicking like it's going to be Trahearne all over again? But then you DO it, you WIN!

Now, you're still awfully lonely and all your friends are still not around (except Taimi, bless her heart), and you faced the literal last of the mursaat with nothing except you and this snarky menace, but it's a start and and its an improvement and you've got hope again.

So really, the Season 3 storyline is massively about the Commander overcoming grief and guilt and shame regarding Trahearne, and I think Anet did it on purpose. Why did we go to Orr? NO IDEA. Tie-in to Kerida/Livia having the Scepter of Orr, and also for a bit of backstory on Balthazar getting Lyssa's mirror, and of course we do need an update on Orr SOMETIME, yeah, sure sure. Those too. But really I think it was healing for the Commander's poor traumatized brain, but Anet didn't want to say it because of all the haters.

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss To Build a Dream On

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Monster Boss x F!Worker Warnings: Blood mention, Violence, fluff, confusion of intention, gang boss, ladies go crazy for a sharp dressed man, cursing, sex, teleporting to avoid explaining

word Count: 7885

Tender isn’t a word anyone would use to describe the boss, but for her he can’t be anything but.

--------------------------------------

I roughly slam the door, grumbling to myself as I stomp towards the backrooms of the office. My fists stay firmly clenched at my sides as fire burns from within my chest. The bruises ache along my face, my cheek and eye throbbing with every beat of my heart. I shoulder check workers at I storm to my bunk at the end of the hall, not even bothering to deal with anyone's teasing today.

The door is in sight, the sweet relief of solitude isn’t enough to stifle the anger. Knowing I'm going in there to lick my wounds like some child or weakling. When I reach the peaceful silence of my own room I begin angrily wrestling off my clothes, tossing the lightly blood-splattered garments to the corner. Grabbing some clothes off the floor I march into the bathroom. Throwing on some baggy pants and a tank top, I look in the mirror.

For the first time this day, my anger steps aside. The sight of my swelling eye and split cheek is shocking. I've been hit before, it's not really new, but it's never been so startling. My cheek wound has bled enough to dribble down to my collar. The line of blood ends where my shirt was, no doubt the clothing is sporting a lovely red spot. I guess that's what happens when someone plays cheap with a jewelry covered punch. The rage boils once more till I spit in the sink.

I can't bring myself to look any longer. Rushing out into the main room I grumble once more. A tantrum in the making, I throw my fists around, I bare my teeth towards the floor, I kick at anything decorating the ground. Clothes get pushed around the room, thunking against the wall. A suitcase gets launched under the bed and a wall is hit for good measures.

As I seethe to myself I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I go stalk still, turning slowly to the poor soul who decided it would be a good time to check-in. A well dress man is inspecting a wrecked shirt, the same shirt I wore minutes before. He admires the bloodstain near the neckline, thumbing the spot with a lax face.

"Sir," I play my best pleasant voice," now is not a good time." it all comes out terse and strained but it's the best I can do. Boss hums, still looking at my shirt. It takes a few seconds before he bothers looking my way. His dark complexation almost shadows the flex of his brow when he catches sight of my beaten self. His quickly flexing jaw is just barely noticeable in the darkness of the corner.

"So it would seem," he answers smoothly. He tosses the shirt to the side without care, adjusting his hat before he steps further into the room. His intrusion is unwelcome, to say the least, and him stepping closer boils my blood even more.

"Sir," I growl," It's really not a good time." typical boss continues to ignore me, succeeding like he always does when we talk in making me grind my teeth to dust. He hums in answer again, walking till he is a few feet in front of me. His hands are clasped behind his back, his brow low as he regards me.

"I will ask this once," he starts," what happened?"

I sneer, immediately answering," Nothing, everything is fine." he responds with a tilt of his head, watching me with an almost amused look. We stare each other down, stubbornness helping me with this battle. The boss has a tendency in sticking his nose in other people's business. Which is fine for everyone else, a good trait to have a boss who takes care of his people, but it’s not fine for me. I don't want his constant attention, sticking around to rub my nose in it. He never has to say anything, his judging look is enough to knock me down a peg.

As I stew in my thoughts he reaches out and grabs my jaw. His fingers dig into my skin, demanding absolute cooperation. I know better than to move, stiffening as I fight the urge to jerk away from his scrutiny. He leans down close, looking over the cuts, tilting my head this way and that.

"Rings or knuckles," he asks casually.

My jaw pops," Rings."

He hums," Howley boys or street wolves?"

I scoff," pixie chicks." he nods, dropping my jaw in favor of using his phone. The device appears in a blink, acting like it was always there. He clicks away at the phone lazily for a short moment before poofing it away as quickly as it appeared. Without a word, he grabs my shoulder and walks me into the bathroom. Too curious, I let him guide me to sit on the toilet. I sit and watch him work near the sink, opening the medicine cabinet.

"What are you doing," I ask, tilting forward to get a better look. Before I can get a look around the mirror he shuts it.

"You have no bandages," he scoffs. The tone sounds scolding like I'm some child being talked down by a parent. I quickly catch on to what's happening, I don't much care for it.

I stand," no, get out. I'd like to be alone now to tend to my ego and I don't need you here to yell about how dumb I am." before I could walk around him towards the beds he grabs me once more and twists me back to the bathroom.

"No, sit," he shoves me towards the toilet," I am tending to you now." my anger rolls in again like the second coming of a storm. I don't need his pity or favor, I can take care of myself.

"What does it matter? It's not like you care," I pout, stewing in rumbling fury. I don't bother to stand again, knowing his great power that rivals many. He is a supervillain in his own right, a blight on society but a hero to some. I can't see him as a bad person but I know the lengths he has gone to to be where he is. You gotta crack a few eggs, you know?

I don't notice him staring down at me, too busy glaring at the wall to notice. It's not till he grabs my jaw again do I bother to pay him any mind. When our eyes meet I am startled by his depth. His face demands attention at this moment, locking me in his stare. My feelings dissipate till only alarm is left. Reprimand feels like my likely outcome. No one talks to the boss this way. He is known for his kindness as well as his ire and ire is the side I'm most likely to meet.

The boss watches me, his eyes darting between my own as his jaw clicks. I can't lie and say I'm not worried at this moment, because I am. You never know what little things will set someone off, just like I don't know what level of pain I will be receiving. Perhaps a good talking to about respect, he likes to go on and on about that. Maybe an addition to my weekly chores, that's a fair punishment. I can't think straight with his breath ghosting over my face.

It's when I'm at my wit's end does he move, pulling my face towards his. He gently presses his lips to mine, closing his eyes as he does. I stare blankly at him, stock still under his soft lips. He doesn't pry for more, leaning back shortly after in favor of looking at me. I still look straight, startled by the outcome I could have never expected. He chuckles, smiling as he shakes his head. At the cute sound, I look to him, trying my best to gauge the situation better.

"wha-," he shuts my mouth before I can ask.

"You are to remain silent while I tend to you," he states firmly. I simply nod, still too shocked to really have the energy to do anything but listen. He watches me a moment more before standing and fiddling with the sink.

The boss does as he says, tending to my wounds like a close friend. He is delicate in his touches, warning me before any intentional pain. It's weird, no other way to say it. I have no idea what's happening besides the obvious. He is cleaning up my busted face, but I don't know why.

Once he is satisfied with his chore he straightens up and walks me out of the bathroom. I stop in the middle of the room, looking up to him for guidance. He quirks a brow, just barely smiling to himself.

"If I knew a silly little kiss would stifle your anger I would have done it sooner," he chuckles. I fluster at the comment, looking away for the first time since the kiss. As I chew on my cheek, trying to sort through the tangle of thoughts and feelings, he turns me towards him. His hold is sweet, gentle, unlike before. He pets at my cheek, lightly grazing the cut with his thumb. Before I can react he is gone.

I stare dumbfounded into the room, confused above anything else. I try to sort through the event, trying to find the angle he is working. So many things go through my head till absolutely nothing makes sense.

Though one thing is for sure. This warm feeling in my chest won't go away.

The boss doesn't act differently when I see him around the facility. He is his prim and proper self, still bullying the underlings into working to their best and intimidating visitors. Though its been mere days, I feel like more is to be expected. With every passing minute, hour, day, I expect something to happen. As time goes on the feeling grows till every sighting of him makes me tense with expectation. Was this his plan? To make me tense at every turn till I'm forced to confront him less I go crazy? Or was it to keep me on my toes, perhaps I've been too lax around here and he knows the best way to keep me stressed.

Either way, it's working.

I work the cameras one night, lounging in an old rickety chair as I watch the cameras around the building. This chore is the simplest but the most tedious. No one wants watcher duty, it's an all-night endeavor. Nothing happens and god forbid you get caught slacking off when higher-ups walk by. The punishments are easily dished out around here. So staying alert and awake is for the best.

As the night goes on I can feel myself falling off, drifting in and out of rest. It gets so bad that I fall asleep dreaming I'm still working. I try to pinch myself awake, walk around a bit, but nothing works. I damn near fall off my seat when a loud clinking noise wakes me. As I startle the seat tries to roll too far back but is stopped by a sturdy hand. I snap my head up and around, disoriented above anything else. Looking to my right my eyes immediately meet all too familiar ones.

"I wasn't sleeping," I quickly shout at the boss," I was watching the cameras." I stare wide-eyed at him, hearting pumping quickly from the startling wake-up.

The boss snorts," I'm sure you were."

"yes, I was," I clear my throat," what are you doing down here?" he watches me a moment longer, his arm still clasping the back of my chair. With an amused huff, he grabs something off the table, hiding it in his fist. He holds it over my lap, waiting on me. I reach out, curious, palm awaiting.

"a gift," he answers as he drops shiny pieces into my hand. Three rings lay in my palm, all gold with obnoxiously large gems in the middle. I look at them confused, lifting one to investigate.

"what are," I look up towards the boss, the words dying off my lip. He is gone. Looking around the room for another second before I look down at the rings. The single one I'm holding looks well worn, some of the metal corroding away. The gem is annoyingly bright green with dirty specks. On closer look, I can see dried blood in the corners and grooves. The ring actually looks familiar, looking at it makes my cheek ache.

What is the boss doing with the pixie chick's ring?

I want to corner him, question his intentions with bringing the 'gifts'. It's unheard of for the boss to take souvenirs, he isn't a bragging kind of man. It's also strange for him to bring them to someone as a present. The message is clear, he hurt them for me. A man like him doesn't just give out something like this without earning it to begin with. He got those rings not with theft but other illegal means. I understand that much, what I don't get is why.

I try to hunt him down but he is always around the corner before I can get to him. Each time I swear I can see a little smile, teasing me with this weird little game of chase. Every night I go to bed without answers is like losing a battle I never wanted to have.

It's one night that the unanswered questions pick at me till my last strand of patience is frayed. I storm out of bed, throwing on a hoodie before I enter the public spaces of the compound. This late I have a guess where the boss is residing, well two guesses.

I try his quarters first, knocking first as I don't have a death wish. With no answer, I don't try to push my luck and head to his office. When I round the private hallway I see the light on, coming out from under the farthest door. I pull some last-second courage and storm down. I grab the handle and with a last confident breath, I open.

The scene before me freezes as all details sort in my brain. Two people in the room, one is obvious, the boss. The other is a worn man, bruised and beaten in a chair. I can't look away from the man as a strange fog covers his neck. A nasty gash in the center of the fog's attention, seeming to pour into the wound. The gash looks to be pulled in every direction, blood drenching the man's shirt. I know if his mouth wasn't gagged he would be screaming loud enough for the entire building to hear.

"What do you need," The boss steals my attention. I look from the tied-up man to the annoyance of the week. He doesn't look angry like I would assume, having heard horrid tales of others falling into this same mistake. I don't trust the casualness of him cleaning his hands with a dirty towel.

"Sorry, sir," I bow my head," I will meet with you when you aren't entertaining company." I offer the joke in hopes of lessening the ire he may release later. The boss snorts with a smile, shaking his head as he tosses the towel aside. Not waiting for an answer I slide back into the hall, closing the door quietly behind me.

Well, that went well enough.

In the morning I force myself to submit to this strangeness that has corrupted the boss and I's interactions. I've known of the man since I was in my mid-teens, I've worked for him since my early 20s. There is no way I truly know how the man acts in his day to day life. I know he is an ornery kind of man, though a little mischievous, and that’s the most I know of him. Perhaps this is normal. It's best not to harp on these things that are out of my control.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to ignore his presence in any room I enter. The cat and mouse game seems to have switched with me running from him. I feel like a coward, though it is a reasonable choice to just drop it. I never run from anyone, least of all some cocky villain type.

I go about my nightly routine in the bathroom, spitting into the sink before suckling water from my palm. Walking into the main room I pause looking at the well-dressed man in my room.

"Evening, sir," I say confused. At my introduction, he turns, keeping his arms clasped behind his back. He regards me with a small smirk, mostly keeping his feelings to himself.

"You wished to speak with me," he shrugs," here I am."

I nod," yea, it's not too important now, I sorted it out myself." it’s a lie, I have nothing figured out. His instances of manipulation have named him as conniving. I don't want to be the centerpiece in such affairs.

"hm," he clicks his tongue," shame. Leaving me so curious now, how could I depart with such a tempting question resting on the edge of my mind." his smirk forms into a Cheshire grin that brings thoughts into focus. It seems I've already captured his attention, perhaps have had it all along.

"No, no, it's not anything you would need to bother with," I try to wave him off. He doesn't budge, instead, taking a few steps closer. I step equally back. He huffs in amusement, pushing onward till I'm forced to stop against a bed. He crowds me, yet keeping a platonic distance.

"I'm insulted you assume that any of your worries would be below my standings, I wish to make your life easier whenever I can," he purrs, breaking the platonic distance," Did you like your gift?" my body tenses in alarm, feelings waring as I try to remain passive.

"T-the rings," I ask.

He nods," I don't think the Pixie Chicks will be missing them, they offered them so freely." I wish to scoff at him, nearly amused at his suggestion that they would offer him anything such as their jewelry.

"They didn't seem willing to part with them before," I somehow manage to tease back. His smile grows, tilting his head as he regards me.

"Not at first," he leans toward my cheek," but after a short visit they were more than willing."

I get fuzzy the closer he gets, feeling his hot breath brush over my face. It's hard to decide the right course of action. Push him away and deal with whatever reaction he deems appropriate, or let him be and see where this is going. The second choice is hard, his nearness muddles my ideas and actions. How could I be swayed by some man nearing my personal space? His kiss beforehand was quick and unintimidating, there was no build-up. Now it feels like an anvil swaying precariously on a snapping rope.

"Why are you here," I find myself asking. I fight the urge to raise my hand to his chest and push him away, not truly knowing if I would push him away. He leans in closer, crowding me nearly on the bed. I fall back onto a hand, holding myself propped up less I wish to lay on the sheets. His grin stretches wider.

"Well, you asked for me," he answers in a deep rumble. The change in tone is startling, fogging my brain more. It's hard to think, nothing is connecting in my brain. I want to push him, but I can't. I want to crawl away, but I can't. I want to pull him closer, but…

"I mean," I swallow," what are you doing in my room?"

"because you feel safest here," he answers.

"Why should it matter if I feel safe," I watch him. He straightens slightly, looking down at me with a lax stare.

"You ask too many questions," he mumbles before pushing forward and kissing me. I gasp, falling back onto both hands. The kiss breaks for just a moment before he is falling onto his hands, framing me as he crowds me on the bed. I'm not sure what to do now, having little to no experience in this. I'm not flirty or sexy, I can't bother with things such as making out or relationships. Though now I wish I knew just a little bit.

The boss grabs me by the hips and shifts me up the bed, crawling over me as I fall to my back. He straddles a thigh, his hands coming up to frame my head. I watch him stare down at me, his mouth lightly parts with a dazed look. Before I can bother with words he takes my lips for his once more. It's surprisingly passionate, to that I'm stunned. I expected demanding from a man like him, not affectionate. I timidly return the kiss, not knowing what to do but knowing I want to do it. Before I can get into it he lifts away, though not far.

He watches me a moment, gauging my reaction. His eyes are squinted, seeming to wait for a response, a response I don't provide. I look up at him, nearly panting in this strange rush of emotions and touch.

"What are you feeling," he asks skeptically.

I lick my lips," flustered." he hums, still trying to piece together something.

"flustered is good," he nods to himself, falling back to my mouth. I startle once more, still utterly confused at the turn of the night. Yet, I can't make myself stop it. I reach up and fist his tailored jacket, not knowing if I should tug him closer. The need to touch him is strong but the anxiety of everything else lingers.

The boss stuns me more as he grabs my hand holding his clothes and slings it around his shoulder. Quickly I take hold of the shirt from this angle, indirectly pulling him closer. My other hand shyly joins the first, cupping the back of his head in a timid touch.

"Doing good," he purrs, licking at my lips as he slowly settles himself on his forearms. He expertly parts my lips, telling me to let him in. I open, clenching a fistful of hair when he invades my mouth. When I tug on the bit of hair he moans, the sound felt in my mouth, felt on my tongue. The already eager kiss ramps in excitement when his hands start to trail down my body. He simply slides his hands under my shirt, holding my waist with a warm grip. His thumbs pet at my skin but stay otherwise still.

The moment seems to stretch on for hours, my discretions melting away into heart fluttering enjoyment. He doesn't push, keeping the mood just semi-erotic. I appreciate it though I'm utterly confused. What does he think he can gain from this? Surely a man like him doesn't just kiss random staff members without having some secret motive. I'm just a grunt, nothing more and nothing less. I surely hope he doesn't think he could manipulate me into sleeping with him. No, that won't do at all.

"Sir," I mumble against his lips as I try to pull away. He trails after my mouth, only pausing mid-action.

"yes," he asks. I shift back away from him, getting a better look at his closed eyes and wet parted lips.

"We should stop," I fluster. I drop my arms from around him, using them to push myself up and away. He squints his eyes open enough to watch me lounge against the wall, feet still partially under him. Looking between my eyes he sighs, dropping his head shortly after.

"Alright," he huffs," It is late, I will be on my way now." he shifts back onto his knees, rubbing at his face before righting his hat and clothes. Next, he stands up off the bed and passes me a final glance, ready to blink away.

"wait," I surprise myself by saying," can you answer one question?"

He tilts his head," besides that question?"

"yes," I deadpan," besides that one."

He smirks, clasping his hands behind his back," alright, I think I can allow one more question." I want to snort, amused but annoyed by his words. I keep quiet.

"are you," I start, worried to continue," are you going to use me?" I look at every twitch of his face with an eagle-like focus. Every nuance is jotted down as I watch him. He simply smiles, his face projecting amused affection. He then steps forward, leaning over the bed to cup my face.

"No," he answers shortly. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, watching himself do so. With a final sigh, he blinks away, no evidence of him ever being here besides my wet lips and fluttering heart.

"damn," I fall to my side," there goes my night."

The next couple of days are a whirlwind of strange. The game of chase is completely let go in favor of a game of chicken. His attentions have gone from nothing to constant. When we are ever around each other -which is way more common as of late- he attempts to touch me in some way. Though his posture and face stay casual, if not bored, he still cups my hips and trails his fingers over my spine like he is anything but bored.

Some nights he pays a visit, kissing me senseless till he decides I'm thoroughly flustered. He tries to edge me on, even taking to teasing to further some agenda I can't even bother to figure out. Though he said he wouldn't use me I feel like a toy. He comes to me with minimal conversation and shoves his tongue down my throat. The small conversations are filled with double meanings and unsaid words. He is hinting to something and I can't figure out what. I feel like a source of entertainment, picked at till he gains whatever he needed. The stress is getting to me, I've had enough.

I wait patiently in my room, leg bouncing against the bed as I cross my arms. I'm going to confront him tonight, I'm going to get some answers. This little game has to stop less I want my heart to fall victim to some scheming. Time draws on and on till its far pass the time he visits. I reluctantly settle into bed, dread, and stress muddling my brain.

The next night I wait patiently again, knowing he doesn't go for two nights in a row. I wait and wait, looking to the clock more than necessary. It’s when its well past midnight that I call it a night. Dread and stress fade out as worry takes its place.

The day after I set out to catch sight of the boss. I search high and low, keeping to the commons places in hopes of a casual encounter. I see no hide or hair of him. As I march around the facility, doing chores, that I hear about everyone avoiding the boss. It seems the man in charge has had a bit of a temper since this morning, shutting out everyone as he sits in his office.

The idea of visiting his office is appealing, knowing it to be the best time to get answers if he is mad. Anger brings out the truth. Surely I can go visit him and ask a question or two, not risking my life in the process. Though I think lowly of his intention I think he truly has no intention of maiming me.

With that decided I casually head upstairs towards his office. I make it to the familiar hallway, feeling the instinctual dread of being there. No one wants to be in this hallway, knowing who is working just at the end. Though I come here from my own free volition it's still a habit to fear this part of the building.

I walk to the door at the end, already hearing voices halfway down. As I get closer I can hear yelling. I listen intently, hearing stomping footsteps and a thing or two being knocked over. It’s when I hear a loud thud do I pick up the pace. I stop near the door, anxiety drenching my body as curiosity keeps me up. The sound of meaty thumps can be heard before a whimper.

"You are a piece of shit," a quick thunk follows," scum of the fucking earth, and that's something coming from me." I can hear the boss talking- more like yelling- behind the door. It sounds like he is entertaining again.

"boss," someone answers weakly," I'm sorry." a deep clink comes shortly after the man's words.

"Sorry doesn't earn my trust back," the boss snarls," Sorry doesn't fucking get Bradshaw off my fucking back!" the meaty claps come shortly after, repeating in alarming frequency. I step to the door, my body repealing against the idea of opening it and interrupting the important meeting.

I know who the boss is, always have. He does some shady stuff with some shady people, I being one of them. I get what's going on in there, a lesson is being learned. It's something that is understood by all who work here, don't cross the boss. Though it seems the poor idiot in there hasn't learned that though.

I don’t hear anything for a good while. It's to be assumed that business has been taken care of. Either way, I stay put, leaning closer to the door when I hear another softer voice. I try to make out some words, being more nosy this moment than I have my entire life. The softer voice only speaks for a brief moment, followed by the Boss with another set of short words.

As I focus on the door I don't hear steps walking up behind me. Only when someone grabs my shoulders do I jump. I jerk in this person's hold, stiffening as their fingers dig into my skin. I twist to look over at them, seeing a large man with a gruff-looking face. He offers no words, instead, reaching in front of me to grab the door handle.

The gruff man guides me into the room, holding firmly onto my shoulders. I look to the room, immediately finding a man collapsed on the floor covered in swelling bruises and deep cuts. He is mostly unrecognizable, his face beaten to a pulp. If I am to assume correctly, then he is dead.

"Clean this up before he stains the floor," the boss grunts as he wipes his hands with a dirty rag.

The gruff man behind me speaks," and what would you like me to do with her?" as he asks the boss snaps around, meeting my eyes quickly. He looks to me confused, twisting completely around as he drops the rag to the table.

"I'd like you to fucking let her go," the boss growls to the man," I am the only one allowed to deal with her." the clear hostility means nothing to the man behind me. He lets go and casually shuffles to the man on the floor, hefting him over his shoulders with ease. I watch the boss look to the two, following them with his eyes till the door shuts behind me. Once the door clicks does he look to me once again.

"Hello, doll," his ire drops to the familiar ease he adopts when around me. He leans back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His barely buttoned shirt wrinkles, his cuffed sleeves looking strange so far up his arms. I've never seen him so underdressed, though most would still consider his outfit formal.

"Hello," I answer guarded. I don't expect a warm welcome like this when I've been caught snooping.

"What brings you to my humble abode," he tilts his head with a small smile. It's strange to see such a night and day to his previous anger. He was screaming and beating a man into the floor. Now he is his typical charming self in a matter of seconds. I don't buy it.

"I haven't seen you in a couple days," I say, crossing my arms in the process. He gives me a once over, his smile peeling further over his cheeks.

"Miss me or something," he teases.

I scoff," or something." he chuckles, walking away from his desk to walk the room.

"Or something," he looks at the messy floor," what would that something be?" I follow him with my eyes as he skirts around me, keeping a distance. I don't bother turning around when he walks behind my back, taking the second to compose my thoughts and feelings. As of late, he has been popular in making my heart flutter like a caged bird.

"You haven't been around," I shrug," I was curious." he scoffs, seeming to understand my roundabout way of saying I've missed him. Which I guess is true, but I'd argue I want answers more than his company. Though both wouldn't be too bad.

He comes into my peripheral," I've been busy, I hope I haven't left you in need of anything in my absents."

"no," I turn away blushing," I haven't been…in need or anything. Just conflicted on some things." he hums, staying just in the corner of my eye. I can feel his eyes wandering over my body, trying to pick at every tick and twitch.

"would your confliction be related to the question you asked me the other night," he asks. I almost turn to him then, wanting to see his face, needing to see his reaction. I don't though, staring at his desk straight ahead.

"Perhaps," I answer. He huffs, his steps coming closer till I feel his heat against my back.

"do you think lowly of me," he says near my ear," do you believe I am truly a villain incapable of pure intent?"

"sometimes," I nearly whisper. I feel his sigh fan over my back. He steps closer, his front nearly touching me.

"Do you truly believe I would betray you," he asks. The question startles me, only for the reason that there is blood staining the floor beside us. "Would you betray me," he whispers against my ear. The threat feels looming as I look to the crime scene. Would I betray him if given the chance, the answer feels almost obvious.

"I don't," I huff," I don't think I could if I tried."

The boss hums approvingly, circling his arms around my hips to pull me flush to his front. His chin rests upon my shoulder, his head leaning against mine. The smell of his cologne is nearly suffocating in its intoxication. I awkwardly grab his arms, resting my hands on him.

"I don't think I could betray you if I tried," he answers similarly," you seem to have grown on me." I squeeze at his arm.

"Honestly," I ask skeptically," you truly mean me no harm, emotional or otherwise?" though he has answered this it still doesn't sit in my head, proof being demanded after every answer.

He turns and presses a shallow kiss to my neck," I could never hurt you, doll, I only wish to adore you." I turn to him, wishing above all else to believe him. He leans ever so close, his tempting kiss just in my reach.

"Prove it," I bait.

"gladly," he answers.

Quickly he has my lips captured, demanding more than ever before. His tongue takes no time delving into my mouth, circling my tongue in a sweet caress. I would have fallen if it weren't for his strong hold on my hips, instead, I keep myself propped up by him. When minimal thought comes back do I twist in his hold and tug him closer by his collar. I need his affection, crave it above all else. Thrusting my tongue into his mouth I take back some control I've lacked in these few days. He startles this time, groaning with a chuckle as I fist his hair.

"doll," he laughs into the kiss," I thought I was proving my affections here."

"then catch up," I tease, taking his mouth for mine once more. He growls, a sound I haven't really heard from him before, and lifts me. I yelp, holding tightly to his shoulders as my pelvis meets his lower stomach. His smile spread across his face as he squeezes my thighs.

"Sorry, doll, but I'm the boss here," he nips at my lips, lapping at them shortly after. His normally sweet kisses are oh so more divine now as fire is brought into the mix. My insides nearly throb with a need I've rarely ever felt before. I want him- oh god do I want him.

As we attack each other I hear a quick whoosh by my ears, my hair quickly flicking in the wind. I open my eyes enough to see out the corners that we aren't in the same room. I dislodge from him, looking around the bedroom we have teleported to.

"your room," I ask, having never been here before.

"Yes," he watches me," Is that a problem?"

I look to him with a cheeky smile," no." I continue where we left off, suckling his tongue. He walks us somewhere, the destination not particularly important in my mind. What feels more important is the insistent throbbing in my crotch. I find myself bucking into him, grinding myself into his firm stomach.

The boss rips his mouth from mine as I fall backward. I clench at his shirt, gasping when something springy shapes to my back. I drop my hands back, feeling soft sheets below me. I look up to him, quirking a brow. He shrugs, falling over me in a familiar position. Though this time he angles himself in a way I can finally feel his hardon poking me. I groan at the feeling, wanting to grab him right now.

Everything seemingly melds together, one moment I'm in his office, and next, I'm in his room. One second I have a shirt on and next, I'm laying in only my underwear. Him being left in only his hat and pants. The boss admires me for a second, the rush of erotic sensations nearly paused. His look is fierce, fire pouring from his gaze, but it still has room for affection and true admiration.

"so damn beautiful," he pets at my chest. He fondles my boob, thumbing my nipple with an all too excited gleam in his eye. "I could wreck you so easily," he ponders aloud. I reach up to his bare chest, running my fingers from his sternum down to his pants.

"I thought you wanted to adore me," I smirk, tugging him closer by his belt. He falls to his hands, cradling my head in his arms.

"Doll, I want to do everything to you," he purrs, attacking my neck with love bites. I hum, slowly flicking off his belt and reaching into his pants. He stiffens, grunting as I grab him.

"big words from a big man," I tease, stroking his cock.

He shutters," you don't know big yet, doll. Now be a good girl and let your boss go."

I let him go, slowly sliding my hand out of his pants," yes, sir."

The boss lets out a shaky breath, dropping his head to my shoulder for a moment. My nails glide over his stomach towards his chest and back down. I allow him a second, though that's all he needs.

He sits up, pushing off his pants but keeping his boxers. I admire the tent, feeling oh so powerful at the moment. I did that, I am the one who turned him on. That thought alone makes me feel ten feet tall.

I hardly notice when his hand trails up my thigh till he hooks a finger over my underwear. He tugs them down, grinning to himself as my mound is revealed. He tosses the clothing away without a care, quickly reaching out to thumb at my lips. The subtle soft feeling of his touch is nearly enough to make me groan in anticipation. I want him to touch me, I need him to touch me. He does as I silently plead, sliding a finger between my folds. He swipes up toward my clit, massaging so smoothly.

"So wet," he purrs," so wet for me." I don't bother with words as he delves his fingers lower, poking at my entrance with great amusement. I engulf his fingers as he pushes them in, slowly pumping them in and out with a curled retreat. My legs spread further apart on their own as I relish in the lazy strokes.

"Sir," I sigh. He looks up to me, his gaze is all too alluring. My teeth grind as I fight back the urge to buck towards him. God, I need him. His head tilts so slightly as he sighs, his fingers retreat shortly after. He crawls back above me, cleaning off his fingers with his tongue as he does.

"Why must you pull me in so easily," he asks as he discards his last remaining clothing," I want nothing more than to feast upon you but your hungry looks demand more." I reach up and cup his face then adjusting his hat that he kept upon his head. His cock pokes at my crotch, gently sliding at my lips as he lightly jerks his hips.

I pap his cheek," get over it, I've been hungry all week because of you."

He scoffs," all you had to do was ask."

"like I could get the chance to with your tongue down my throat at every turn," I answer. He laughs, looking down between us to grab at himself.

"I think you could have found a way to ask if you truly wanted to," he answers absently as he pushes his tip forward. I suck in a choked breath, tense against the sudden entry. The stretch of just his tip is already fulfilling to someone so starved this past month. He bucks shallowly forward, inching himself in slowly. He soon hilts, looking back up at me with a relieved face.

"I couldn't ask when I didn't know the true intentions," I mumble as my attention is solely drawn to his filling cock. My leg hikes over his hip, pulling him closer. He drops a hand to that thigh, bouncing his hips in slow short drives.

"Well," he kisses at my cheek," do you know my intention now?" I turn to him, meeting his eyes in such a vulnerable moment. Everything I feel is lain bare, the tenderness I feel towards him shining brightly. I cup his cheek, his short bucks ceasing.

"That really depends on after," I nearly whisper. He doesn't answer, instead, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. As he claims me his hips drawback before snapping forward in a breathtaking thrust. He starts a demanding pace, taking and giving in equal parts. His cock hits deep, stoking a fire that I felt was already an inferno. I fall away from his lips, whimpering against him as he plows into me. Our hips clap as the bed squeaks. I now know what it feels like to be on the other side of the wall, not to hear but to be part of the ruckus.

The boss forces pleasure from me with every buck of his hips. I whimper and grind into him, not being able to stay still as my insides crescendo. I barely notice how silent he is, me making enough noise for the both of us. He watches me steadily fall apart, in complete rapture at my noises. A hand sneaks between us, running through my curls before resting upon my engorged clit. I seethe at the gentle prod, crying out as he starts small circles. As I shout for him does he make a sound, a gentle gasp as his lips part.

I feel burned, hot, and demanding at this moment. My insides flutter with its oncoming orgasm. I yell and scream, reaching out to pull him closer as I have no better idea. I suddenly sit on the cusp of true pleasure, my body stiffening as just a breeze could push me over. I reach for him, pulling him in for a wet kiss. He allows it, briefly, pulling away as I fall.

The boss watches me, his face contorting in near pain. His hips stutter as my insides clench him tightly. I can barely keep focus enough to watch him as I arch and writhe below. My screams stutter out till I'm left silent, panting as he continues my orgasm with his unstoppable thrusts.

"Please," I beg. Begging for him to stop, begging for him to keep going. I somehow keep focus enough to watch him, watch him sigh and grunt till his hips slap to mine with one final buck. He drops his head to my shoulder, panting against my ear as he rolls his hips. I can feel his heat, feel his cum paint my insides. I am unable to do anything but hug him close and catch my breath

It takes longer than I thought possible to come back to myself. I'm still left panting under him, only able to listen to his own ragged breathing. I pet at his sweaty back, running the ends of my nails over his shoulder. We just hold one another, lost in the bliss.

"you steal my heart, doll," he mumbles in my hair," how could I ever part from you when you sing so beautifully for me?" I chuckle, not being able to form words just yet. The boss turns us on our sides, cradling me to his chest so tenderly. He pets at my hair, burying his nose against my temple. "I fear I have stronger feelings than first intended," he whispers," I will not leave you for more than a second at a time, my heart couldn't take more than that."

"do you always get this poetic after sex," I ask. He scoffs, reaching down to grab my thigh. He pulls my leg over his hip once more, petting up towards my ass. He gives me a quick slap, jiggling my rear as he does. I yelp, squeezing him when I do. He grunts, baring his teeth. He chuckles shortly after

"only for you, love," he answers," only for you."

I sigh, sliding my hand between us to pet at his chest. I want to give those words back, as I mean them just as truly as he does. The words sit on the end of my tongue, ready to be broadcasted to the world. It takes me a moment to gain courage, still resting securely in his arms.

"I love you," I barely get out. He holds me closer, nuzzling my head.

"I love you, too," he answers in kind. I try to fight off the smile spreading across my face but it's damn near impossible. I smile to myself and close my eyes.

--------------------

my intention never go as planned. i was struggling to write and i saw a cute post on villain with a soft spot for his lover. so i write a small tid bit, the part where he tends to her wounds. IT WASN’T SUPPOSE TO BE 7K WORDS! like how? i stayed up till 2am writing this. i’m just a sap, through and through.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#monster boyfriend #gangster boss #mob boss #the boss #exophilia #fluff #Enigma-IM #a kiss to build a dream on #armstrong

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abbybubbls · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing is Wrong, Doc, Trust Me

“Thank you for coming here today,” Dr. Iplier said, in his spot on the table. Dark just sat down on their spot, seeing that the rest of the seats were empty.

“It’s… just me,” Dark awkwardly said.

“I know,” Iplier replied, smiling for a second before having a serious face. “We need to talk about Wilford.”

Just at the tone of his voice, Dark knew that this had to be one of those conversations.

“What about him,” Dark asked flatly. “He seems perfectly normal to me.”

This was usually Dark’s go-to sentence; something quick and dismissive, which would get rid of something quickly without much thought. Sure, Dark would say it whenever the topic of Wilford is brought up, but nobody has really caught onto it yet.

“That’s what you say all the time,” the doctor said. Well, shit. “There’s no other way to put it, but Wilford is not normal. In fact, he’s the most… mentally unstable person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a bunch of wackos ever since we came here.”

Dark frowned.

“I don’t see how you think he’s worse than anyone else,” they said.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” Iplier replied, scratching his chin. “I was able to meet up with him a few days ago, and… well, I think you may need to see this.”

The doctor pulled out a piece of paper from underneath the table, and slid it in front of Dark.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Name: Wilford Warfstache (that can’t be his real name…)

Birth date: 11/9/????

Age: ???

Hair: Black

Eyes: Hazel (with a hint of pink?)

Height: 5’10

Weight: ???

Other: Pink handlebar mustache, no idea if it’s dyed - Forgets to wear pants most of the time - Carries a knife and gun everywhere, even when nothing bad is happening.

Story: Something bad enough to make him like this, I’m sure…

Now: A TV show host, even though he’s killed multiple guests… Talks to Dark… a lot. A hopeless romantic. Cheerful, friendly, but can be intimidating when he doesn’t know he is. Dismissive over time, and pops in and out of nowhere when we least expect it. Everybody suspects he has no laws of physics. He causes trouble when he says it was an accident, or he’s dismissive of it. He takes certain things too seriously, and ends up getting himself in trouble for it. Spontaneously shoots in random directions and excuses it for “target practice”. Can get very violent and easily offended. Mood swings, random violence, gun and knife handling, random bursts of singing… possibly more than that.

Likes: Dark (literally the first thing that came to his mind), fidget toys, TV, collecting weapons, vintage clothing, helping, storytelling, dancing, colors, music, straws for drinks, creativity, distractions, Bubbles™, himself

Dislikes: Interruptions, feeling alone, sitting still, too much detail, loud people, losing motivation, being lied to, smoke, thunderstorms, himself (???)

Diagnoses: Anxiety, Astraphobia, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Autophobia, Mania, Memory Loss, Schizophrenia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Treatments: Will talk to Dark about it. Medication, therapy, or both.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Dark paused for a while after reading the paper.

“You’re actually serious,” they said, staring at the doctor.

“Dead,” he crossed his arms. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what’s been going on with Wilford lately. He’s been very trigger happy this past year.”

“He’s always trigger happy,” Dark said. “He just needs a reminder every once in a while to stay out of trouble.”

“He almost shot Captain Magnum over choosing a song for Yancy’s karaoke party!” Iplier exclaimed, but trying to keep his voice down.

“And?” Dark asked. “Magnum is a pirate, he’s been through worse. He lost his legs for crying out loud.”

“He shot multiple guests on his show!”

“He didn’t mean any of it. It was an accident every time.”

“He almost killed our creator!”

“Mark insulted him, he deserved it.” Dark almost sneered by saying Mark’s name, even though they knew it wasn’t the right Mark… probably.

“He ignores his problems and blows those stupid Bubbles™ everywhere!”

“Wilford needs a good distraction. Besides, he said those things solve all of life’s problems, why stop him?”

“Because-!” Iplier tried not to raise his voice. Instead, he tugged at his head mirror. “Why do you always have to defend him when there are clear issues?”

“Because Wilford has no idea what he’s doing,” Dark said, plain and simple. “He told me so. I see an innocence in that, so it’s justified, right?”

The doctor stuttered. “I- you- he- no! No, it’s not!”

Dark’s eyes narrowed, and Iplier stood up from his seat.

“Dark, I know that you have the best intentions with him,” he said. “But you need to recognize that there are so many things wrong with Wilford! He’s traumatized for God’s sake!”

“Wilford is fine,” Dark said through gritted teeth.

“Have you read the paper?!” Iplier asked loudly. “It’s right in front of you!”

Dark didn’t bother to look down at the paper in front of them. “I don’t care what a piece of paper says about Will.”

“I wrote it all myself,” Iplier said, pointing an accusing finger. “Papers don’t write themselves down.”

“He is innocent,” Dark almost growled under their breath. “You’re lying.”

“Dark, I’m a professional!” Iplier exclaimed. “I notice when somebody is acting unnatural, and Wilford is anything but natural!”

Dark tried not to clench their fists. “He is when he’s with me. He tells me anything and everything. Wilford is happy.”

“I’m not stupid, Dark,” Iplier said. “I see the way you are with him, and it’s clear that you really want him to be safe. If you really care about him, why don’t you just do something about it?”

Dark breathed in. They wanted to scream. They wanted to punch a hole through the wall. Instead, they kept their voice calm and steady.

“I’m doing what I’m doing because I know him the most,” they said. “I’ve already done so much to make sure that Wilford is alright. He’s too far gone to even try to get professional help, even from someone like you. It’s the best I can do right now.”

Iplier’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he was at a loss for words, as if Dark had won this argument. The corner of Dark’s lips crept up to make a smile, but they paused as the doctor opened his mouth. Dark quickly interrupted.

“If you’re going to suggest we’ll go ‘Of Mice and Men’ on him, that for sure is not going to work. Wilford is far too clever to fall for something like that.”

Iplier froze, with his mouth agape. “I wasn’t going to suggest that at all.”

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Dark rested their chin on their hand, looking down at the table. “He’ll always get back up.”

The doctor looked like he was at a loss for words again until he glanced to the desk at the other side of the room. Wilford’s gun resided there, right next to the TV remote. Iplier froze, having no idea if it was there the whole time he and Dark were talking.

“Wilford left his gun here,” he said.

“I know,” Dark replied with their eyes closed. “I’ll give it to him once I see him.”

Iplier turned to them. “He killed people with that thing.”

“I know,” Dark repeated, quietly. “To him, it doesn’t matter. He’ll forget anyway.”

“Then give him more reminders,” Iplier said, sitting back down in his seat.

Dark kept a glaring look at the doctor. “What?”

“Give him more reminders,” he repeated. “Make sure he does something he’s supposed to do; drink water, take vitamins, when it’s time to eat, having time away from weapons, going outside, all that…”

“Wilford is not a child,” Dark said, almost bitterly.

Iplier defensively put up a hand. “I know that, but just… give him some kind of schedule. At least something to give Wilford something that affects him mentally in a healthy way. Teach him grounding, suggest he goes to therapy…”

“He already goes to the Host for that,” Dark said matter-of-factly.

“The Host isn’t a therapist,” Iplier replied. “He’s a radio host, it’s literally in his name. He knows a thing or two about mental health, but he’s not a professional.”

He shook his head to quickly change the subject. “Look, the point is, just give him a new routine so he can have something to look forward to. Something that’s positive, and won’t be so dangerous. It can’t be that bad for him.”

Dark exhaled slowly, as if releasing an angry ghost from their nostrils. “Alright… I don’t like it, but you may be right.”

They eyed at the gun across the room.

“Thank you very much, Dark,” Iplier said, standing up from his seat. “I know this isn’t a very fun topic for you, but I just wanted to address some concerns.”

Dark silently pursed their lips. “You’re welcome.”

The doctor nodded goodbye with a small smile, and nudged the paper closer to Dark before he turned to leave the room.

Dark sat still in their seat, staring at the TV screen. Then the gun. Then the paper.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Diagnoses: Anxiety, Astraphobia, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Autophobia, Mania, Memory Loss, Schizophrenia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Dark’s mind was blank as they read the list of diagnoses over and over and over again. Mental health issues, Wilford has always had them. His brain just works differently because of them. Not better, but different. Dark was pretty sure that Wilford would be aware that his problems would be a bigger deal to other people than to himself.

Wilford would get in trouble, apologize or dismiss the problem, and go on about his day. None of it would really be a big deal, right? It was just something that happened, just another thing to be anxious about. Wilford was only human, after all, and humans make mistakes…

Still, it’s not a bad idea to have some type of safe routine, for Wilford, and for everybody. It can’t hurt to try. They’re just rules, like no shooting indoors. It’s not even a real punishment; it’s just grounding. It doesn’t have to be so bad.

Dark pondered to themselves… There was that one ukulele that Wilford kept begging for that one time he and Dark went on a walk around the town. Now that Dark thought about it, they could get that for Wilford the next time they go out. It’s something that Wilford wanted. It’s a positive thing to look forward to, at least.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

SO! I wrote this a few weeks ago, and I wanted to make a series with this, but then I quickly lost motivation and decided to keep this as a oneshot. This is a new headcanon of mine where Dark and Dr. Iplier befriend each other by keeping Wilford in check in terms of his mental health.

I hope you enjoyed reading this! Reblogs and likes are always appreciated! 💗

#abby writes #markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #dr. iplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

The Void

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x mutant!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, HYDRA’s experiments, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, captivity, home invasion, stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 2381.

Summary: Once an ordinary human, you keep running away from both HYDRA and Avengers, knowing what your powers will be used for. The problem is the Soldat picking up your trail.

P.S. The reader is somewhat dark-ish in this one.

________________

Carefully slipping inside the laundry room through a broken window, you landed on the cold concrete floor and shivered, hoping you could find a really warm blanket somewhere upstairs.

Although you still felt a bit ashamed breaking in the houses of other people like that, at this point it was the one and only alternative you had. Of course, there was always an option to submit to HYDRA or whoever else was hunting you down, but you didn’t really appreciated it, simply trying to stay away from both heroes and villains since to you they were all the same. You knew perfectly well once somebody captured you they’d be using you for murdering other people.

Thankfully, laundry room wasn’t locked, and you started wandering the house, peeping into each and every room. Watching photos of the family the house belonged to, you felt guilty again. These people weren’t at fault you were homeless and chased out from every damn place on the Earth, but you still took what was theirs just because you could find no other way to live. Well, at least you tried to leave the place as it had been prior to your break-in, except a broken window in the laundry room and canned beans you’d eat.

God, you could kill for a bowl of homemade chicken soup. You barely remembered eating it before HYDRA captured you a few years ago. Of course, they didn’t try to starve you there, but you couldn’t call what they’d been giving you real food either. Thinking of your cell and those meals made you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. Everywhere was better than there, so you needed to put your shit together and take whatever fate offered you.

It was getting late, and you glanced at the tiny window in the basement, wrapped in a big grey comforter you brought from upstairs. You never slept in the rooms of other people, not knowing when the rightful owners of the houses you broke in could come back. Generally, you didn’t have problems with people, either escaping before their return or finding your way out secretly without them knowing somebody was hiding in their basement. However, sometimes you had a feeling people hunting you were coming close, and you didn’t risk getting too comfortable. Today was one of those days, and you bit down on your lower lip. These ones were probably not HYDRA operatives - they’d never risk attacking you at night when your powers were at peak. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean whoever was coming for you was harmless. You had to be prepared.

That’s it. Somebody was approaching, you could feel it in your bones. It was probably the one and only thing you were grateful to HYDRA - you were nearly invincible in the dark.

Silently leaving the comforter on the floor near an empty can, you got up, moving to stand near the wall behind the door, hardened black mass blocking tiny windows and leaving the intruder only one way to get in. You hoped they weren’t bringing explosives as you still had a hard time compressing the darkness around them - a month ago it resulted in some serious damage done to the house where you were hiding.

But this time was different: there was only one man who came for you, A strange man, though. He had a metal arm, and his body… It was something you had never felt before. The man was like that Duracell bunny they showed in TV ad, enhanced to the point he was barely human, probably.

But he was still just a man, now all alone with a monster like you.

When he entered quietly, leaving the door barely open, you blew it off its hinges. You had very little patience - now you would have to have a sleepless night, trying to find a new hideout as far as you could from this place and hoping HYDRA wouldn’t track you down. Its operatives were way more creative in their attempts to catch you: that mirror box trapping light nearly killed you last time.

Wrapping your fists into black mass like boxing gloves, you punched the man, but he quickly moved away, apparently, more skilled in combat than you were. Well, whatever, you thought as the darkness disintegrated on top of your skin, and then the intruder got a direct blow to his stomach without you getting near him. Coming to you at night was a suicide.

You kept beating him down until he dropped to the cold floor of the basement, beads of sweat and blood shining on his skin as you pinned him down, completely unharmed. You did your best to avoid the vital organs, but it was probably unnecessary - you could literally feel the soldier regenerating while he laid down, staring at the ceiling. Was he HYDRA’s creation just like you were? Or did good guys make beasts like him, too?

“I won’t do anything to you,” you told him, coming closer to look into his surprisingly handsome face, “but I’ll kill whoever you send to catch me next.”

“HYDRA’s… coming after you.” The soldier muttered, coughing and wincing from pain as you towered above him.

“You or them, doesn’t matter much.”

A part of you felt remorse for beating the stranger so bad he couldn’t rip the restraints holding him down despite his enormous strength, but the other part made you remember you were the victim, not him. The only thing you ever wanted was living like a human being, not a lab rat or a weapon of mass destruction used by whoever hold you hostage.

Besides, if this guy didn’t know the nature of your powers before attacking you, now he certainly did. It was unwise to let him live - he would definitely let his masters know - but you couldn’t force yourself to end him. Killing wasn’t nice. You had never enjoyed it.

“Avengers can protect you.”

What? Did the man work for them, then? You smirked, shaking you head.

“Avengers can’t protect themselves. Now please be quiet and let me leave. We’re done for today.” Turning your back at him, you went to grab your backpack and then put a few cans in it to continue your journey, tired and upset you couldn’t rest despite travelling all day long.

“I can help you.”

You abruptly turned to face him still chained to the floor and clenched your teeth. This was what HYDRA’s men were telling you year after year. Helping you, that what they were doing.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to plant spikes right through your tongue.” You hissed at him, going back and watching him with his pretty mouth finally shut. “If you wanna play a hero so much, go wipe HYDRA out and forget I’ve ever existed.”

The soldier stayed silent, and you exhaled angrily, marching through the basement to the stairs and quickly going up. God knew how many people could be waiting for you outside of the house - Avengers were usually gathering together on the missions, even you knew that from occasionally seeing them in the news.

Shit, it was going to be a long night.

________________________

One more month was gone as you continued to run and hide like the world’s top criminal, chased out of many cities where you could find peace for at least a couple of days. Now it was mostly one-night sleepovers anywhere you could find. You finally understood what being a mad dog meant - sometimes you thought you could kill for those canned beans you hated so much before.

Slowly, but surely you were running out of options where to hide. The only place now was the forest surrounding that little town where you relocated after your brief encounter with HYDRA two days ago. Forest was a bad place to be. You had very little skills allowing you to survive out in the wild for long. The more you thought about that, the more you realized you had, in fact, only one option left.

Suicide. Only then you could become truly free of that mad chase and ensure no one would use your abilities for killing others. You already had enough blood on your hands.

And still, when you though of black spikes piercing your head, you were shaking. It would be so much easier if somebody just shot you when you weren’t looking.

Huh, what a cruel world you lived in, you thought while finishing a can of chicken ham - God, you didn’t even remember when you ate something so delicious. It was harder to imagine killing yourself after a good meal, but you still considered the option, looking at the carpet with a dull expression on your face.

You were euphoric after your escape from that facility where you were held, and now you were thinking maybe it was better to just wither there like all those countless men and women before you, unable to contain their enormous powers in pathetic human bodies. What was the point of being so strong if you couldn’t have your life back? What were these powers for except the destruction? You’d gladly exchange your fantastic abilities on a chance to return home to your family. That is, if HYDRA let it be, which was unlikely.

You blinked, tired to the point you barely felt your own body. If they’d decide to come for you now, you probably couldn’t dodge the attack this time.

But it wasn’t HYDRA who came for you - with a syringe in your neck, you suddenly fell down to the floor, watching the handsome face of a man who had seemingly emerged from the wall behind you like a ghost. What was that? Was he like you, too? You didn’t sense it in him the first time, but maybe the soldier was more dangerous than you anticipated. Well, he certainly was, you thought as he carried you upstairs like a firefighter escaping the burning house. Would he lock you down in a cell, too? Would he let his masters experiment on you for the sake of humanity? Would he kill you once you closed your eyes?

Before the soldier reached the front entrance, you had already lost consciousness under the influence of the drag he injected.

The darkness that followed should had been calming, soothing, as you only felt safe in complete darkness, but you couldn’t find your peace: it was cold and lonely and scary when you were falling down deeper and deeper into the black void. Did he kill you, then? Was it the end? Would you spend your eternity in the dark?

It certainly felt like eternity before you woke up, still in the middle of nowhere, but feeling a soft mattress beneath your back. Your arms and legs hurt - it felt like you were tied up to bed. However, the fabric of your clothes was nothing like the ones you wore before the assault. It felt soft, and smelled pretty nice, too.

But you still saw nothing, nothing at all. Everything was pitch black.

Were you in a dark room? A cell? Whatever, you could work with it, you though and called the darkness as if it was a part of you.

And nothing happened.

You called again, then once more and once more, but the darkness didn’t free you. It didn’t answer to your plea - it wasn’t there at all.

Suddenly, you realized there was no darkness surrounding you as you heard a subtle buzz of dozen projectors directed right at you. The darkness was in your head because they blinded you.

You were screaming and crying and jolting on the bed, trying your best to break free, crush the metal headboard, do anything at all to just touch your eyes, discover what they did to you as you felt nothing but numbness and some tingling. Did they pluck out your eyes? Did they take them out because it would be easier to control you once you lost your eyesight?

You didn’t know whether you were still screaming when you felt a stranger’s hand on your cheek as he sat down on the bed. Exhausted and horrified, you tried kicking him, but the restraints kept you in place as he lowered his head to your face, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

Oh, it was him. It was the soldier who had emerged from the wall of the house you were hiding the last time.

“What did you… do to me?” Breathing hard, you yanked your head to the side to avoid his touch. Huh, safe, that how he called it. HYDRA or Avengers, there had never been any difference to you.

“I had to temporarily blind and drug you. The effect will wash off in a few days.”

With that, you forgot how to breathe for a couple of seconds. Temporarily? Did it mean you eyes would be alright? Did he not pop your eyes out of their sockets?

“Please, calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

You stayed quiet, but not because the soldier asked you to. You just laid there, listening to the buzz of the projectors and thinking you would be able to see something again. For a few seconds you were filled with a bitter sense of triumph. Maybe you were crying again, though you couldn’t really feel the tears streaming down your face.

Oh, how could you wish to die? How could you even think of committing suicide? No, no, never again, even if you’d have to break each and every bone in the bodies of your enemies, and rip their heads off. Whatever it takes just never to return to that black void again.

“No one knows you’re here.” The soldier said somewhere close to your face, and you furrowed your brows. “HYDRA won’t find you.”

“Until you push me to the battlefield.” You sneered, still furious he did such a horrible thing to you, leaving you here like that.

“Avengers don’t know you here either.”

Laughing sarcastically, you fell silent as you felt his flesh hand touching your cheek and brushing the hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry, I will fulfill your wish.” You could smell the metal of his breath. “You won’t exist for anyone but me.”

_______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @iheartsebastianstan @stargazingfangirl18 @ninefuckingoneone

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier #yandere #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 4 years ago

Text

Undercover - Chapter 5

Chapter Selection

It was so hot, I was begging for it. His lips grazing mine I lunged forward and captured his lips.

My tongue sliding into his mouth. He kissed back only to pull away when I was about to get out from his grasp.

He brought me up making me straddle his lap. His budge wanting to be released. My core was directly over him; I was practically dripping. I made slow movements not wanting him to notice.

I slowly grinded onto him making him groan; he opened his eyes and flipped me over. He was hovering over me while holding my hands above my head.

"Stay here", he got up walked over to his bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Latching my hands onto the headboard. His fingers went into the waistband on my underwear and he pulled them down with his teeth, taking his time.

He came back up and peppered kisses along my jaw an down my neck to my breasts. He put his mouth around my nipple, flicking his tongue over it.

I arched my back and hissed through my teeth, "Fuck." His hand making its way down to my pussy.

Teasing me his finger ghosted over my center; He run his finger up my slit. I moaned his name loudly, his hand going straight over my mouth.

"Baby if you want me to keep going you need to be quiet, can you do that for me."

"Yes, sir." Returning to his movements, slipping on finger into me. "Baby you're so wet."

I buck my hips and pleaded for him to keep going. He massaged my walls finding my g-spot and going continuously over it.

His kisses moving down my stomach till I felt his breath directly over my core. I hummed, "Baby please."

His tongue was on my clit but he didn't move it. I bucked my hips to urge him and he took it. Crying out, "Aaron please take the cuffs off, I wanna touch you."

Aaron looked up at me and agreed taking off the cuffs, "You have to ask permission to touch me." With that he returned to what he was doing.

His fingers pumping in and out when my stomach started to tighten.

My orgasm coming closer and closer as went down on me. "Aaron I-", I couldn't speak but he knew I was close. Just as I was about to cum his stopped.

"Why'd you stop", I wined. He looked up at me; his eyes were dark with lust and something else.

"I'm not done with you yet." He mumbled

"Get on your knees." He ordered and I was quick to obey. Getting on my knees I untied his pajamas pulling them down and throwing them across the room; then I removed his boxers.

His cock was twitching with just my breath on it. "Open", he ordered again. He shoved his cock in my mouth. Grabbing my hair to make the movements himself.

I was just something to get him off but I wasn't mad at it. The taste of his pre cum spread throughout my mouth urging me to do the work myself.

I grabbed his dick and pumped what I couldn't fit. He looked down at me and I met his gaze as I took all of him.

I relaxed my throat taking it; I gaged around him making him pulse in my mouth. He was close and right when he was about to cum I stopped and got up and faced him.

"If I can't cum then you can't either." He didn't like that answer. Leaning in closer, "You want me fuck you already."

I didn't answer I jumped onto him. My legs wrapping around him; my hand guiding his cock into my pussy with ease.

His hands ran up and down my back making small stratches as he slammed into me, but he stopped.

"I want you to see yourself." He walked us over to the mirror and I saw how flushed I looked. I got off of him and he pinned me to the desk in front of the mirror, "I want you to watch."

He slammed back into me, my hands not supporting my weight; I hit the cold desk sending a shock through my body. His dick hitting all the right places at a new angle.

I watched when he threw his head back, hands gripping my hips leaving bruises behind. He mumbled a number of curses and moans. I watched as my eyes dilated and sweat started to form on my face.

I rested my head on the desk trying to bring myself back up; when wrapped his hand in my hair making me look up. His rugged breath felt like fire on my skin when he knelt down lining kisses on my back; still thrusting into me

My edge started to build again when I clenched around him; letting out a loud moan. His hand went underneath me rubbing circles on my swollen clit.

"Cum for me little girl", his words pushing me further; my orgasm coursing through my body, feeling it from top to bottom.

He didn't stop and I went limp. The overstimulation becoming too much. "Please I can-", he slowed down. "Come on little girl one more, you can do it", he used a soft but aggressive voice. He sped up return to his pace.

My legs were shaking while the rest of my body was twitching. I clenched around him to make him finish faster.

The thrusts becoming sloppy when I felt him pulse inside me and release. A second wave running through.

Aaron rested his head on my back as he praised me. "Good girl", he pulled out and we both winced. "Baby...can you help me", I asked Aaron and he laughed. "Are you okay", he asked as we walked to the bathroom. He put me on the toilet and I peed.

I hummed while he cleaned me up; grabbing a rag and wiping between my legs. He helped me to the bed, "You still need my help?" I said no even though I didn't mean it.

I had what felt like jolts of electricity moving through my legs every step I took.

I just laid down; he was next to me, his head on mine whispering sweet nothings into my ear. His breath on my neck was relaxing.

I could've stayed there forever.

I was Curled up in his arms. His fingers running up and down my arm writing his name. Closing my eyes I smiled at his words. I nipped at his chest, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight princess."

Team POV

Morgan- Morgan was awoken by the sounds of screaming. He jolted up and looked around, the sound coming from the room down the halls. "Aa-", was yelled from the room. He laughed to himself knowing that it wasn't anything serious just a couple being a little too loud.

What he didn't know was that his boss was fucking his coworker into oblivion. He went back to sleep trying to block out the sound of the happy couple.

JJ and Emily- They were interrupted with the same yelling. They were doing there own thing; trying to block out the sounds they continued but it wasn't a use. JJ sighed and moved off of Emily. "Em let's just go to bed."

Emily wasn't excited about it but agreed, "Fine but if I find out who those people are i's fucking punching them.

JJ giggled and laid down with Emily by her side an dithery went to sleep.

Rossi- Dave was woken up with he phone ringing. He rolled over and answered, "Rossi."

The person on the other line had tears running down their face, they sounded like they'd been crying for hours. "Ros- Rossi."

Rossi sat up, "Reid what is it." Reid couldn't form words, his voice kept breaking up. "I was seeing my mom an- she uh she passed before I got to say goodbye."

Rossi didn't know what to say to comfort him, "Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

"I tried to call Hotch to tell him I was gonna take a longer leave but he didn't answer. Can you tell him for me." Spencer ended the call leaving Rossi in a state of shock and sadness.

____________________

Y/n POV

I was woken when the smell of pancakes filled my nose. I opened my eyes and Aaron was sitting at the table.

Trying to make my way over to him, I take one step and I stumble. He heard and he turned around jogging over to me.

"Baby are you okay." He kneeled down holding onto my upper arm helping me stand.

"Yeah, lets just say you defiantly did some damage last night." We both laughed at the comment and he helped me to the table. He gave me a box, when I opened it there were peanut butter pancakes; my favorite.

"Thank you." He gave me a smile an we ate.

When we were done we started taking a shower getting ready for work.

One of our phones were going off; it was Aarons. After finishing he called the number back.

"Aaron, Spencer called me last night. He told me he was gonna be gone longer than expected, his mom passed away last night."

I watched as Aarons face dropped I mouthed, "What is it." He held up his finger telling me to wait a sec.

He hung up the phone then spoke. "Reids mom passed, he's gonna be gone longer then we thought." I felt my heart ache for him.

He defiantly didn't need the added stress. Especially with his relapse. "We can't do anything for him until we get back."

I walked into my room closing the door behind me; when I was about to leave the hotel room. I met with Morgan about to knock. "Hey"

"Hey yourself mama, do you know if Hotch is still in his room." I walked down the hallway.

"Yeah his is. I think he's almost done. I'll meet you guys at the station." With that I left Morgan, he was knocking on Hotchs door.

I decided to get everyone some coffee. when I got to the station everyone was already there. I handed the drinks out.

"Okay so lets say this unsub is protecting the child. He has to know what goes on at home and if they are even being abused", JJ says.

I continue, "So it they have to work at a school or hospital." Everyone agreed with me and Aaron gave me a quick glace and smile.

Emily starts, "A school consoler, but wouldn't they be required by the school to report abuse or suspected abuse." Emily was right the only thing that made sense was a doctor a nurse.

Someone that didn't need to report anything because all they saw were broken bone and they don't ask many questions.

Morgan calls Garcia, "Hey sweetness, did any of the victims go to the same hospital?"

She speed types, "Hey back at you and two went to the same one but the other 3 went to separate hospitals." Hotch picks it up, "Were there any doctors or nurses that did multiple rotations at different hospitals."

"Yes sir there are 10 names all working at the hospitals were the victims were treated."

"Remove the names that aren't parents." Hotch gets up from his seat. "There are.....three."

"Did they treat the victims children?", I ask. "No but they were all working around the same time they arrived there. You don't have to ask I already sent the names and addresses to your phones."

"Thanks baby girl." Morgan hangs up the phone. "Ok Emily and Rossi you take Jason. Morgan and JJ you go to Smiths. Y/n and I will to go Graces, let's go." Hotch nods and we all head out for the SUVs going to the addresses.

_________________

Hotch and I are in the SUV driving over to Graces. When we arrive, there are cops waiting for us. We don't know if she was in there or not, the cops haven't reported any movement.

Hotch stops the car stepping out with his vest on. I put mine on in the car before we approach the door.

With the police behind us, Hotch is in front, "FBI". He kicks the door in, holy shit that was hot; I think to myself. I go in after he does.

I got my gun out and aim it up right; I snap around the corner to see and empty living room. "Clear!", I yell and I hear Hotch and the other cops saying the same thing.

I pulled out my phone and called Morgan, "You guys have anything?" I wasn't even sure if it was any of these people. I had my doubts; I figured another body would drop before we could get close to catching them.

Its cases like these that make me feel like it's too easy, that something bad was going to happen.

Morgan responded, "I patched Rossi and Emily, she's here; in the house. Hotch she has a hostage."

"We're on our way." I looked at him as we walk back to the car. "Hotch I didn't think this unsub was even willing to take a hostage."

He got into the drivers seat. "Maybe she feels that she's still doing the child a favor, in the end she 'saved' the kid from their mom."

I nodded and looked at the road ahead of us.

It took about 10mins to get to the Smith house. Cop cars and officers were surrounding the area. Morgan standing outside making some communication on a phone.

The snipers didn't have a clear shot. Someone was going to have to go in.

I turned to Hotch. "I'm going in." He didn't even look at me. I pulled him aside. "Hotch I can do this. You go in through the front and face her establish a trust. I can enter through the back door....and If I have a shot and there doesn't seem to be a way out...then I'll take it."

I could practically see the gears turning in his head. He didn't wanna put me in harms way but at the end of the day I was able to take care of myself, and he knew that.

"Okay." He took off his gun and holster handing it to Morgan as he walked to the front door.

Morgan calling the unsub before hand to let her know we were coming inside to 'help'.

I hear Hotch enter opening and closing the door behind him. I sneak in through an open window in the bathroom slowly making my way down the hallway. I hear Hotch talking to the unsub.

"Smith we can help the child ok", he has his hands by his sides. The unsub pointing the gun to him with the Mom his her arms holding her by her neck in a choke hold.

"Mothers aren't supposed to hurt their babies....she needs to pay." The unsub says in anger and sadness. she clearly had been a victim of abuse herself.

Hotch reassures her, "She will pay...ok, we'll take her she'll go to prison and loose custody." His voice becoming uneasy.

She raises the gun to the hostages head. "That's not good enough." There were tears steaming down her face.

I come put from behind the corner; turning into the room. My voice is calm, "Put it down, we'll take her you can watch her go to prison. Why kill her? Then she wouldn't be a to live with knowing she hurt her child. If you kill her, her suffering will end and she doesn't live with the consequences."

The unsub moves the gun pointing it down, I withdraw my weapon putting it into my holster. "You promise she will" I reassure her.

"I promise", I look her in her eye and she pushes the Mom towards Hotch. He grabs her and runs out the house send in the cops while I unarm her.

On the jet Rossi and Hotch told Morgan, JJ, and Emily about Reid and his situation; that they need to be careful around him, he was fragile.

When they ended the conversation we still and a good five hours till we got home. Everyone was asleep except me.

I look around and see Hotch in the corner of the jet on the couch. The team was huddled up in front.

I walked over to him; his head was leaning up against the wall. He was in an upright position so I shook him awake.

He opened his eyes a bit and he said in a soft voice, "What is it baby."

"I'm tired, their sleeping so I figured." He smirked and moved his leg so I could lay in between. My head against his chest, his head on mine.

My arms curled up against his body. His hands wrapping around me holding me close to him.

________________

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