#my face will be numb for 9 hours!
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My face sturgery went well!
#haha sturgeon joke#🐟#do dental fillings count as surgery#its not getting IN there but they gotta take some off first#my face will be numb for 9 hours!#me#hm. maybe some lukewarm tea will help. my mouth feels chalky
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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo
-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k
Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.
Click
January 16th, 4:06 AM
I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.
Click
January 16th, 6:38 PM
My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.
Click
January 19th, 6:11 AM
Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.
Click
January 19th, 8:27 PM
I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.
Click
January 23rd, 5:13 AM
Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.
Click
January 23rd, 9:53 PM
She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.
Click
January 28th, 7:06 PM
My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.
Click
February 2nd, 8:31 AM
I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.
Click
February 5th, 6:21 PM
I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.
That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.
With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.
He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.
It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.
Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.
In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.
These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?
Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.
He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.
Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.
You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.
Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.
On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.
“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.
When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.
There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.
You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.
Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.
His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.
“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.
You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.
His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.
Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.
Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.
Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?
But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.
Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.
For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Click
The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.
Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:
-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)
He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.
-I would love that. What time, my love?
Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.
-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.
Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.
A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.
Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:
-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.
You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.
“What is it?” your coworker asked.
“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.
Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.
You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.
No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.
You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.
“January 16th, 4:06 AM
I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.
When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.
You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.
“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.
“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.
“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.
Click
Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.
“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”
You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.
The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?
Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.
As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.
He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.
Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.
A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”
“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.
“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.
He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.
Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.
A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”
Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.
“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.
“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”
He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.
“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.
“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.
A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.
Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.
Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.
“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”
There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.
“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”
Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.
“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”
You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.
Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”
Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.
“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”
It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”
You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.
“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.
“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Click
The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.
You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.
“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.
You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.
“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.
author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.
this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol
alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆。˚
© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.
#—written by jade 🌿#jujutsu kaisen writing#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo smut#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#satorugojo#gojosatoru#jjk#jujutsukaisen#gojo x you#satoru x reader#satoru smut#jujutsu satoru#gojo#gojo jjk#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#bratbby333
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Tonight's dinner: vodka and sleep
#answers to questions nobody asked#god i hate vodka#edit. update. my face and extremities and EARS are slightly kinda weirdly REALLY numb#BUT. i no longer wanna 5/9 so I'll take it#but the numbness would be distressing if not for the impairment#like that time i had Too Much Edible coping with being bad at d2 pvp and was sitting there every 5 seconds going#''what was i doing???? ....O RITE CRUCIBLE. ............wat was i doing??????''#and i ended the night with Going To Bed after one match feeling like 20 years after roughly 48 seconds#and the last sober shard of my brain going ''STOP. apologize in the morning. you cant type.'' three letters into an apology to my friend#who had sent me an invite to vc and play together about 30 seconds before i turned off the console#anyways. Christ it's distressing this is egat t takes ti feel human again. 5-8 shots of skyy.#looking forward to talking to the therapist about this jn less than 12 hours.#logan's bitching again
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[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]
Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond's life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helena's childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who's always been in his life make a home in his heart.
Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity
Warnings: angggggst, angst, ANGST, no beta we die like Beesbury
Word count: 5k+
A/n: sooooo, thoughts pleaseeeee! I hope you like this chapter! omg we only have one chapter left from this series aaaaa🥹🥹 Comments and reblogs are appreciated<3
-> series masterlist <-
Chapter 9: don’t let me be misunderstood
Aemond.
Aemond.
Aemond.
Maybe you will grow tired of whispering his name to yourself, but you have been doing this for the past four or five hours while sitting by the edge of the lake under the clear starry sky, shivering with each cold breeze.
Aemond.
Aemond.
Aemond.
It sounds more like a prayer rather than his name. Maybe you are praying to him to take mercy on you and walk back the path he took earlier.
You rock on your bottom like a child, holding your knees to your chest as you stare at the reflection of the moonlight on the edge of the water. At this point, your head is emptier than the shadow of a cloud, and you do not know whether the shadow will darken by snow or thunderstorms.
There is little to think about, or maybe too much given how much you have been mumbling to yourself. You thought about all the little things his family said; about you, about Alys, about him — Even the mere thought of him hurts your heart, the flesh ripping slowly as if he has chained your heart tightly, squeezing it tightly.
Shuddering, you look up as the leaves rustle by the cold breeze, creating a soft sound that ripples through the air. You rub your bare arms, cursing yourself for wearing such a beautiful dress for a birthday you were pretty sure it would turn into shambles, but at least you knew Aemond would like it — you do not know if he did or not.
“Hey, loner.”
You turn around, finding Aegon making himself comfortable next to you on the grass, a bottle of whiskey in his hand as he hands you his coat.
“Go on, I’m pretty numb now,” he says, dropping the fabric around your shoulders, nudging you by his elbow, taking a long sip from the amber liquid, “What a shit show, huh?”
“Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse and raspy with all the crying you have done earlier, sighing loudly, “Yeah.”
“C’mon, talk to me,” he urges you, handing you the bottle before he lies on the grass, staring up at the sky as he waits for you to say something, “I know my brother’s an ass.”
“No, Aegon—“ you sniffle, turning around to look at him, “He is… he is just complicated. He is a good guy—“
“A good guy would never let his girl be insulted in front of everyone,” he scoffs, taking another swig from his bottle, “You didn’t deserve that, sorry on behalf of everyone, Clementine.”
“What?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes, totally surprised by how he knows the childhood nickname Aemond called you once, “How do you know that?”
“Fuck me,” he groans, slapping his hand on his forehead, “You tellin’ me he doesn’t call you this to your face?”
“No…?” You chuckle, resting your cheek on your knees as you smile softly at him, wiping the remaining tears away, “Does he do it a lot?”
“Duh! Every fucking time!” He tells you as if he is surprised by your confusion, “Oh, man, my brother is such a dumbass. He can’t shut up about you! Every time he opens his mouth all we can hear is Clementine this Clementine that, it’s honestly so annoying! I can’t fucking stand how lovestruck he is—woah, okay, I shouldn’t—” He sits up immediately, reaching to squeeze your shoulder when he notices your eyes watering again, your arms tightening around your legs.
“It’s not…” you take a deep breath, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks, “he was so lovely to me, I don’t know what happened but-but maybe I didn’t show him enough love, and reassure him—”
“You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me,” Aegon groans, dropping back down on the ground, “He fucked with you and you’re blaming yourself for it? Why the fuck would you do that? Are you a masochist or somethin’?”
“I’m not a fucking masochist, I just… I just love him so much! He thinks I will leave him too because everyone he’s ever loved once left him! Maybe I couldn’t show how much he meant to me, maybe I’m too weak to make sure he knows I love him and I’d rather die than let go of him.”
“Listen to me,” he urges you to lay down beside him, looking at the sky together as he continues talking, “Aemond is a really different man. He isn’t easy to love, hell, even Mum has issues with loving him—“
“That’s not making it any better, Aegon,” you glare at him, words falling from your lips coated in venom, “You’re telling me that even Alicent is hesitant to love him, and I’m supposed to just be okay with that? No wonder he chose to leave.”
“What we’re not gonna do is excuse his actions,” he slaps the side of your hip with the back of his hand, “I meant what I said, he doesn’t shut up about you, but he’s also hesitant about everything! You, me, Vhagar, he can’t let himself get hurt again, even though he knows you’ll never leave him on your own record. He fears the thought of leaving you, so he left you first because it hurts him less to think he didn’t like you enough instead of you not liking him enough.”
“It doesn’t make any sense!” You drop your hands on the grass in defeat, “He’s overthinking this! I know he’s still dealing with the thought of his snake of an ex but… but he needs to let himself feel loved!”
“He does feel loved, and those words didn’t come from his heart. They came from the dark voices in his head, I bet he couldn’t even look at you when he left,” Aegon explains, turning his head to look at your face, “I think you should go find him, I’m pretty fucking sure he’s beating himself to death for doing this to you. But remember that he is the one who needs to apologize, not you.”
“You’re right, he let them call me poor and a gold digger,” you chuckle, sitting up as you speak, “Do you know he said that our relationship was ridiculous?”
“Fucking hell, this guy is a twat I swear,” you laugh a little when Aegon fakes a cry, “Why can’t men be normal for a goddamn second?”
“You realize you’re a man too, right?”
“Yeah, and do I look normal to you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, sitting up to give you a hug when you laugh, squeezing you into his arms before he lets go, “Give him a piece of your mind, okay? Make him regret it.”
“Fine,” you nod, trying to find enough courage to stand up and leave, but a heavy feeling grounds you, “I think… I think I’m afraid, Aegon.”
“Don’t be, he might seem intimidating but there’s nothing in his heart except the love he has for you. He’s just being a brat. Maybe slap him once or twice and he’ll be at your mercy completely.”
“I know you wanted to say give him a blow job, thank you for censoring your words,” you say, standing up before brushing the dirt off your dress, and handing Aegon his coat back.
“Actually,” he holds his finger up, giving you a teasing smile, “I wanted to say that you should probably sit on his face so he won’t be able to talk.”
“That’s your brother, you disgusting asshole,” you laugh softly, taking your heels in your hands as you walk barefoot in the path Aemond took earlier.
You remember how he would sneak away from dinners when he was a kid, running towards the empty stables with a book under his arm; it was one of the most exciting things for both of you when you searched for him all night, only to find him sitting on straws with a flashlight and his book.
Walking through the dark stables, you see only a few lights on, and your thoughts are confirmed when you slowly stand in front of the open door, finding Aemond sitting on the ground next to a seemingly sick horse, stroking its neck gently.
“They say she’ll die,” his voice comes out in a gentle tone, and for the second time tonight, your eyes fill with tears — the yearning makes your chest tighten, even if it has been only five or six hours since he left you.
You step inside the stall, cautious not to make any sounds to disturb the unconscious horse lying on the ground next to him as you slowly lower yourself next to him on the straws, your bare shoulders brushing against his arm.
“What’s wrong with her?” You ask quietly, trying to keep your tears away from streaming down your face; how can you survive when you hurt just by looking at his side profile?
“Old age,” he sighs, looking down at his lap, pressing his lips into a thin line, “It’s rare, but she’s been clinging to life for so long.”
“Was she yours?” You look at him, sucking in a sharp breath when he turns around to look at you, his face red and cheek covered in dried tears, smiling sadly at you.
“No,” he shakes his head and looks away from you, “She used to be Mum’s favorite. I remember when she would take us to different races with Uncle Gwayne, and tell us about how she was so close to becoming a champion herself with her.”
“Why couldn’t she do it?” You ask, reaching to hold his hand nervously, giving him enough time to pull away but when he doesn’t, you relax instantly.
“She got married,” his answer is curt, as if even the mere thought of his parents being together sours his mood, “Her marriage was the end of her dreams. Maybe she would be happier if she didn’t have us quite young, maybe we would be happier if we didn’t exist.”
“Don’t say that,” you swallow, frowning slightly as you reach to cup his cheek, turning his face to stare into his eye, “She’s much happier with you by her side, and I’m forever thankful for your existence.”
“You’ll be much happier without me,” he rests his palm on your hand, kissing your thumb as he keeps his gaze locked onto you.
“That’s not for you to decide,” you caress his scarred cheek, trembling a bit as you feel the warmth radiating from his skin, “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, when I’m kissing you, when I’m holding you.”
“You deserve the fucking world,” he rests his forehead on yours, closing his eye as he lets himself get consumed by your touch, “I can’t give it to you. One day you’ll realize how damaged I am…”
“You don’t need to give me the world, Little nerd, you are my world,” finally the tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your face as you speak, “Don’t push me away, I’m begging you—“
“I’ll only hurt you, and you’ll leave me. Losing me would do less harm than being with me—“ his voice cracks, his hand moving towards your back, rubbing and memorizing every up and down of your waist.
“No, Aemond, no,” you shake your head frantically, sobs wrecking your body as you try to tell him how you feel, “Don’t give up on us! I’m sorry I couldn’t show you how much I love you, I’m sorry if I was not enough for you. But please, please, don’t let go of me!”
“Don’t cry, I can’t-I can’t bear to see you cry. I’d rather get stabbed to death than see your beautiful face covered in tears,” he begs, leaning down to kiss your tears away, “I’m not giving up on us, I…I’m just giving us a break so we can think. I’ve never been loved like you have shown me.”
“Then why?” You scream at him, fisting his shirt to pull him even closer, your nose brushing against his, “Why did you say we were ridiculous? Why did you not stand up for me when I was being humiliated by your family? If I’ve shown how deeply I’ve loved you, why does it feel like it’s not enough?”
“It’s more than enough, my gorgeous girl,” he kisses the bridge of your nose, and you feel his tears fall on your cheek. “I’ve been taking you for granted. I…I can’t even defend you against them. I was paralyzed. I wanted to vanish and never be seen again, and now I see why. I’ve failed and hurt you so much, not thinking about how me leaving you alone might make you feel.”
“I love you, Aemond,” you say, words falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, “I love you, I love you— I can’t put into words how in love I am because every time I look at you I feel like I’m suffocating with the amount of affection I hold for you! I’m not good with words, Little nerd, but…but I know that being with you would hurt much less than me moving back to Beesbury knowing we aren’t going to make it.”
“I’m not giving up on us—I…” he sighs, gathering his thoughts as best as he can before he replies, but in truth, he is just as much of a mess as you are, “I need to think.”
“I love you, and even if we don’t make it, just know that you are the happiest most memorable experience of my life,” you lean up a little, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, “Aegon told me about the Clementine thing. I didn’t know you remember.”
“How can I ever forget?” he kisses you again, his heart tightening with each peck he leaves on your lips, “You were so chatty about your silly dreams, and I can’t forget Hel’s confused face when she mumbled about you dreaming of Tangerines.”
“There’s still hope for us, right?” You ask, shaking your head and sobbing when he pulls you into his embrace, holding you against his chest tightly.
“There’ll always be hope for us,” he mutters against your hair, his fingers holding onto your shoulders as if the subtle touch would ground him and not let him drown, “I just need to think.”
“Yeah, sure,” you pull away, wiping your tears before you give him a small smile, watching as the first rays of sunshine fall on the entrance of the stables, and you take it as your cue to leave him with the hope of kissing him again, “I’ll see you inside.”
“You mean everything to me,” he whispers, watching you stand up on shaky legs, brushing the straws off your dress as you try to keep yourself calm and collected, but the soreness in your eyes makes it harder.
“And yet you didn’t say you love me back.”
You leave with one last smile, walking barefoot towards the end of the pathway, heels clinking to each other as you swing them with your hand, biting your lip to stop yourself from falling apart.
The numbness comes back. You can feel how your body gets hollower with each step you take towards the door of the building. Your feet ache, and you know there will be bruises on them in a few hours.
The voices from the inside of the building grow louder, and when you step inside the hall, you find your best friend and her brothers trying to keep their Mother sane while their uncle argues with their grandfather.
“Babe,” Helaena notices you when you close the door behind you quietly, crossing the dining hall to pull you into a tight hug, shushing you as you let your sobs wreck your body without a care in this world, “I’m so sorry, beautiful, so so sorry.”
“Hey…” Aegon appears beside you, rubbing your back while you bury your face in Hel’s neck, letting her calmness seep into your skin with each caress she leaves on your head.
“Where is Aemond?” Otto asks, his voice echoing in the hall, “He needs to get here and explain the mess he made.”
“What?” you whisper in disbelief, slowly removing yourself from Helaena as you look at him, “The mess Aemond made?”
“Father, please,” Alicent says, rubbing the skin of her neck with shaky hands, “It is not Aemond you should be angry at, nor it’s her mess.”
“We ought to be more careful than ever! Your boy has already ruined what we tried to build for so long when she decided to marry a woman nearly ten years older. After everything I have done, everything you have sacrificed, it should not be so hard to put a leash on him and make sure he doesn’t fuck around and make a fool out of us in front of Daemon!”
“What we built is gone, Father,” Alicent sighs, taking a large sip of whatever liquor is in the glass, “They have amazing lives, my children. They are happy at least, happier than me or Gwayne ever were.”
“Happiness won’t make their names pop inside their father’s will!”
“We don’t even like that man! We fucking hate him in fact, so you better keep your shit away from us,” Aegon spits the words out, huffing when he sees Otto glaring at him, “Aemond was ridiculed tonight, at his own fucking birthday and all you care about is his reputation?”
“He is the only person who can change things but now, for getting into another miserable relationship with a nobody, he has lost the chance!”
“She’s been Helaena’s friend for so long, Father. Mind your words,” Gwayne interrupts him, crossing his arms as he keeps his eyes locked with his father.
“Or what?” Otto spits the words out, his phone clutched in his hand tightly.
“Or I will break your fucking neck.”
You turn around as soon as you hear Aemond’s voice, clutching Helaena’s hand when he walks very slowly toward his grandfather with his hands behind his back, his head held high.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Otto replies, giving Aemond a challenging look, “You didn’t have the courage to open your eyes and see how your fiance was taking advantage of you, now you want to break my neck because I said the truth?”
“No one disrespects my girlfriend, not even you,” Aemond stands in front of Otto, his glare unwavering, “She’s only two years older, doesn’t come from a rich family full of snakes, and most importantly, she cares about me. So yes, I would break your neck, because she is different from Alys and even I can see that with one eye.”
“You are blinded by lust because you can’t fall in love in nearly three months after a failed marriage—”
“I swear I will strangle you to death—”
In the blink of an eye, Aemond grabs Otto’s collar, but luckily Gwayne is quick enough to reach them. You watch in terror as Alicent and Aegon try to separate Aemond from his grandfather while Gwayne holds Otto back. You can not see if Aemond is trying to hit him or not but even the idea of him getting hurt because of you makes you tear up.
“Aemond, enough!” you reach and wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him back with Aegon’s help, holding on to him tightly so he will not run off and punch Otto in the face, “Please, don’t give him another reason to lash out.”
“For fuck sake, Aemond, get a grip!” Daeron yells, and you see the sea of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he tries to fight off the anger in him.
“Me?” Aemond chuckles, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head in disbelief, “Me? I endured a night with the person who cut out my eye! I sat there and watched how they insulted someone I care about and couldn’t do anything to prevent it! I waited and took the humiliation on my birthday because I didn’t want to make someone else miserable by opening my mouth! Now you say I need to get a fucking grip? No, Daeron, it’s you, it’s all of you! You want to control my life but I won’t let you win this time.”
“It’s not about winning, Aemond—“
“We’re leaving,” he cuts off his mother’s sentence, grabbing your hand gently in his, threading his fingers through yours before he starts walking toward the door. You follow silently, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you let him guide you outside.
You walk hand in hand in tense silence as you walk towards the parking, finding the doorman running with Aemond’s car keys, handing them to him before he says a quick good morning. Aemond nods and leads you to his car, opening the door for you, and surprising you with a quick kiss on the crown of your head.
You give him a soft smile, sitting in the car and waiting for him to join you. The sunlight shines between the trees and warms your skin — grateful for the lack of roof of the car.
He starts the car, his lips pursed and a deep frown forms on his forehead as the sun shines on his face. He reaches for the dashboard and pulls his sunglasses out, putting them on before he twists the riding wheel, driving the car out of the parking lot to the main path.
You lean your head on the back of the seat watching the clouds move as Aemond speeds up. He shocks you by resting his hand on your thighs, gently caressing the bare skin through the slit of your dress.
You turn your head to look at him, noticing his stiff shoulders. He is battling for peace in his mind, you are sure. Maybe he feels guilty about how he treated you, maybe he just wants out from his family.
He sighs, his thumb moving up and down the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the warmth you provide him with. You rest your hand on his, caressing the blue veins under his skin with the tip of your nail, skimming your finger over his knuckles gently.
You do not realize how much time has passed, but when you wake up, the Targaryen mansion comes into view, and you find Aemond pushing his sunglasses up on his head as he drives the car through the opening gates, looking stressed and confused from all the things that were said during the past few hours.
“We’re here,” he tells you softly, getting out of the car with ease before he walks and helps you out of the car as well, guiding you inside the mansion by his palm on the small of your back.
“Good morning, sir,” one of the house holders says, and Aemond nods at her, “Would you like to have breakfast here or on the balcony?”
“I’m not hungry, but she might be,” he answers stoically, turning his head to look at you, but his face softens slightly when he notices your disappointment written all over your face.
“I’d love to have breakfast on the balcony, please,” you let go of Aemond’s hand, smiling at the householder as she nods and smiles back, leaving the two of you alone to take your breakfast to the balcony.
“I need some time to think,” Aemond whispers, looking down at his shoes as he rocks on the balls of his feet, “I’m sorry I dragged you here, but I… I need to get my thoughts together, and couldn’t just leave you alone with them. I need a break.”
“It’s okay, I’m around if you need me,” you sigh, walking away from him upstairs towards where the balcony is, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Your day is dull, your mind is even worse. You had your breakfast with a bitterness you had no idea you possessed whilst you thought about Aemond, wondering what he was thinking about — probably the chaos that his family created and left the two of you dealing with the ruins of it later.
You tried to make yourself busy with doing whatever came to your mind; a long walk to the Weirwood tree and back, wandering around the mansion in hopes of finding something interesting, skipping meals, and snacking on fruit. But nothing seemed to make the gaping hole in your chest go away nor did they help with the dark thoughts that came into your head.
Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, you regret taking a long walk; Your feet are bruised and you notice a few painful blisters on the side of your feet, hissing as you apply a healing cream on the skin.
A knock brings you out of your thoughts, and before you can answer, you see Aemond pushing the door open, standing in front of you with tears stinging his eye. He has taken off his clothes from last night, now he is only in an old t-shirt with sweatpants.
“Hey you,” you greet him softly, watching him curiously as he takes a shaky step to the bed, slowly kneeling in front of you, taking the cream from your hands before he squeezes the tube on his palms, warming the cream before grabbing your ankle to gently apply it on the wounded skin.
“How did you hurt yourself?” His voice is barely above whispering as he kisses your shin, closing his eye when he hears your hisses in pain.
“I…I walked barefoot to the stables this morning,” you explain, eyes casted away from him, trying to escape from his intense gaze, “And I took a long walk a few hours ago.”
“You shouldn’t be so careless,” he rests your foot down, grabbing the other one in his warm hands as he speaks, “You need to take better of yourself or you’ll get hurt.”
“You’re doing a fine job in hurting me and taking care of me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes when his eye falls on your face.
“And I’m sorry for that.”
Your head snaps in his direction when you hear the tremble in his voice, lips parting in surprise as you look at his teary eye, his cheek pressed against your leg as he looks at you — his gaze is so intense to the point of melting you in place.
“I…” he starts, resting his forehead on your knee, “I don’t need a break.”
“Aemond, you need some time—“
“I don’t need a break because I love you,” he looks up at you with the utmost adoration a human can ever possess, “I was a fucking idiot before for pushing you away, for doubting what we have, but I love you so much, my Clementine.”
Your lips quiver, and with a shaky hand, you reach down to cup his face, caressing his cheek as the tears fall on your fingers softly.
“I love you in a way I never thought I would,” he closes his eye, leaning his head into your palm, “I imagine my life without you in it, without your voice, without your smile, w-without you calling me that stupid nickname. Do you know what I saw?”
At this point, you are both crying, and with every word that slips past his lips you lean closer to take a good look at the desperation in his face, the longing, the love.
“I saw nothing, it was all black,” he sniffles, one hand coming to rest on the back of your neck as soon as your forehead touches his, “My life doesn’t exist without you. There is no hope left for me if you are gone. I will perish and turn to ashes if I don’t get to hold you at night. I will burn by the humiliation and misery I created for myself because I believed you would leave me.”
“Oh, my love,” you cry, pulling him up just a little so you can reach his lips easier, pressing a quick kiss, “Are you sure you’re not saying these because you feel defeated?”
“I’m sorry for directing my anger at you, I’m sorry for not voicing my love sooner. I was scared, fucking hell, I am scared because this is… this is not even near half of what I felt for anyone in my life; it’s blinding, it makes me bleed with need for you. All I’m asking is for you to accept my apology and take me back.”
“And if I don’t?” You ask, his lips hovering above yours, and you see him smile sadly, his large hand coming up to rest against your wet cheek.
“Then I will try to cope—“
“I’m not giving up on us,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around his neck, “We will get through this together. We will talk, we will fight, but I won’t ever let go of you. There’ll always be hope for us.”
“I’m so fucking sorry for saying what I said,” he bites his lip to keep his composure, but his vision is blurry with unshed tears, “I’m not giving up on you, I promise.”
“I won’t either because I love you.”
“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, sealing his words with a deep quick kiss, “I love you, I love you—“
You press your lips to his, tasting his salty tears as they mix with yours, moving in sync while you explore each other's mouth after the chaos that pulled you apart.
“We’re okay,” you whisper, wishing to know if you will be able to hold and touch him like before, “We’ll be okay.”
“We are okay,” he nods frantically, “I love you, my gorgeous girl. We’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.”
“Neither will I,” you pull him into your arms, pressing his face to your neck as you sob, holding him close, breathing in his calming scent, “I won’t leave you, I will never put you through the pain you endured again.”
“I won’t do that either,” he presses a kiss to your neck, brushing his nose against your earlobe, “You’re my everything, I love you.”
#rue writes✍️#🍊dreams#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#aemond one eye#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen fluff#ewan mitchell x reader#hotd angst
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Part 3: Miss Me, Miss Me Not
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11
And it hits me when the lights go on (shit, maybe I miss you)
(In which a lazy writer somehow still manages to make her deadlines, much to her own shock)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff
Words: 5.8K
TW: Swearing (once again I think that's it?)
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I'm not gonna lie til about an hour ago, I very much did not think I was gonna give y'all a Monday update but here we are! A couple of housekeeping things, I went back and added months to the years so hopefully that's more helpful. I lowkey dislike this part but I felt like the fic needed it and I'm excited to write the next part. Ngl, the editing on this is pretty nonexistent because trying to read this back lowkey killed me so please feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, and disliked and anything you wanna see going forward. I really appreciate all of y'alls feedback and the long reviews make my day! Have a good rest of your week lovies <3
September 2017
Azzi: just got home :)
It’s a simple text and it should be easy for Paige to conjure up an equally simple reply. Instead she finds herself typing and deleting, over and over, because nothing sounds quite right. There’s this hollow feeling thrumming in her chest, that has only gotten stronger every passing minute since she’d said goodbye to Azzi at the airport. If she tries hard enough, she can still feel the remnants of their last hug lingering against every inch of her skin. She wants to memorize that feeling and create a blanket out of its threads to numb the ice cold shiver that’s been repeatedly running through her veins from the second Azzi had gotten on that plane. But even that might not be enough. Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison.
Paige lies to herself that it’s an accidental slip of her fingers, that she’d meant to press send not call, that she had every intention of hanging up the facetime on the first ring itself.
But then Azzi picks up on the second one.
And really it would be rude to hang up.
“Hey what’s up?” Azzi’s face fills the screen, tired eyes staring intently at Paige through the screen.
“Oh um-” Paige fumbles for words, awkwardly shuffling her feet that are dangling off the side of her bed, “I just wanted to ask how your flight was?”
Azzi raises an eyebrow, “you couldn’t have texted me that?”
“Too tired to text,” Paige lies and the words i just wanted to hear your voice stay stuck, burning hot, in her throat, “gotta save these money-making fingers for more important things.”
“Yeah I’m hanging up-”
“NO-” it comes out far more forceful than it should and if possible, Azzi’s eyebrow shoots up even farther, as Paige clears her throat, “I mean- uh- you didn’t tell me how your flight was.”
Paige is too busy cringing at herself to notice the light blush that tinges Azzi’s cheeks. She’s too busy wondering why this girl brings out this nervous bumbling side of hers to notice the fond smile that almost cracks through Azzi’s lips.
“The flight was okay. I actually got to sleep this time,” Azzi says pointedly and Paige laughs.
“So what you’re saying is it was boring as hell.”
“I’m saying it was really peaceful not having someone yapping in my ear while I was trying to sleep.”
“So you didn’t miss me?” Paige presses, trying to keep her voice teasing despite how desperately she wants the admission.
Azzi hesitates, as if she’s debating with herself, before, “I didn’t say that.”
It’s a little ridiculous how large Paige’s grin is but it’s okay, because Azzi’s smiling back, soft and shy. They’d look foolish to anyone else, the way they’re so intently gazing at each other through a screen as if there’s no barrier between them at all.
“It’s gonna be weird going to the gym without you tomorrow morning,” Paige confesses after a second, moving to lay down on her stomach.
“I bet. You’re gonna get absolutely nothing done without me,” Azzi teases dramatically before her eyes soften, “it’s weird that I’m not gonna see you at all tomorrow.”
There’s something gut-wrenching about that admission and yet, there’s something in it that heals a part of Paige’s heart that she hadn’t even known needed to be fixed. It means something to her that Azzi must feel it too. Because if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been just a little afraid that maybe the connection was just in her head, that maybe Azzi was simply tolerating her presence out of kindness.
“You should just move to Minnesota,” Paige replies finally, “much nicer than Virgina or whatever.”
“Have you ever even been to Virginia?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she flips herself to lie on her back, holding her phone above her in a way that lets Paige see entirely too much and yet not nearly enough.
“No but it sounds boring as fuck.”
“Not with me,” Azzi says, biting her bottom lip sheepishly as soon as the words are out.
Paige smirks, suddenly filled with a brand new confidence, “yeah? You’d make Virgina interesting for me Fudd? What would we do?”
Azzi licks her lips and Paige feels her mouth go dry.
“We’d be together,” the younger girl says finally, averting her gaze as the depth of her words begin to make Paige feel like she’s being flooded by an ocean of emotions she’s not quite ready to feel yet, “anything can be interesting if we’re together.”
It would be so easy to come up with a sarcastic quip or tease Azzi for being a sap and yet there’s a certain sincerity in this moment that feels too fragile for Paige to feign nonchalance.
“Is Virginia nice in the winter?” she asks finally, hands fidgeting with the hair ties secured around her wrist, “Minny’s a little too cold sometimes.”
Azzi’s eyes shine and Paige wants to try and read them, find the little clues hidden in her irises and solve the mystery lingering behind the crimson flush of her cheeks. But the truth is that Paige is a little scared of what she’d find, a little scared that discovering Azzi might mean discovering herself too.
“You should come find out some time,” the brunette says, casual tone filled with intricacies of something far deeper. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to saying anything of actual substance and they tip-toe around saying what they both want, daring the other to ask first.
“I dunno,” Paige says, determined to win the game, “I’m not in the habit of showing up to places without a proper invite.”
Azzi scoffs, “a proper invite? Are you expecting someone to send you a carrier pigeon with a gold letter addressed to her royal highness or something?”
“That would be nice,” Paige surmises and Azzi rolls her eyes.
“Does your back ever hurt from carrying that ego?”
“Only hurts from carrying my team.”
“Oh my god you’re so full of it.”
“Full of talent? Yessirrrr.”
Azzi huffs, “Paige.”
“Azzi,” Paige hums.
“Do you wanna come visit me in Virginia during winter break?” Azzi says finally, a small smile playing on her lips like she’s okay with losing this game as long as it’s to Paige.
“If I must,” Paige says dramatically, shrugging her shoulders and everything as Azzi lets out an offended squeak. But inside, her heart flutters at the offer, at the idea of seeing Azzi again, even if it feels like a lifetime away. Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes.
“Actually you know what nevermind, you don’t gotta come,” Azzi concedes bitterly, scrunching her face (and Paige would never tell her this but she thinks Azzi looks just a little too cute when she’s mad and so maybe she riles her up on purpose)
“No takesies backsies Az,” Paige sing-songs before her lips uptick from a smirk into something more sincere, “hey Az,” she whispers, giggling to herself when Azzi pretends to ignore her, “I’d really like to come see you in Virginia during winter break.”
And as a brilliant grin dazzles across Azzi’s face, Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige.
“Good,” Azzi whispers as they fall into a comfortable silence.
There’s this serene sense of calm that laces itself around Paige’s nerves. Her normally fidgeting body is content to be perfectly still, an anomaly to her usual demeanor. The truth is that Paige isn’t the kind of person who’s okay with just existing; she likes to spend every second in motion, living out the high. There’s a part of her that’s scared of missing moments, scared that the people around her will leave her behind if she doesn’t chase them. But it’s different with Azzi. The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind.
“Wait,” it’s a little while before Azzi pipes up, shaking Paige out of her thoughts, “what time is it?”
Paige’s eyes flicker to the time on her phone, confused by the line of questioning, “it’s almost 9 why?”
“Don’t you have a team party or something to go to tonight?” Azzi asks, face scrunching, “I swear you told me you had something tonight.”
“Oh-yeah- Amaya’s back to school thing,” Paige sheepishly scratches her neck, suddenly feeling itchy in her flannel shirt. She’d forgotten she was wearing that instead of her daily clothes. Hell, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be going somewhere in the first place, too occupied with other thoughts.
“Bro get up,” Azzi orders, “you’re already late.”
“Nah it’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Paige says and she thinks she should probably feel a little more guilty about it.
“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Azzi asks in disbelief, “dude you’re the star of the team. You have to go.”
“Amaya will understand besides-” Paige drags in a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as the next words fall out in a quiet whisper, “I don’t wanna hang up yet.”
“Paige c’mon we can talk tomorrow,” Azzi tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best.
“I wanna talk right now,” Paige argues, “you don’t wanna talk to me?”
For a second Paige thinks Azzi might just say no, might just chip away a little bit of heart with a well-intentioned rejection, but she doesn’t, “always wanna talk to you P.”
“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me.”
And Azzi does. All night.
Two weeks laters there’s a letter, in an envelope with a picture of a carrier pigeon, that arrives in the Bueckers’ mail box.
To her royal highness,
Unfortunately I couldn’t find an actual carrier pigeon (I swear I tried) so this envelope and the mailman will have to do.
~ You are formally invited this winter break to the Fudd family residence in Virginia. ~
(And you better show up Bueckers)
Yours,
Azzi
February 2033
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Ice whines petulantly as she makes herself comfortable on the couch across from where Paige is getting her makeup done, “this is parental neglect.”
Paige laughs, eyes closed, her makeup artist does her mascara, “you’ll survive.”
“You don’t know that” Ice argues, plucking a grape from the fruit basket before segueing into a rant about how boring Arlington, Texas is.
Paige is grateful for the distraction her younger friend is providing. Her nerves had been on edge since the moment she’d woken up this morning, anxious to get the impending farewell press conference over with. She’d already started accepting that the Wings weren’t the right place for her but that feeling had only been heightened by her trip to the Valkyries. And ever since she’s come back, Paige feels a little bit like she’s sleepwalking through her final moments in Dallas. If she’s honest, she’s probably rushing things a little bit. There’s still plenty of time before she really has to move to Oakland but it had been her choice to move there as soon as possible. Paige had always been good at conjuring excuses and she had plenty as to why she needed to be in California so soon. But at the end of the day it isn’t about training or team bonding or any of the other hundred justifications she’s given anyone who’s asked. It’s about a little girl who’s eyes had been brimming with tears when saying goodbye, a little girl who had made Paige pinky swear that she’d be back as soon as possible.
Really, Paige thinks she should be applauded for her restraint, because truth be told, the second Stephie’s lower lip had trembled, Paige had been prepared to ask Ice to just ship her stuff to Oakland so that she’d never have to let go of the little girl’s hand.
And here’s the thing, Paige is willing to admit she wants to go back to the Bay Area for Stephie. It’s that pesky little part of her that’s desperate to go back for Stephie’s mother, to go back for one more hesitant yet lingering touch, that she won’t ever share with anyone else.
“I never thought I’d live to see you and Azzi willingly playing together again,” Ice says as soon as Paige’s makeup artist leaves the room, “KK and I didn’t even try betting on it, we were that sure it wouldn’t happen. Shit I should have. I totally would have won.”
“Don’t y’all get tired of betting on my life?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the first part of what Ice said.
“Betting on your life has made me hundreds of dollars bro,” Ice says, before a more earnest look crosses her face, “but genuinely P, are you sure about this? There’s a lot of history there.”
Paige sighs, “it’s not about our history. It’s a basketball decision. And we’re both mature adults who know that. I’m just tryna win. Nothing else.”
“It’s never nothing when it comes to you two.”
“It is this time,” Paige argues adamantly and Ice raises her hands in surrender.
“I just don’t want another set of teammates to have to deal with y’alls bullshit,” the younger girl teases, but it’s laced with a hint of seriousness that sends a flare of guilt shooting through Paige’s body.
“Ice-” she begins.
But Ice is quick to change to a lighter subject, “can’t believe Jana’s the one that gets mom and dad back together. I always knew she was the favorite.”
“We didn’t have favorites,” Paige plays along, thankful for Ice and her ability to always keep the tension to a bare minimum.
“Oh don’t lie. We all know you did,” Ice scoffs and then lets out a chuckle, “and now Azzi’s actually a mom. That’s kinda insane. And you met the kid right?”
“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Paige says and she can’t help the way her entire face breaks into a gleaming smile as her thoughts turn into memories of Stephie. She doesn’t even realize she’s gotten lost in a different world until Ice coughs, an amused grin playing on her lips.
“You’re so royally fucked Paige,” Ice shakes her head, “the only person I’ve seen you smile that big for before is Azzi.”
“She’s a cute, smart, adorable kid, that’s why I’m smiling,” Paige tries to defend herself.
“She’s Azzi’s cute, smart, adorable kid,” Ice counters.
“That has nothing to do with it,” Paige protests again but it rings hollow to her own ears.
“Oh my god I needa call KK and get this bet started. It’s only a matter of time for real,” Ice says, more to herself than to Paige, as she whips out her phone, probably texting KK.
“A matter of time till what?”
“You’ll find out Paigey,” Ice says gravely with a mocking smile, patting Paige’s head, “all in due time.”
***
The Dallas Wings media room is buzzing, reporters desperate to ask Paige questions and the blonde tries to maintain a smile despite the fact that her heart is lurching in her throat right now. Her opening speech had been short and sweet, parroting basically the same thing that had gone out on her social media the night before; she’d been desperate to just get it out. Generally, Paige is pretty good with the media, having been immersed in the spotlight since basically forever. The attention and how to maneuver it has always come naturally to her so she’s not sure why she feels so unnerved by it all today. From the back of the media room, Ice sends her a thumbs up and a reassuring grin and Paige lets out a breath, glad to have at least that comforting presence with her.
“Aidrian Ginsburger with Bleacher Report, Paige, you’ve obviously spent all of your career so far with the Wings, can you tell us a little bit about the impact this organization has had on you?”
Paige smiles at the question, letting her brain skim through pages and pages of fond memories she has of time spent with this team. It might be time to move on but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of cherished moments.
“Yeah um- this place has really shaped who I am as a person. Since day one, the front office, obviously it’s a different one to the one I came in with, they did a lot to make sure that I was comfortable. My teammates through the years have been incredible and I wouldn’t be the player I am today without them. And of course the fans you know, they always showed out for the team, for me. Always supported me in anyways and I hope that I was able to give back the love to them that they always gave to me,” she says, suddenly nostalgic for the team that had started it all.
The next questions are similar in nature and Paige’s answer varies only in words but not substance. She feels herself start to settle into it, now fielding the expected questions about the Wings and Valkyries with an air of confidence. There are a couple questions about Azzi that make her heart thump, but that was to be expected. It’s a pretty brilliant story in the making, two MVPs who used to play on the same college team coming together. Talia had warned Paige in advance that there was no avoiding it. But for the most part the questions have an easy answer about how Azzi’s a brilliant player and she’s excited to play with her old friend again. That is until a familiar hand shoots up and all the tension that had previously dissipated, comes roaring back with a vengeance.
“Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News, Paige, as others have said today, you and Azzi Fudd played together at UConn and you were best friends.” Olivia’s eyes glint viciously, “I mean it’s pretty well documented how hard you tried to recruit her to UConn. But despite being best friends, the two of you have been never seen hanging out, outside of games and formal events, unlike your other teammates that is-”
“Is there a point to this?” Paige asks, hands fisting in her lap as she tries to keep herself calm.
Olivia smiles, sugary sweet, “I was just wondering if maybe there was some tension and how that would affect your on-court chemistry at the Valkyries?”
“There’s no tension,” Paige lies through gritted teeth, “we didn’t hang out because we live far apart. There isn’t much else to it. And even if there was, Azzi and I are professionals. We wouldn’t let anything off the court affect our goal to win.”
“You lived far apart before UConn too, but that didn’t seem to stop you guys. What changed?” Olivia presses.
“Time did. Our lives did. There’s nothing sensational here. It’s just a case of two people drifting apart,” Paige says and the fabrication feels heavy on her tongue. If only it really had been that simple.
“But clearly not that much,” Olivia says, and Paige glances at the moderator, desperate for an intervention, “there were plenty of fan pictures of the two of you out getting ice cream with Azzi’s daughter. It seems like you’re already fitting into that Bay Area life-”
“I’m not hearing a question at the end of your sentence,” Paige hisses and she can practically already hear the scolding she’s going to get from Talia once her agent gets wind of how this press conference had gone. The entire media cohort is watching the exchange with wide eyes, no doubt questioning whether they were embarrassed or impressed by their colleague. Ice is mouthing something to Paige, probably something along the lines of please keep your shit together, but Paige is steaming. Really, she should have expected this.
“Well if you’d let me finish,” Olivia snarls, the façade of innocence dropping, “even if the two of you have drifted, as you put it, clearly there’s still a relationship there. How big of a role did Azzi Fudd play in your choice to move to the Valkyries?”
Paige sucks in a deep breath, nails digging into her palm at the question, “Azzi is the best shooting guard in the country. That was her role in my decision to move to the Valkyries. I don’t know what else you’re trying to imply, but I want to play with her because we play well together. That’s it,” she stands up and there’s pin drop silence, “thank you all for coming but we’re done with this press conference.
***
Paige is seething as she exits the media room, Ice hot on her heels trying to calm her down. The sane part of her knows she should head back to the makeup room or even to her car, instead she finds her feet carrying her in the direction of where she knows Olivia Reynolds will be, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine like she always is.
“What the actual fuck was that?” Paige spits as she comes to a halt in front of the reporter.
“I know you think playing basketball is the only job in the world Paige, but that was a reporter doing her job,” Olivia says, her calm and composed voice only furthering Paige’s irritation.
“Bull-fucking-shit.” Paige sneers, “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.”
Olivia cocks her head, “oh so you do remember who I am to you then?”
“Oliv-”
“Because if you did remember, I’d like to think you’d have the courtesy to at least personally tell me that you were moving to your,” she drops her voice, “ex-girlfriend’s team instead of letting me find out with the rest of the world. You don’t think you owed me that?”
“That’s what this is about?” Paige sighs, “Olivia we’ve been divorced for almost three years now, I don’t owe you-”
“You didn’t owe Azzi anything either,” Olivia whisper-yells, the calm in her voice replaced by the same anger that had tainted the last year of their marriage, “but when we first started dating, you kept us a secret for months. You wouldn’t even tell your fucking teammates cause you were so scared she’d find out,” her eyes drift towards Ice who looks like she wishes she’d made a different decision rather than following Paige out here, “you said she deserved to hear it from you but apparently I don’t-’
“I didn’t mean it like that Olivia. Look, I meant what I said up there. There’s nothing between- ”
“Spare me,” Olivia says, as she stuffs her notepad into her bag, “you can lie to all those other reporters out there about how all of this is a basketball decision. You can even lie to yourself if you want. But you can’t lie to me, not when I spent four years fighting to keep our relationship from getting crushed under whatever it is that Azzi is to you.”
***
It doesn’t matter how far Paige burrows her head into her pillows, she can’t seem to stop herself from hearing Olivia’s words reverberating through her ears. The two of them had done well at co-existing in their social circles after the divorce had been finalized. While no one could quite call them friends, they’d done a good job at being friendly, being able to converse and share an occasional drink when in their combined friend group. And if Paige is honest, she knows she’s fucked up, knows she probably did owe Olivia a call. But calling Olivia would have meant calling someone who would inevitably make Paige face the truth, just like she had today. The truth that, even with the deal Talia had concocted with the Liberty hanging in the background like a dark presence, the move to the Valkyries was about a lot more than just basketball for Paige.
She’s so entrenched in her thought that she doesn’t bother checking who it is when the facetime rings, irritation seeping into her voice as she answers it, face still buried in her pillows, “WHAT?”
“Miss Buecks?” a tiny voice comes through the phone and for a second, Paige thinks she must be dreaming, until she finally lifts her head to look at her phone, and Stephie’s small face lights up the whole screen. And it’s like she can feel little hands on her shoulders, slowly unknotting her tightened muscles.
“Stephie,” she breathes out, a sudden sense of serene calm washing over her previously tense body.
“Hi Miss Buecks,” Stephie says happily before she squints at the screen, “you sleep weird.”
Paige laughs, “and why’s that?”
“You’re not wearing pajamas and it’s only seven. ‘Dults don’t sleep at seven,” Stephie says matter-of-factly.
“It’s actually nine here,” Paige says, a little surprised by the time; she hadn’t realized she'd been moping in her bed for that long. Ice had forced her to get lunch together, not wanting to leave Paige alone after the encounter with Olivia. Once she’d finally gotten back to her apartment, Paige had flopped on her bed, taking out her frustrations on her poor pillow.
“That’s not poss-ble,” Stephie scrunches her face, “Mama’s phone says it’s seven.”
“It’s seven in California, it’s nine in Texas,” Paige tries to explain though by the way Stephie’s looking at her, she thinks she’s probably just confusing the girl more, “how’d you figure out how to call me babe?”
Stephie gives her an exasperated look, “Miss Buecks I’m five. I know how to use facetime.”
“And does your Mama know you're facetiming me?” Paige asks, eyebrows raised.
“She’s in the shower,” Stephie whispers, grinning sheepishly.
As if on cue, Azzi appears on the corner of the screen and Paige feels her mouth run dry. The darker skinned woman is clad in a light pink fluffy bathrobe that ends right above her knees, giving Paige the perfect view of her long, toned legs that seem to shimmer despite the shitty quality of the facetime. Rivulets of water cling to her neck, delicately cascading down the valley of her breasts before disappearing from sight. And Paige must be dehydrated because never has she wanted to taste a drop of liquid more than she does right now.
“Stephie,” Azzi groans, as she walks towards the phone and Paige gulps, heart beating faster with every step the other woman takes, everything about her becoming clearer and clearer, “what did I say about using my phone.”
“Only in em-a-gencies,” Stephie recites, “but Mama I had an em-a-gency.”
Azzi tilts her head, eyebrows raised as she gives her daughter a knowing look, “and what was your emergency?”
“I really, really, really, this much” Stephie stretches out her hands as far as they’ll go, really, really, really, miss Miss Buecks.”
Paige feels her heart flutter. Stephie’s words feel like a hand carefully pulling her out from under the pile of stress she’d been buried under the whole day. It’s like the little girl is pushing away the rubble pressing against her lungs, turning the rocks into dust with a light touch and Paige feels like she can finally breathe.
“Sounds like a pretty big emergency to me,” she says, relishing the way Stephie’s face lights up at the admission, “cause I really, really, really miss you too Steph.”
“See Mama,” Stephie says, placing the phone against a wall so can place her hands on her hips and look up at Azzi with a pleased smirk.
Azzi rolls her eyes before glaring at Paige, “you’re a bad influence on her.”
“I’m the best influence on her,” Paige argues, sending Stephie a conspiratorial wink, “just you wait Az, I’mma teach her all the good things.”
Something unreadable flashes across Azzi’s face before she’s back to looking at Paige with an unimpressed arched eyebrow, “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.”
“We’ll see,” Paige says slowly and Azzi shakes her head before turning to Stephie.
“Alright Stephie bean time to go brush your teeth. It’s almost bedtime babes,” she says with a stern look
“But Mama-”
“No arguing, you have school tomorrow missy,” Azzi reminds the little girl and Paige can’t help but marvel at the mother that Azzi’s become. And it makes her heart ache for the fantasies she’d dreamed of when she was in her early twenties. She’d always known Azzi would be a great mother; Paige had just naively thought she’d be there alongside her too.
“Can Miss Buecks stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” Stephie asks, peering up at Azzi with big doe eyes, “please Mama pleeeease.”
“I’m sure Miss Buecks has other things-”
“I don’t,” Paige cuts in far too enthusiastically, clearing her throat to get back some semblance of restraint as both mother and daughter turn to look at each other, “I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can stay till you fall asleep Stephie.”
“YAYY,” Stephie cheers enthusiastically while Azzi studies her with a weary look, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then you can read me, my story Mama.”
With that, the little girl runs in the direction of what Paige can only assume is the bathroom, skipping with childlike joy as she sing-songs about something Paige can’t quite make out.
“You know you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks right?” Azzi says slowly as she grabs her phone and sits on the couch.
Paige shrugs, “I have time to stay.”
“Do you?” Azzi asks skeptically, “because from what I heard the Wings are having a little farewell party tonight, for you.”
Paige narrows her eyes, “and how exactly did you hear that?”
“I have connections.”
“You talked to Ice.”
“I talked to Ice,” Azzi concedes, “and I’m pretty sure you’re already an hour or so late for it.”
“Exactly. I’m already an hour late so why bother,” Paige says, sitting up so she can rest head against her headboard, “why were you talking to Ice?”
“I can’t talk to my friend?” Azzi asks slowly.
“Of course you can but why specifically today?” Paige presses
Azzi bites her lip, “I um- I watched your press conference today. You uh-” she averts her gaze, “you seemed really stressed at the end and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
A soft grin upturns Paige’s lips before she can stop it, “were you worried for me Fudd?”
“That’s not-” Azzi groans, “shut up.”
Paige smirks, “you were worried for me.”
“I was concerned for my future teammate," Azzi huffs, “besides,” her face hardens, “she was way out of line.”
Paige sighs at the implied mention of Olivia, “maybe but maybe I deserved it.”
“No you didn’t,” Azzi protests and that oh so familiar protective tone in her voice carves itself into every crevice of Paige’s heart, “no one deserves to be put on the spot like that. She was being unethical trying to dig into your personal life like that.”
“This is nice,” Paige says softly, unable to help herself.
“What is?”
“Seeing you get all defensive over me. It's nice to see you still care. I didn’t know if you still did.”
Azzi’s quiet for a second, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looks at Paige, “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.”
There’s years worth of unsaid words lingering in the silence between them as they breach some unspoken rule they’d both inadvertently agreed to. And they both know that they shouldn’t be saying things like this to each other, that they’re teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss that has nothing but destruction at the bottom. But Azzi’s words feel like sunshine, like heat waves across her skin and Paige is so tired of feeling cold.
Before either of them can say another word, Stephie comes back into the room, crawling into Azzi’s lap.
“I’m back,” she beams, completely unaware of the way the two adults are scrambling to act normal around her.
“Here baby,” Azzi hands the phone to Stephie, “take Miss Buecks to your room. Mama’s gonna go change and then she’ll come read to you okay?”
“‘Kay Mama,” Stephie complies, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s cheek before running towards her room. For a second Paige’s screen is blurred in motion until Stephie fixes her again and Paige catches a glimpse of Stephie’s room, specifically the walls that are painted the perfect shade of Valkyrie purple.
“I love your walls Stephie,” she compliments.
“They’re pu-ple,” Stephie exclaims, “that’s my favorite color.”
“First the ice-cream, now the color, you’re stealing all of my favorites kid,” Paige teases but she’s secretly pleased by this revelation. It’s dangerous how fast Stephie’s starting to whittle down Paige’s walls and build herself a permanent shelf in Paige’s cabinet of my people.
“Can I tell you a secret Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, bringing her lips closer to the phone.
Paige smiles, “of course you can.”
“I think Mama misses you too,” Stephie says softly and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat, “I heard her tell Nanna on the phone.”
“Can I tell you a secret Stephie?” Paige lowers her voice, leaning into her phone.
“‘Course you can Miss Buecks.”
Paige swallows as the admission falls from her lips, “I really miss your Mama too.”
I miss her always and I think I’ll miss her forever.
“What are you the two of you whispering about,” Azzi’s voice cuts in as she tucks herself next to Stephie, a children’s book in her hand.
“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says immediately, winking at Paige through the phone.
“Yeah,” Paige echoes, ignoring her erratic heartbeat, “nothing Azzi.”
Azzi looks between the both of them, clearly aware she’s being left out of something, but doesn’t push further. Instead she flips open the book, pulls Stephie closer into her arms and starts reading. If anyone were to ask Paige later, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea about a single word in that damn book. Because as Azzi’s soothing voice begins to lull Stephie to sleep, and the younger girl, despite her yawns, holds the phone up so the blonde can be included in every second of it, Paige feels herself being pulled into a dream she has no right to dream. She dreams of being in Stephie’s purple bedroom. She dreams of her and Azzi lying against Stephie’s lilac bedspread, their hands entwined in the middle over Stephie’s little body. She dreams of a forever that she’d long forsaken.
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╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper
part 3: the last day of investigation
previous part here
epilogue here
in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town.
tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mentall illness
contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn
words: 9 k....i'm insane, i'm aware
Your dad was the one who managed to explain everything to you.
Once, you hated the coldness he exuded. Everything he said seemed so devoid of emotion, as if he didn't have any at all. Probably, if he had ever tried to say "I love you," those words would have gotten stuck in his throat, causing choking and death.
At that moment, you appreciated it for the first time. He told you how your mom had found Jeremy in the bathtub, the water completely stained with blood. If an outsider had heard it, they would have thought he was talking about some stranger's child, not his own son, so composed he sounded. But you heard all the tiny breaks in his voice, the pauses to swallow saliva that slowly dripped down his throat.
You stood with your back against the door, the phone slipping from your numb hand.
For a moment, you felt simply empty. Without feelings or thoughts. What was this room you were in — the bathroom? A bathroom, what even is that? Syllables joined into a longer sound that should have some specific meaning. What meaning? You didn’t know. A loud ringing filled your ears, driving everything out of your mind.
The phone call had ended. The device was still pressed against your cheek, slipping further and further from your grip. After a while — you couldn’t tell how long — it simply fell to the floor, onto the simple black-and-white tiles. You didn’t even hear the sound it made.
You might have stayed frozen there for hours if not for the soft tapping on the other side of the door. You were only just returning to reality, so you couldn’t respond. Then someone spoke your name in a questioning tone. You ignored that too, though not intentionally. For a moment, you had simply forgotten your own name. This unsettled the person in the next room; after a few seconds, they grasped the handle and pushed the door. It met the barrier of your back, and that gentle jolt was what began to pull you out of your trance.
The first breath hurt; the first thought nearly brought you to your knees.
Jeremy. Your little brother.
Moving as if on autopilot, you turned toward the door and opened it. At first, Spencer seemed to exhale with relief, but then he saw the expression on your face, and his slightly hunched posture straightened, shifting to one of concern.
You’d taken over the bathroom as soon as you returned to the hotel, so he hadn’t had a chance to change. He’d only hung up his jacket by the door, taken off his vest, and remained in his shirt with a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.
“W-what happened? I thought I heard something fall…”
“It was...um...the phone,” you managed to choke out.
“I-I was talking to my dad, my dad, but first with my mom, and…and she was mad at me because of…because of…wait, what did you ask?” The words spilling from you were one big jumble. You pressed a cool hand to your forehead, burning as if with fever, your brain throbbing with effort, as if you were delivering a university lecture on nuclear physics.
Spencer was no longer just concerned — he was terrified. Seeing how you were barely standing on legs that refused to cooperate, he caught you just before you fell. You collapsed face-first onto his shoulder, surrendering entirely to gravity.
“Oh…okay, okay, it’s okay now,” he whispered, resting one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back, offering support.
You closed your eyes, only now realizing they were filled with tears. The shock was fading, the barrier that had held back every other emotion finally breaking down. They began to overwhelm you, resulting in a muffled sob against his body.
“He tried to kill himself,” you finally managed to say, the meaning of the words slowly sinking in. You repeated it several times, each time quieter but with more awareness. “He tried…he tried…”
“No, you don’t have to... just... oh god, I’m so sorry...” He stammered. He realized that no words would be enough, none would help you. Instead of wasting energy on them, he poured it all into the embrace, holding you even tighter.
You simply stayed in that position, as time passed by.
"What's with him?" he asked when your breathing finally returned to a steady rhythm, and the pain wasn't as sharp. His voice was so soft, soothing like a lullaby. "Your brother?"
You realized that, because of your secrecy, you had never even casually mentioned Jeremy to him. This was the first time you were talking about him. Under these circumstances
"Dad said his condition is stable." You raised your head, and your eyes met by accident. You quickly looked back down at your hands. You felt exposed in a way you never had before with anyone else, and it was strange, unfamiliar. But you couldn’t say it was entirely negative. "He’s under observation now; he lost a lot of blood. If my mom hadn’t found him..."
You shook your head, trying to chase away the dark visions and scenarios.
"Spencer," you sighed, struggling to put into words what had been tormenting you from the very beginning. "I... I can’t stop thinking about how much of this is my fault."
"I left him with our parents. Fully aware of what they’re like. I told him he could rely on me but I was in another city, only keeping in touch by phone. Irregulary. Since we started working on this case, I’ve spoken to him once…"
Until now, you hadn’t maintained strong eye contact; each time it happened, you pulled away. But in that moment, there was something in his gaze that wouldn’t let you look away. Reid was definitely not one to offer empty words of comfort or general platitudes. Seeing him remain silent, you were certain he was about to say something entirely his own.
“Blaming yourself is a very common, I’d even say natural, part of grief, and I’m afraid that nothing I say will make you stop feeling this way, but I’ll try anyway. You didn’t abandon Jeremy. Even if there was distance between you, you still tried to be there for him, you cared for him like no one else did. You know, even if you usually avoided talking about it, it was still very clear. Sometimes I’d see you from a distance talking to him on the phone. I couldn’t hear a word, but… I wondered a lot who that person was. The one who makes you so happy” He looked slightly flustered, blushing as he realized what he had mentioned, but continued nonetheless. “You seemed so happy and genuinely invested. I can tell that you didn’t stay in touch with him out of guilt or obligation alone. He truly meant the world to you. And… what I’m trying to say is that… sometimes, no matter how much we try, there are things we just can’t control. This is incredibly hard for you, and you blame yourself for all of it, but I hope that someday you’ll see that not everything depended on you, and none of this is your fault."
You stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. His words… they touched you, pierced your skin, and lodged deeply within your body. They soothed you, like a lullaby sung to a child before sleep. You realized just how incredibly grateful you were that you both shared this room.
"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here," you answered softly, feeling the area around your eyes tighten, signaling the tears that were about to come.
Without hesitation, he simply embraced you.
With his chin resting on the top of your head and your forehead pressed against his collarbone.
"You would manage. You’re strong. But you deserve to have someone by your side in a moment like this."
You whispered that you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He offered you one of the sleeping pills he had mentioned in the car, though it would take a little while for them to take effect. You lay on your side, with your knees curled up. It wasn’t until the morning that you realized you were on his bed, surprised to find yourself so far from the window. That was your first thought, still not fully sober.
The room was drowning in darkness, the only sources of light being the faint glow of the moon sneaking in like a thief through the imperfectly drawn curtain, and the alarm clock on the nightstand between your beds, showing the time as 4:47.
You stretched your sleepy eyelids open and rubbed them with your hand, not moving from your spot. You felt a little embarrassed that you had fallen asleep in Spencer’s bed, but then you noticed his silhouette in yours. It turned out you had simply swapped places. Since it was only your second night in this hotel, it hadn’t yet absorbed his scent. Not that you were looking for it. You were just curious, which is why you pressed your face so firmly into the pillow.
Spencer was lying with his face turned toward you. However, he didn’t seem completely relaxed, almost as if even the sound of dust floating in the air could wake him. This turned out to be a very accurate observation, as the moment you opened your eyes, he did the same.
"Hey, how do you feel?" he asked. His voice was quiet, hoarse.
"I'm too awake to go back to sleep for another week. Unfortunately," you muttered, turning onto your back. Of course, it was sarcasm. You couldn’t sleep for too long, you had to... you weren’t even sure what you had to do. You urgently needed to find out what had happened with Jeremy over the past few hours. Was his condition still stable, or had it improved significantly overnight, or…
The thought of another conversation with your father drained you. Or, worse yet, your mother. They were, however, your only source of information about your unconscious brother.
So yes, you needed to make a call, then get up, pull yourself together, maybe eat something… it all sounded more than overwhelming.
"I'll talk to Hotch, if you want. He’ll let you go back, even today."
The mention of the boss’s name hit you like an ice cube dropped under your shirt. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, you were still at work. In the middle of hunting down a seven-time murderer who had discarded his last two victims just yesterday. A murderer who, from the very beginning, had stirred your intuition, suggesting that the answer to this puzzle lay somewhere at the back of your mind.
On the other hand, you felt obligated to be by Jeremy’s side when he woke up. Who else would be there for him? A nurse? An emotionally absent father? An unstable, bipolar mother who had probably stopped taking her meds again?
As if against your own will, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, a certain thought suddenly entering your mind.
"I'll stay," you decided.
"Are you sure? If you don't want to talk about it with the others, I’ll do it for you," he offered, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was a mess, eyes gleaming with worry. "You know Hotch, he may not seem like it, but he's very understanding..."
"Really, I can handle it," you reassured him, but he didn’t seem convinced. "Reid, I need to finish this case. I think I’ve realized something."
He sat on the bed, furrowing his brow. The sudden change in the tone of your voice must have intrigued him; you sounded almost determined.
"What is it?"
You opened your mouth, ready to rush out a chaotic response, but stopped yourself at the last moment. It was so early in the morning, and your mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders — how could it be, when you’d only just woken up? It made more sense to wait, to go over the latest findings with the team; maybe they would fit perfectly with your newest theory.
And that’s exactly what happened.
“The victims found on the pumpkin farm have been identified,” Hotch announced instead of a greeting when you met just an hour and a half later. Everyone looked slightly dazed; the coffee they were sipping hadn’t yet kicked in. Likely, only you and Reid had been up this early—physically, you seemed the most alert, yet it was plain to see that your thoughts were still rooted in the previous day, struggling to keep up with everything happening around you. You sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, entirely on instinct, as if an invisible thread connected you, tightening painfully around your wrists whenever you tried to drift too far apart.
From time to time, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see if you were okay. Twice, he gave a slight nod in Hotch’s direction, reminding you that you could still talk to him, ask for permission to go back home. You silently reassured him that you were feeling relatively fine and didn’t want to bring it up with the boss. Just as you broke eye contact, ending the wordless conversation, you noticed Morgan and Prentiss watching the two of you, their heads tilted at the same angle in an almost eerily synchronized way.
You took a breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. Your sudden closeness with Reid must have seemed at the very least… suspicious to them.
“Their names were Denise Grant and Alexa Miller, and listen to this,” Garcia began, her voice quickening as her face appeared on the laptop screen. “Both of them worked at the same orphanage. And what's more — it's the very same orphanage where one of the earlier victims worked.”
The atmosphere thickened as everyone absorbed the significance of the information.
"What are the chances this could be a coincidence?" JJ asked rhetorically.
"Well..." Reid began. His friend raised an eyebrow. "I get it, no large numbers. But small ones. Smaller than the chance that the asteroid..."
"Were the remaining body parts of these women found?" Rossi asked matter-of-factly.
Hotch shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. The forest is so heavily guarded by the police that it's unlikely the unsub managed to dump them there."
"But he has to be doing something with them," Prentiss said, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Doesn't it make you wonder where he's committing all these crimes? He gets rid of the bodies quickly, and there were no signs on the victims suggesting they were held captive. Do you think he could be killing them in his own house?"
"That's possible," Morgan replied. "He wouldn't be the first. And unfortunately, he won't be the last."
"If that's the case, they're going to start smelling awful soon. He'll have to get rid of them, and with so much police presence around, it won't be that easy."
"Let's hope he makes a mistake in the process," Hotch summarized, scanning your faces carefully. Finally, his gaze landed on yours. "You’ll go to the orphanage with..." He swept his eyes over everyone around you, finally settling on Derek. Reid, sitting next to you, shifted uncomfortably.
"I'll go with her," he offered a bit too abruptly.
This shifted the focus of everyone’s attention onto you. You tried to act as if it didn’t matter who would go with you, but deep down, you were hoping it would be him.
You stared at your boss, waiting for his decision. Finally, he nodded and began assigning other tasks to the rest of the team. You couldn't help but smile, barely perceptibly, feeling grateful to Spencer.
It wasn’t that you minded the company of the others; it was simply that none of them had any idea what had happened the day before. They might ask questions about your more withdrawn-than-usual behavior or your subdued mood, and you didn’t want to talk about what had happened with your brother. You knew that with Reid, you would feel the most comfortable.
For a while, you continued discussing the farm workers, who turned out to be employed without contracts, and of course the owner who was hiring them off the books. But with each new statement from your colleagues, you became more and more detached. Your thoughts kept drifting to Jeremy and his behavior over the past few weeks. He had seemed down during your conversations, but you had chalked it up to just the usual busy period at school. On top of that, there was the family situation. Living alone, you'd almost forgotten what a typical day with your mother used to look like. You started to berate yourself, feeling guilty for not being more concerned about his state.
Eventually, everyone dispersed, ready to get back to their tasks.
You went to the car alone, as Reid had been stopped by Derek, who had asked him something with an unreadable expression. His eyebrow had raised suggestively, and you could have sworn you saw it even from several meters away. You stared at the two of them, leaning against the open passenger-side door, intrigued about what the conversation might be about. Normally, you weren’t the curious type; you didn’t like it when people asked you too many questions, and you avoided prying into others’ affairs. But this time, you couldn’t take your eyes off Spencer’s face, clearly embarrassed—maybe even… blushing?
Derek laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back before walking away. Your companion sat in the driver's seat without a word, avoiding your gaze.
"Where is the orphanage?" he asked.
You turned toward him, brow furrowed.
"You remembered the whole map," you reminded him.
"Oh, right..."
You fell silent for several minutes, but your curiosity grew so much that you thought you might not be able to hold it in any longer.
"What were you two talking about? With Morgan?"
"Oh... just some stuff," he replied evasively, overly focused on the road. As if you were in the middle of a busy city during rush hour, rather than on a nearly empty road in the morning.
"You know Morgan and his... sense of humor."
"Yes, I know. Did he tell some great joke?"
"Not really."
"Go ahead. I'm curious."
"I’m telling you, nothing worth repeating... Besides, I've already forgotten it myself..."
"Reid, for God's sake, you literally have a photographic memory...!"
"Okay, fine!" he finally blurted out, removing one hand from the steering wheel and raising it in a defensive gesture. His voice went up a quarter of an octave. He then took a deep breath and put on a seemingly calm expression. "Morgan wanted to know if our... well, unusual... peculiar... definitely different from the previous days... behavior means that..."
"That what?" you asked encouragingly.
"That we slept with each other”
You blinked in slow motion, too shocked to respond. Spencer couldn't resist glancing at you, trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, you sat frozen, then you burst into laughter.
"And what did you tell him?"
"What did I tell him?" he repeated in disbelief. "The truth, what else was I supposed to say?"
You realized how stupid your question was.
"Anyway, even if it were true... you know, that we... slept together... I wouldn't have mentioned it to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong” He quickly added the last part.“It's not that I’d be ashamed to admit it or... anything like that, I just would’ve preferred to sort it out with you first..."
You watched his growing embarrassment and... simply smiled.
"Sorry," you explained your reaction, letting out a slight chuckle. "I just thought... Well nevermind. Or…Fine, I was thinking about how strangely Emily was looking at me and how Derek probably wasn’t the only one who came to that conclusion. Look, we share a room with each other for the very first time and then suddenly we become so close... and then there's the fact that you asked to come with me..."
"That's because I wanted... I wanted to keep an eye on you after what happened yesterday."
"I understand that, and... I’m incredibly grateful to you for it. Really, Spence. But to others, it might look really suspicious."
He paused for a moment, thinking about your words. Ahead of you, the orphanage building came into view. Made of a mix of red and cream bricks, it resembled a small private school. Behind the fence, there was a small playground with a pink slide, its surface now covered in brown leaves.
"Wait," Reid asked with a slightly hoarse voice as you were about to get out of the car. "Does this mean that... you’d prefer we saw each other less?"
You were momentarily speechless.
"What? Of course not. Let them think what they want. Especially those two…lacherours, Morgan and Prentiss. It doesn’t change anything between us."
The air hit your face in waves, occasionally accompanied by a stray raindrop, but overall, the weather that day wasn’t terrible.
You made your way to the orphanage doors, trying to adopt serious, professional expressions fitting for your line of work. However, you couldn’t help but let those fleeting, secret smiles slip through. You felt a tight knot in your stomach loosen.
But back to business, no staff member at the orphanage wants to see two FBI agents on their doorstep at eight in the morning. Well, no one wants to see FBI agents on their doorstep. Regardless of the time. The woman who opened the door greeted you with a slight look of confusion. She was shorter than both of you, with thick blonde hair, wearing a fluffy lavender sweater. At first glance, she seemed friendly, but… incredibly downhearted.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, clearly forcing a smile.
You looked at Reid and took a small breath, holding back a sigh. It dawned on both of you that… she probably didn’t know yet that the heads found on the farm belonged to her two coworkers.
Everyone in the town knew about the discovery, that was beyond doubt. The fact that these two women hadn’t shown up for work in several days should have made her realize it. But sometimes, as people, we prefer to deceive ourselves right until the very end.
You hated informing people that their loved ones had died, especially in such a horrific way. However, you knew you had to do what was required of you, reaching into your pocket for your badge.
"We're from the FBI," you said after introducing yourselves, trying to keep a gentle expression to spare some nerves for the already frightened woman. "Do you work here? We’d like to have a word with all the staff and the director."
The woman took a deep, nervous breath.
“Yes, I work here. Florence Terry. I’m… I’m a psychologist.”
She opened the door wider, letting you both inside. You quickly glanced around, immediately noticing how well-kept the place was. In your line of work, you’d surprisingly often found yourself visiting orphanages, and many — even in larger cities — were in far worse condition. In the spacious hallway stood a staircase made of light wood, leading to the upper floors. On one of the steps, someone had placed a teddy bear so that it looked like it was gazing down.
“Do you think it’s afraid of heights?” you whispered to Reid, careful that the psychologist couldn’t hear.
“I think it’s an inanimate object and therefore incapable of having fears,” he whispered back, leaning slightly toward you.
“I think you’re —”
“We’re just having breakfast,” Florence interrupted, leading you into the dining room, where a long table stood at the center. At the sight of you both, the adults seated there — likely other caregivers — put their utensils aside. There weren’t that many kids here; they could almost pass for an unusually large family, if not for the fact that nearly all of them were around the same age. There were no little ones — you noticed mostly teenagers. One boy spilled his tea on the table and wiped it up with his sleeve, his black bangs brushing against the glasses perched on his narrow nose. You weren’t sure if it was his appearance or his mannerisms, but he immediately reminded you of Jeremy.
Reid immediately noticed you staring. Of course he did. You gave a slight smile, reassuring him that everything was fine.
Your arrival didn’t cause much of a stir; most of the children didn’t even look up. It probably would have been different if they knew you were from the FBI. The expression on the psychologist's face, however, alarmed the adults. They exchanged tense glances, but tried to maintain appearances in front of the children.
The woman with the tight black ponytail stood up, introducing herself as the director.
“We can talk in my office,” she offered, shaking your hand.
“We’d like to speak with all the staff,” Reid informed her.
“Oh, of course. Then please, follow me…”
She led you to a small room on the ground floor, with the word "DIRECTOR" written on the door in colorful crayons. Three more people followed you, including the psychologist.
"Not everyone is here today," the director noted. "Some employees simply work different hours, while others..."
"That’s something we wanted to discuss," you said slowly.
The women and one man exchanged glances. They knew.
"Is… is this about Denise and Alexa?" Florence dared to ask.
To their horror, you had to confirm it. It was incredibly difficult to watch someone take in the news of not only the death of colleagues, but likely close friends as well. You lowered your gaze, staring at your shoes, giving them a moment before they were ready to continue with the questioning. Together with Reid, you had to ask them countless questions, probing to understand why these particular orphanage employees had become the killer’s victims. Or perhaps, whether they remembered any former resident who had long since left but whose behavior had raised suspicions. There was a strong likelihood that the unsub had come from there.
But before you began the questioning, the doorbell rang.
"That’s probably the volunteer. A teenager from town who comes by to help from time to time, sometimes she brings friends along," the director explained, her trembling hands pressed against her chest. "Their help has been especially valuable these past few days since… since Denise and Alexa… disappeared."
"I’ll let them in," you offered, glancing at Reid. It would be worth asking these teenagers a few questions as well.
He nodded, and you headed toward the entrance of the building. One girl pulled back quickly into the dining hall at the sight of you; she must have been eavesdropping. At first, you felt like smiling, but then sadness took over. These kids didn’t know yet about the death of their caretakers. How would the staff tell them? How would they react?
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
“Oh, hi,” she greeted you, equally surprised. She wore the same white jacket you’d seen her in yesterday, with a colorful scarf covering half her face, her pale cheeks flushed from the cold. You glanced toward the parking lot, where the sheriff's car was just pulling away beside yours. He must have dropped off his daughter before heading straight back to his duties. The town needed him more than ever. “Dad told me who those women were… the ones I found yesterday. Is that why you’re here?”
You confirmed, lips pressed tightly together. She stepped inside, unzipping her jacket.
"My partner is talking with the staff right now," you said, stopping with her by the stairs, not wanting the children in the dining hall to overhear. "I had no idea you volunteered here. That’s really, really kind of you. How long have you been doing this?"
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Just a few months," she replied, but there was something incomplete in her tone. As if she wanted to say more but held back. You replayed your conversation from the day before in your mind, analyzing it moment by moment, trying to deduce what might be behind her behavior.
"My dad, surprisingly, isn’t too thrilled about it. I live on the other side of town, so he has to drive me here, and he also says I should be studying instead…” She lowered her voice to an embarrassed whisper. “…wandering around with the poor."
You were taken aback, even outraged, by the sheriff’s behavior. As a parent, he should be proud that his daughter took the initiative to get involved in charity work! Yet, as you looked at the girl, who was avoiding your gaze, you felt there was something she wasn’t telling you.
“I’m glad that despite his… forgive me for saying it, but rudeness, you’re still determined to help here,” you said, choosing your words carefully. Charlotte gave a shy smile at the compliment. “Out of curiosity, was it your idea? Or maybe your friends’, and you just got… drawn into it?”
The girl hesitated before finally sighing in surrender.
"My boyfriend grew up here," she admitted. "He told me a bit about this place, and… hearing his stories, I felt a need to help these kids. I started coming here, tutoring them, playing with them, teaching them to draw. You know, typical volunteer stuff."
Her answer didn’t surprise you much. Since she’d mentioned her boyfriend yesterday—describing him as someone who opposed rules and was the complete opposite of her father—you’d subconsciously known this topic would come up again. You didn’t hide the fact that the way she described him had raised concerns, making you question whether he was truly a good match for such a sensitive young girl.
"Does he know about this? Does he come help with you?"
"N-no. He doesn't have the best memories of this place... but he's really happy that I decided to do this."
You didn’t want to turn the conversation into an interrogation, but you felt you needed to ask these questions to get the full picture.
“How long ago did he leave the orphanage?”
Charlotte seemed increasingly tense during the conversation, glancing around as if expecting someone to come and rescue her. You couldn’t help but cross your arms over your chest, a gesture that may have seemed threatening or stern. Quickly realizing that you’d frightened her, you softened your posture, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.
You were almost certain that this was a similar case. Charlotte was only sixteen, struggling with the death of her mother, a sensitive soul with an incredibly strict father—who also happened to be a cop. An older boyfriend might have given her a sense of escape from the heavy hand of her father’s authority, a feeling of freedom.
"Sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to be so intrusive. Just a professional habit," you joked. She smiled faintly, still clearly on edge.
The way she spoke about him—the hint of fear, her earlier request for you not to mention him to her father, and her avoidance of answering how long ago he left the orphanage—made you start to seriously suspect that he was older than her. It wasn’t unusual for teenage girls to seek out older partners, and in most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing... but sometimes, those older partners turned out to be much older men. Manipulators.
Before you could say anything more, Reid appeared in the doorway of the office, casting a curious glance between you and the girl, whom he surely remembered from yesterday.
"Uh...Can I have a word with you?" he called you. Charlotte greeted him so quietly that he probably didn’t even hear it. "I think I’ve found something interesting."
"Oh, sure," you replied, remembering you shouldn’t leave him alone with the work for too long. Before leaving, you smiled at the sheriff’s daughter. The topic of her and her boyfriend was still nagging at you. "I’d like to talk to you later, okay? Either after we finish talking to the staff, or... you have my number, right?"
The girl nodded, murmuring a quick goodbye before disappearing into the dining hall, where a child squealed with delight at the sight of her.
"Did you find anything out?" you asked Reid. He had been watching the girl with obvious interest, which was piqued by your almost agitated stance. However, you didn’t have time to explain everything to him yet; you needed to get back to the main investigation.
You both returned to the office. The staff were standing in the same spots, looking as if they hadn’t moved an inch since you left.
"I asked a few questions that might help us figure out why the unsub chose three people who worked at this particular orphanage," he began. You noticed he was starting to speak faster, which meant a breakthrough had occurred, at least in his reasoning. You watched him, holding your breath. "And I found out that none of the people here have worked here for more than eight years. Just like the victims."
You furrowed your brow, not sure what that meant. The director quickly offered an explanation.
"Eight years ago, there was a huge scandal involving this orphanage," she explained, swallowing hard. "It came to light that the caretakers and the director at the time were abusing the children. Seriously abusing them. What’s worse, the case was reported multiple times, but no one in the town’s leadership did anything about it. The mayor stayed silent... They say he was afraid to do anything, so as not to lose the funding the orphanage was receiving. It wasn’t until eight years ago that the truth finally came out, the staff was convicted, and they were replaced by us."
"The town’s leadership didn’t react," you repeated her words, your mind working at full speed. "The earlier victims were part of the town’s leadership. This is the connection we’ve been looking for, Reid. The unsub must have been a victim of abuse right here in this orphanage."
"We need to tell the others," Reid decided. You both headed toward the exit, and then you remembered that you hadn’t even said goodbye to the orphanage staff.
"Thank you for your help, these are really useful pieces of information..." you said quickly as you passed them.
In the car, everything felt like it was spinning.
"Look, the unsub isn’t directly killing the people who abused him. If that were the case, the old staff would be the ones dying, not the current one. Remember, one of his victims was a teacher, completely unrelated to the orphanage. I think it’s not about punishing those people, but more about a symbolic revenge, one that doesn’t have to be logical. It doesn’t have to make sense to us, but it seems logical to him," Reid shared his thoughts as you drove toward the police station, where you expected to find the rest of your team. "He’s struggling with trauma. He’s been managing it somehow over the years, but now he’s unable to control the rage building up inside him. Decapitation is another symbol. It strips these people of the power they once had over him when he was a child or a teenager, and no one listened to his cries for help."
You straightened up in your seat, all the information starting to fall into place.
"Do you remember this morning when I mentioned that something came to my mind? That’s why I didn’t want to leave?" you asked. "At first, we were puzzled that some of the victims were treated with a different level of cruelty, specifically the women. Others, the ones from the city council, only had their heads cut off, with no other injuries. The unsub believes these innocent people are directly responsible for hurting him, he’s delusional. Sometimes he blames the city authorities for not reacting. The anger he feels toward them isn’t as intense as for the orphanage staff, which is why he harms them to a lesser extent. I think... he’s experiencing manic episodes, where all his feelings and paranoia are stronger. That’s when he kills with much greater cruelty."
“Mania?” Reid repeated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You mean borderline?” You nodded. For a moment, he thought over your words, then his eyes lit up. “That... that’s very possible. There have been cases where borderline murderers nearly changed their modus operandi. During a manic episode, when someone with borderline personality disorder experiences heightened energy, a sense of grandeur, and excessive impulsivity, they may act more aggressively, brutally, and ruthlessly. In a depressive episode, on the other hand, the person may act more coldly, with calculated precision, focusing on their goal without emotional outbursts, but carrying a heavy load of negative emotions. It all fits.”
You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar rush that came whenever you were close to solving a case. Your heart raced, and warmth crept over your neck, like a fever. You and Reid burst into the station, practically supporting each other like two converging whirlwinds, nearly colliding with Hotch in the process. He was initially startled, then his eyes narrowed as he took in both your faces, his expression becoming more focused as you explained everything.
For a moment, he was silent.
“Let’s call Garcia,” he finally said. “Have her find all the men who lived in that orphanage eight years ago.”
You took a deep breath. This was really happening. You were so close to catching the killer...
After filling Garcia in on everything you knew, she immediately set to work compiling a list of men who might fit the profile. Meanwhile, you and Reid headed to the coffee and snack machine. You bought yourself a drink and a chocolate bar, feeling the rush of adrenaline start to subside.
Taking advantage of the brief moment of calm, you checked your phone for any missed calls.
“Neither my mother nor my father called,” you said, slipping the phone back into your pocket. Sharing personal details with anyone on the team still felt strange—especially when it came to your family. You wondered if it would ever feel normal. You noticed Spencer giving you a concerned look. “It’s a good thing,” you added quickly. “It means Jeremy’s condition is stable. Or maybe even improving. If it were bad, I’d have twenty missed calls from my mom—and one from my dad.”
You tried to turn that last line into a joke, but it came out sounding more bleak than funny.
“I hope everything will be okay with him,” Reid said, as his cup filled with coffee from the machine. He reached for it, his gaze fixed on you. “You remember that you can come to me if things get tough, right?”
“I try not to forget,” you admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. “But it’s not something I’m used to.”
For a moment, he looked at you silently, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes seemed so gentle and understanding that it was hard for you to look away.
"Hey, lovers!"
Spencer jumped and cursed as coffee spilled onto his hand. Startled, you both turned to see Morgan grinning at you with a playful smile.
"Come over here for a sec."
You felt the urge to cover your face at the sight of the entire team, who had all heard what he'd called you.
Some unknown force held you back from nudging Emily when she shot you an amused sidelong glance. But soon, your focus shifted to Garcia's face on the laptop screen, ready to share her findings.
"Tell us what you found, babygirl."
"So, I managed to pull up quite a long list of former orphanage residents. Surprisingly long, for such a small town. Hotch helped narrow it down a bit… I found twelve men who would now be between twenty and forty years old. Five of them still live in town, but one of them caught my eye. Well, actually, his story did. He was placed in the orphanage at ten years old after his mother, struggling with bipolar disorder, attempted suicide."
You already knew it was him.
"His name is Logan Osborne, currently twenty-four years old. He has one minor offense on record for selling weed, oddly enough, in another town. Here’s where it gets interesting—though not in a good way. His mother actually survived but passed away less than two years ago, and he inherited her house and apparently moved back into it."
"Returning to the town where he was abused must have been the trigger that pushed him to murder," said Reid.
"That would fit with my theory about bipolar personality disorder," you summarized. "Genetics alone doesn’t determine the disorder, but the fact is that in families with cases of this disorder, the likelihood of it appearing in other individuals is higher."
At one point, you had read a lot about it due to your own mother. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reid looked at you intently, surely noticing the sudden shift in the tone of your voice. God, he must have been that observant?
"What's the address of his house?" Hotch asked.
You waited in readiness as Garcia provided the information. Once she did, you all gathered and headed out.
*
If you had found him there, everything would have been so simple. Almost too simple.
But there was no sign of Logan Osborne at the house, nor any indication that it was inhabited by a serial killer who decapitated his victims. Instead of immediately securing the building, Hotch ordered a stakeout. Inside, several agents, including Morgan and Prentiss, waited for the moment he might show up.
The rest of the team had no tasks assigned. You waited at the precinct, hoping something would happen. Meanwhile, Garcia sifted through thousands of bits of information about the man. Some were more important than others, but unfortunately, it only seemed to fuel a growing sense of dread among you all.
Since inheriting his mother’s house, he hadn’t paid taxes or most of his bills. He didn’t have a steady job, though he picked up odd jobs here and there. You checked with the local police, but most didn’t recognize his name. One officer who did recall him said he didn’t have the best relations with the authorities. With anyone, really.
"A little anarchist, huh?" Rossi muttered.
You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket. Reaching for it, you saw a message from an unknown number.
hey it’s charlotte. you said we could meet and talk when i needed to please can we meet? i can’t handle what i saw on the farm yesterday and my dad isn’t helping with his behavior either
A few hours had already passed since the ambush was set, and still nothing had happened, though the darkness outside was settling in.
“Would it be alright if I disappear for a quarter?” you asked. “I promised something to the sheriff’s daughter, and it looks like I’ll need to meet with her.”
You didn’t receive any opposition. If anything happened, you would be immediately informed by phone. Reid offered to go with you, but Hotch needed him for something. You wouldn’t have minded his company—on the contrary, you would have been glad for it—but on the other hand, Charlotte might not feel too comfortable with it. After all, she had arranged to meet only with you.
As you drove toward her house, you spent a lot of time reflecting on your earlier conversation. It was the first time you really had the chance to think about it seriously. Her mysterious boyfriend, whom she had been so reluctant to talk about and with whom there was probably an age gap. And who also grew up in that orphanage...
You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you earlier. Maybe because of how well-behaved Charlotte seemed? Her big, bright eyes full of kindness. She herself seemed like the perfect teenager—sensitive and eager to help. Plus, she was the sheriff's daughter. For God's sake, you were about to go to the house of another cop.
You only realized how foolish you had been when, as soon as you stepped out of the car, something hit you in the back of the head.
*
You were woken up by nothing but the pain in the back of your head.
You opened your eyes, struggling to hold back a groan. Everything around you was blurry, as if you had a terrible vision problem and were forced to go somewhere without your glasses. The image, however, began to sharpen with each passing second, causing your heart to beat faster.
You were in…
It was hard to say what kind of place this was. Incredibly dark, the only weak light source was somewhere behind your back. It was possible it was a battery-powered lamp. You couldn’t confirm your suspicions, however… because you couldn’t move. You realized this with horror.
You were tied to the chair with rope. It wrapped tightly around your body, making it hard to breathe and pressing painfully on your ribs. Some of them might even be broken.
Wherever you were, the whole situation looked far from promising. Fragments of memories swirled around your head, randomly flying into your mind and helping you recall what had actually happened.
Of course, working for the FBI, you knew how to behave in the event of a kidnapping. The most important rule was: don’t panic. The problem was, it was damn hard to follow that.
Inhale, exhale, something jabbed at your ribs. You couldn’t stop another soft groan from escaping.
As if drawn by the sound, a young man appeared in your line of sight.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?” he asked, leaning over you as if you were an infant. After a second, he straightened up, the smile completely replaced by a serious expression. “I don’t like killing people when they’re asleep.”
Garcia had sent you his pictures, and even with the poor lighting, you were able to recognize your unsub in them.
"Logan Osborne?"
"I see you've done your homework."
"Where’s Charlotte?" you asked, a sudden rush of panic flooding through you. Maybe she was behind you, somewhere you couldn’t see? Was she involved in your abduction? After all, it was her who sent the message...
"You think I know where she is every moment of every day?" he sneered, suddenly angry. The room was small, but to your left, there was a rotting bench with metal objects arranged on it. You had to turn your head sharply to confirm your worst suspicion. Knives.
It was getting harder and harder not to panic.
"Knowing her, she's probably painting. My work on the farm really inspired her."
There was a sound. Like a drop falling from the ceiling.
"Where are we?" you asked.
"None of your business."
"Is this a bunker?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"What difference does it make if I find out? I'm tied up," you shrugged meaningfully, emphasizing your position. This caused a wave of pain to course through your chest.
For a moment, there was silence. The man was wandering around the surroundings, and all you could do was watch as he wiped each blade on his flannel shirt. The bile began to rise in your throat with every move he made. Pessimistic thoughts started flooding your mind, so tragic that you barely managed to hold back the tears.
First, everyone on your team thought you went to meet Charlotte. Meaning, it would likely be your prolonged absence that would eventually seem suspicious.
Second, you were in such a mysterious place that everything pointed to the fact that no one would find you, even by accident. Well, alive.
You knew you couldn’t give up, even though there was little you could do in such a situation. The only real solution in such a hopeless scenario was… convincing him to let you go. A scenario that was damn unlikely, but since death was already threatening you, why not give it a try?
"Logan," you said, your voice trembling. In your mind, you replayed his profile, reminding yourself of facts that could give you an edge in your conversation with him. "Killing me won't help you. It's not me you want to hurt, it's those who hurt you in the orphanage. And those who didn’t react."
"Fine, it’s a bunker," he replied, as if he hadn’t even heard most of what you said. "Back in the Cold War, people built them by the dozen. They didn’t even inform the authorities. We found this one once with the kids from the orphanage, and we didn’t tell anyone, you know what that means, agent?"
You were painfully aware of it.
"Logan," you tried again. "My people know you killed those people. They'll find you the moment you step out into the open. Killing me won’t change anything..."
"Not killing me won’t either."
"They’ll look at you more favorably..."
"Favorably?" he exploded in a manic laugh, suddenly right in front of you. You flinched at the sight of his crazed face so close to yours. "They’ll look favorably on a seven-time murderer? Are you joking? Since I’m already screwed, I might as well cut off your head too..."
Fuck the fake calm, you were terrified.
You trembled, the pain in your ribs intensified, and the first tears began to fall from your eyes. You thought about how you’d never see Jeremy again. How he’d wake up and your death would probably be one of the first things he’d find out. What would he do then? God, your team would think you were an idiot. Of course, no one would say it out loud, but that’s what you were. You got yourself into this situation. Under these circumstances, they shouldn’t even particularly mourn, though they probably would, just a little.
Spencer would probably grieve a little more than the others. Those two nights in one room had brought you closer, you couldn’t deny that. Before, you had thought of him as just a regular coworker, the genius boy, sometimes amusing in his awkwardness. The way he supported you at the worst possible moment made you realize just how valuable he was.
Wherever you end up after death, you’ll miss him.
You didn’t know what motivated you to speak up again. Was it the thought of Jeremy and Spencer, or perhaps the sound of Logan sharpening some kind of weapon, probably an ax?
“Please," you pleaded simply, no longer knowing what else might reach him.
"Don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry. Charlotte does it all the time."
"Charlotte," you repeated. "Did she... know?"
You wanted to know if the girl you had tried so hard to help had played an active role in your murder.
"Of course not," he sneered. "She didn’t help me with anything, if that’s what you’re asking. But she told me about you, the nice FBI agent who snoops around a lot. She thought I was just some rebellious guy, attractive to a teenager like her. You know, with a tough cop dad. I won't lie, it turned me on, sleeping with the sheriff's daughter, knowing I was being hunted by him. And not just by him. Even by the damn FBI."
He seemed proud of himself. Maybe that’s what you should do? Appeal to his ego?
"You were really a tough case," you said, pretending to be impressed. "Seriously. Hours spent analyzing, we sat in silence, none of my colleagues knew what to say..."
“Spare me, I see what you're doing. You're trying to manipulate me... because... you feel superior." After saying those words, a sudden fury ignited in him. He knocked over the rotting table, the knives on it scattering to the floor. You took a breath, clenching your fists tightly in pure panic. "Just like they did. They thought they could hurt little kids, abuse them... because their position allowed it. After all, they were older, their word against a child's word. They say children have too vivid an imagination, have you ever heard that?!”
You closed your eyes, he was screaming it right in your face.
"No, Logan, that's not true... they were monsters, but I would have helped you if I... if I could."
"Then why didn't you?!"
"I... I... I..." Tears tore through you, and you got lost in your own words.
Logan opened his mouth again, but suddenly fell silent. His earlier screams were completely drowned out by a sound from above. You stiffened, recognizing it. Footsteps.
"They're here," you whispered, like a prayer. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.
The man, jaw clenched, stared at the entrance to the bunker. He suppressed a scream of rage, turned around, and grabbed his head, not knowing what to do. But suddenly, he bent down to pick something up from the floor, one of the knives he had knocked over when he flipped the table.
"W-what are you doing?" you asked. Something urged you to struggle, even though you knew it was pointless, the ropes were too tight. "What are you doing?!"
The footsteps mixed with voices, even a shout, and the room was soon flooded with a tsunami of daylight.
"Since they’ve got me anyway, I might as well slit your throat..."
You couldn’t stop the scream as he approached you with the knife. A firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you from squirming. The cold metal on your neck, grazing the thin skin.
And then a shot.
NOTE:
I HATE THE ENDING THE READER IS SO STUPID....!
but in my defence i got kind of lost in my plans and i had to change many things in the last moment
but i want to say that im very grateful for reading 2 previos parts and all the notes under<3 i didn't expect so many likes and comments
epilogue for this story will be posted tomorrow!
taglist: @nightfullofparadox @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx
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Partners in Death...and Life
After The Glimpse
|Masterlist| Ao3|
“You were taking too long,” you say, plain and simple. As if that would answer all his questions. Those eyes of yours land on his knuckles. There’s no reason to hide them from you, especially when you’re looking at him with that sad, sad, expression he painted across your face. It’s in the way your lips wobble, and it’s in the way your eyebrows furrowed together. “I would never leave you.” You press your cheek into his palm, nuzzling into it even as blood transfers to your skin. “Nothing will keep me from following after you.” Alastor swipes his thumb across your face. “Even to the depths of hell?” “Even past that, my dear.”
Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor , being a simp for your partner, Asexual! Alastor, husband! Alastor. human! Alastor
THIS CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE Please read this. I'm begging you, but no pressure!
WELL, WELL, WELL. Here we are again. I'm doing three to four bonus chapters. If you want to be tagged, just tell me lol. I didn't think I would be adding a bonus chapter for this fic, but oh well, here we are again. I've missed you guys and I've missed writing my favorite married couple. This is also a special thank you to my friends from VoxTec (Yes, we're friends. I claim you as my friends.) I would have been done with my this fandom if it wasn't for them. Say thank you to them because I've been writing because of them
|Part 9: The Vows That Bind Me [Finale]| |Part 11: Before The Last [Bonus]|
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Alastor needs better car seats.
It’s official – your ass is numb from sitting too long. It spread down your thighs, and straight into your bones. A walk would certainly fix this problem, but you’ve already taken five in the past hour.
Maybe, this wouldn’t be an issue if Alastor invested in comfortable seats. All that money from being a celebrity, and yet, he drives a shit car!
You lean your head on the window, subtly stretching your legs to increase blood flow.
Moonlight illuminates the area around, painting shadows in the shape of trees. It’s the only source of light for miles because of course, it is. The trees howl from the force of the wind, and the shadows dance against the car window.
Well . . . that totally does not bring a chill up your spine. There’s totally no reason to shrink deeper into the shitty car seats. Really, it’s not creepy – not one bit.
“Tired already?” Alastor peeks out an eye. He’s settled on the seat, hands folded across his stomach. “It would bring me great joy to say, ‘I told you so’ because I did tell you, dearest, these things take time.”
Something hoots from the forest, and you’ve had enough.
You lean away from the window, and straight into Alastor’s side. It’s funny, really, how the simple brush of his clothes, and maybe, just maybe, the darkness outside doesn’t seem as frightening as before.
“I haven’t said anything yet, but I didn’t think it would take this long,” you say, mumbling into him, and pull your legs up the seat to curl closer. “I told you I wasn’t going to complain. So, I won’t.”
Alastor pushes your knees, forcing your feet off the car seats.
You laugh into his chest, and settle deeper into him, with your feet staying where it should be—off his shitty car seat.
Alastor wraps an arm around you, tracing circles on your arm with a slight chuckle. The tips of his finger go round and round and round. It pulls you into the lull – eyes blinking to stay awake. A small tune escapes him, and the vibration of his chest forces your eyes to shut.
“I won’t make you wait too long,” Alastor says into your hair. “The drugs will wear off soon, remember. I’ll make quick work of him, and we can go home together.”
A small hum. “Is that a promi— ”
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Panicked roars of anger bounce against the small space of the trunk, startling you out of Alastor’s arms.
Fists bang into the trunk over and over and over and over again, but the thick metal muffles his desperate attempts to escape. How curious of him to try and fight back. Does he not know how much energy he’s wasting?
“Now, now, you should be resting.” Alastor pulls on your arm, crashing you back into him. “Give it a few minutes. He’ll calm down, eventually. Panicked animals are such a bother to deal with.”
“Al . . .,” you mumble as you settle back into his arms, and grip part of his shirt into your fist. “Is it always this loud?”
“Sometimes.” Alastor resumes tracing your arm. “It doesn’t happen often enough for it to become a problem for me.”
The pull of home calls out, tempting you with the soft allure of warmth and peace . . . but . . . but, all the warmth and peace you could ever need is right here, next to you, tracing circles into your arm with a small smile. You’re already home.
If Alastor continues to lull you to sleep, maybe you wouldn’t mind living inside this car with him, and only him, despite the shitty seats – regardless of the shitty seats, actually.
Like all things, that frightened panic ends, and so does Alastor’s tracing.
Alastor peels you off his chest, and grips your shoulders. Eyes stare right into your own. It commands your gaze. “This is important, dearest. Stay in the car, and whatever may happen—you are not to follow me.” His grip tightens. “If I take too long, I need you to leave me.”
“That . . . that wasn’t our deal, Alastor,” you say, frowning. Something settles in your stomach. You don’t like this—not one bit. “We agreed I would be there to watch.”
“Now, now, stubbornness will get you nowhere.” Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “I allowed you to watch from the car— you watched as I drugged him, and watched as I stuffed him in the trunk. Be good, and promise me you will stay here.”
“Deare—”
Alastor places a finger on your lips, shushing you. That smile on his face makes you want to scowl. The absolute audacity!
“I’m not above putting my own wife inside a trunk,” he says, and flicks your nose. “It’s dark outside, and if I accidentally shoot you . . . well, it would be quite bothersome to have to bury you as well. Think about what the papers would say when you go missing!”
You slap his hand away. “Radio Star so Incompetent His Wife Leaves Him.”
“Hilarious.” Alastor rolls his eyes, showing off how he does so.
“I’ll stay up in the trees.” You play with the tips of his fingers. “Surely, your aim isn’t that horrid.”
“I’ll be running around and moving all over the place. You’re not familiar with this part of the forest.” Alasto presses a kiss on the edge of your lips. “I’ll return to you, but you need to stay here. Leave if you have to.”
One, single nod. It’s the only response you’re able to give.
Denying Alastor will never be an ability available to you, not when he’s looking at you with eyes that are oh, so soft.
Alastor tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and steals one last kiss. “I won’t make you wait too long. That’s my promise to you.”
The car door opens with a click, and it’s not the icy air that chills your spine.
You . . . you don’t want him to go. It’s weird, actually. Why do you find yourself grabbing his hand? It stops Alastor before he can take a single step out of the car.
“Or, you can kill him right here. Shoot or slice him or whatever.” You squeeze his hand. There’s a nagging voice that tells you to keep him in your sight. “Just . . . just . . .”
Just what?
Alastor squeezes back. “That would spoil all the fun!” he says, but the car door closes anyway. He settles back into the chair, and his thumb goes up and down your skin. “I have to give him hope that there’s still a chance to fight back.”
What exactly do you want to happen? What exactly do you want to tell him?
Don’t go where I can’t follow.
“I don’t like this,” you say, instead. “Al, I don’t like this at all—not one bit.”
“Ha!” His laughter bounces across the air. “Dearest, are you worried for me?”
“Yes, I am.” You play with the ring around Alastor’s finger, and place a small kiss against the metal band. “Don’t be so surprised—of course, I’m worried.”
Alastor pulls back his hand, and it takes everything not to reach out for him.
Three taps —Tap. Tap. Tap. That’s all it takes, and your fist open automatically. Alastor drops his ring into your open palm. It’s clean and polished as if it’s regularly maintained.
Oh . . . oh, he’s giving back his ring.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
“Hopefully, something foolish,” you say, trying to give him a smile.
“That’s impossible. There’s nothing foolish about you.” Alastor pulls your hand closer, and he slips his own ring around your finger. “Don’t give me that look— I want this back.”
Alastor’s ring is bigger than your finger. It’s a bit loose, but it won’t slip out easily.
“Then I’ll give it back.”
“What a silly and ridiculous wife to exist with.” Alastor boos your nose. “It’s quite exciting to learn you’re capable of such worry. I’m honored that it’s me you’re worried about.”
“I . . . I’m capable of worrying about you.”
Alastor pulls his jacket around your shoulders, wrapping it like a blanket. “This world could burn around you, and I don’t think you would care.”
“It’s cold outside. You need this more than I do.” You push the jacket towards him. “ . . . This is me, caring about you.”
Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, and re-wraps the jacket around you. “Silly and ridiculous!”
The urge to stop him, to grab on to him and never let go . . . it never fully disappears. You keep your hands busy. It plays and twirls with the two rings around your finger.
The car door opens, and this time, Alasto steps out.
The faint smell from Alastor’s jacket warms you with the scent of home, and your eyes shut.
Time passes, and you don’t know how long it does. But the truth sinks its unforgiving claws into you; Alastor is taking too long.
Moonlight reflect against the rings around your finger, and the decision is made.
Alastor didn’t want you to freeze. It’s why he left his jacket to warm you. So, you put it on, wrapping it closer around your body. The car door opens, and warmth and peace and home guard you against the chill.
There’s a shovel at the back seats . . . It’s better than nothing.
“Alastor . . . Oh, my love,” you call out into the wind. “Don’t go where I cannot follow.”
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Alastor.
Alastor? Tell me what’s happening right now.
The grip around his neck tightens, and Alastor knows he made a mistake. That nostalgic tase of boyhood hits him. It’s in that paralyzing tune of helplessness. It’s in that choke-hold of fear. A familiar friend—one he hasn’t seen since before Alastor took his first victim.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
Alastor lost track of him between the trees and their shadows. It only took one, single second. A slight miscalculation that won’t be happening next time.
You would need to be alive for there to be a next time, love.
That . . . that’s your voice. This should be impossible, yet Alastor knows it’s you who’s calling out to him. You should have left hours ago—that was the agreement. Great, he’s going insane from the lack of oxygen. His brain conjured up your voice from the deepest parts of him. Of course, it would be you projected during his crazed attempts to breathe.
Alastor.
Tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter. It . . . just . . . never ends.
Spots flood his teary vision as everything grows dimmer. Alastor can barely see the man’s desperate expression. Such a shame, too. You would love to hear about his pathetic whines, and Alastor would love to describe it to you.
Alastor?
That was you calling out for him and only him. The way you say his name . . . It’s in that oh, so soft voice of yours. His eyes flicker towards the side, and through the tears, and through the spots, Alastor sees you as clear as day.
There's that small smile on your face as you squat next to him. Oh, my dear. You might actually die soon if you don’t do something about this.
Alastor can’t breathe. Oh god, he can’t breathe. Everything loses its color. It bleeds into one big blank of nothingness.
Alastor . . . Alastor?
It’s too dizzying. The desire to breathe burns his lungs. It begs for any mercy, for any relief, for any air. What can he do? Nothing. Just like when he was a child. Nothing has changed. No, that’s not true! Alastor didn’t have you before, and that simple face means everything is different. He reaches out for you, trying to say that he can’t brea—
Alastor, what’s your plan now?
There are no plants. There’s nothing . . . except you. Of course, it’s you. His brain is reverting back into its most basic of instincts, and it decided that you were his most basic instinct.
Well, what do you know?
Seconds—that’s how long Alastor has.
There are seconds of consciousness left. Precious second before he stops seeing you. Death wasn’t a problem – it’s never scared him before – but Alastor is a man of his word, and currently, he’s breaking the promise he made to you.
You’re rolling your eyes at him.
Alastor wants to summon the energy to tell you to stop it. Even in his mind you were infuriating, but . . . but, you’re smiling at him, and those eyes of your crinkl—
WHACK!
Air forces itself into his lungs in quick breaths. Alastor gasps for air, each breathing burns his lungs. The man crumples away from him, and those large hands leave his neck. That paralyzing tune of helplessness disappears.
You said you wouldn’t make me wait for too long.”
It’s . . . It’s you.
There’s a shovel raised above your head, coated in the man’s blood. Alastor stares at you—he stares at that eerily calm expression on your face. It travels up his spine with a chill, but it’s warmth that settles into his cheeks. It strikes him then and there. Alastor has never told you how beautiful you are in his eyes.
Just a second, that’s all he nee—
Alastor doesn’t have a second.
The man rises, clutching his head with fury written all over his expression. His eyes land on you, then the shovel, and the man charges in your direction with a bellow.
You bring the shovel closer towards your chest, eyes widen with frozen legs.
One, single step back – that’s all you’re able to take. Even then, it’s just not enough. The distance grows shorter, and every second Alastor spends gasping for air . . . It brings you a second closer to danger.
Alastor made a mistake, and this world will set ablaze with his fury, burning everything and everyone around him, if he allows this animal to touch even the smallest smile on your lips. It’s that precious to him, and that makes him dangerous.
Alastor stumbles across the mud, pushing himself past his highest limit for you and only you. Fire burns his lungs as air forces itself into his body. It spreads to the very tips of his finger, but Alastor cannot stop. There’s a reason to keep going. There’s a reason to keep running.
The man charges at you with speed, but Alastor has a reason to be faster.
Alastor tackles the man into the tree. A cry of pain rattles the leaves. He doesn’t know who it belongs to. It doesn’t matter, not to him, as long as it wasn’t from you.
What is he doing?
How . . . curious. The sweet tune of violent anger calls out, tempting him to give into his fury. Alastor’s never heard such a call before.
His fists go up and down and up and down and up and down. Each strike burns. The pain of split knuckles cannot stop him. All Alastor knows is that he needs to make this man suffer. Such violence should scare him, but he isn’t afraid – not one bit.
How dare this . . . this animal try to touch you. How dare he. How fucking dare he. Alastor will break every bone in his body, relishing in the cries of his screams. No, that wouldn’t be enough. Nothing Alastor could do will ever be enough to quell this burn. Not even death will be able to keep Alastor from—
“Alastor.”
The way you call out for him . . . the way you say his name in that oh, so soft voice of yours . . . It cuts through the burning haze. Not once has he ever had the ability to deny your calls for him.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
That’s blood dripping down his fingers. Each drop falls to the ground, and sinks into the earth below. It's funny, really. Alastor doesn’t know who the blood belongs to – it could be from his split knuckles or it could be from the man’s broken body.
What expression is he making right now? Alastor can’t bear to face you, not right now.
“Dearest,” you call out for him, and reach out a hand for him. “Come on, now.”
He takes a single step closer, and you mirror his movements. It’s like a funny little dance – the more steps he takes, the more steps you take – and this dance ends when you’re a breath away.
Alastor grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “You were supposed to leave,” he says, and fuck! The tone of his voice automatically softens because . . . because you’re gripping on to him with fingers that tremble. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
This small part of him wishes he left you in that trunk. You were supposed to be in the car – safe.
The breathing part of him is thankful he didn’t. Who knows what would have happened to you if he died, and left his wife inside a car trunk. Oh, you would be furious at him! He would never hear the end of it.
Alastor takes the shovel from your shaking fingers, peeling it off your hold, and replacing it with his hand.
Despite that eerily calm look on your face, the way you tighten your grip tells him everything he needs to know – you’re more rattled than you’re willing to admit. Alastor traces your hand with the gentles of touches, sliding his fingers across your knuckles and into the back of your hand.
He brings your fingers to his lips, giving it the smallest of kisses. “I would appreciate an answer, my love.”
“You were taking too long,” you say, plain and simple. As if that would answer all his questions.
Those eyes of yours land on his knuckles. There’s no reason to hide them from you, especially when you’re looking at him with that sad, sad, expression he painted across your face. It’s in the way your lips wobble, and it’s in the way your eyebrows furrowed together.
“I would never leave you.” You press your cheek into his palm, nuzzling into it even as blood transfers to your skin. “Nothing will keep me from following after you.”
Alastor swipes his thumb across your face. “Even to the depths of hell?”
“Even past that, my dear.”
You bring out a handkerchief from your pocket. It’s simple work, really – automatic, even – to dab on his wound, and wrap his knuckles with the softest of touches. You press a light kiss on top of it as if doing so would make it feel better. (It does.)
The tips of your fingers reach out for him. It’s instinct for Alastor to bend down at your request, and you push his glasses up his nose, fixing it in place with a smile.
Alastor pulls you into a hug, cradling your head into the crook of his neck.
The way you were looking at him . . . with that oh, so soft smile on your lips. Oh, you were such a foul creature! A second longer, and all this anger would fizzle out. That wouldn’t do – there’s still a job that needs to be finished.
Still, Alastor holds you in his arms until your hands stop shaking, and that grip on him loosens.
“Thank you,” he says into your hair. “Go back to the car. I’ll meet you there in a couple of minutes. I just need to finish this.”
“Is that a promise, my dear?”
“If you’d like.” Alastor traces his rings across your fingers. “I’m still expecting you to return my ring to me.”
A small wheezing breath catches your attention.
You tilt your head towards the side, eyes locked onto the way the man struggles to breath. That shing of curiosity lights up your face. The edges of your lips quiver as you hold your smile, and there it is—the lust of wanting to know more, the lust of wanting to explore the entrail of this man.
“Al . . .” You’re tugging on his sleeve with an elated sigh. “Al!”
Alastor humors your curiosity, leaning down to study your expressions. How truly precious, indeed. “Yes, my dear?”
“Al, he’s a smoker!” you say with such a bright smile that can rival the stars themselves. “I saw him smoking before you drugged him.”
“Is this your way of saying you want me to smoke more, dearest?” Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, right where that line of blood stains your skin “Maybe then you’ll always smile at me like this.”
“I want to see his lungs.” You’re tugging on his sleeve again with such a curious and innocent expression. “All that smoke . . . Oh, Al! I’m sure it’s done something to his lungs. You’ve never given me a smoker before – only alcoholics! I’ve already shown you their livers, right? I can show you his lungs.”
It’s almost . . . cute . . . to see you ramble on about livers. What a life he’s living! Married to the most ridiculous person in the world, who smiles so brightly when talking about a dead man’s liver.
“You have shown me all kinds of livers, my dear. My favorite is still the one with the black spots.” Alastor doesn’t really care about the different appearance of livers but you care for them . . . and that’s enough for him. “I’ve even made it a point to drink less.”
“I want to see his lungs.”
“This one isn’t worth your blade, dearest. I’ll find you another smoker. Maybe a smoker and an alcoholic, too. There are a dime a dozen.” Alastor takes a step towards you, blocking your view of the man. “Now, now. I think it’s time you go back to the car.”
“But Al— ”
“I won’t repeat myself a third time.” Alastor squeezes your hand. “I’ve indulged you for far too long.”
It’s clear that you’re disappointed—that bright smile doesn’t crinkle your eyes. “Alright,” you say, and squeeze back. “Much better?”
No, not at all. The smile on your face is meant to conceal a frown. How ridiculous of you to try and hide it from him. Did you not think that he wouldn’t know what a true smile from you looked like?
Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, allowing it to linger. The next kiss goes on your forehead, then to your other cheek. He continues his barrage all over your face until your smile turns a little bit softer. Then, and only then, does he say, “Indeed.”
You walk towards the trees.
“Alastor.” You still for a moment, turning back to him. “Will he suffer?”
“My dear.” Alastor places a hand on his chest, and bows a performer’s bow. “I think you’re forgetting who exactly your husband is.”
There’s that gentle smile on your lips, and Alastor knows better than to mistake it for kindness. “That’s good.”
Oh, these eyes of his! It lingers on you until the trees hide you into their shadows, and even longer after that. Alastor runs his fingers across the handkerchief around his knuckles, tracing the music notes you’ve carefully embroidered. (Alastor knows a secret that you don’t seem to realize; you only embroider music notes when you’re thinking about him.)
Alastor turns back towards the man, laughing as he watches him try his best to crawl to freedom – it’s quite admirable. The attempt nearly succeeded if it wasn’t for his wife.
That’s good.
The way you said it . . . with such a gentle smile as well—it’s sickening. It also crawls up his stomach, and settles some kind of warmth in his face. Alastor brings the handkerchief to his cheek, pressing against it.
What a ridiculous person, indeed.
Alastor hums a small tune that’s carried by the night wind, and presses his foot on the man’s back, collapsing him to the dirt.
“That was a foolish mistake to make.” Alastor smiles at the handkerchief around his knuckles. If anyone was being foolish, it was him – his mistake drove you out of the safety of the car. “That goes for the both of us, I suppose.”
Alastor picks up the shovel, twirling it like a cane. It hits him, then and there; he doesn’t know the name of this man. It’s too late to ask, either way.
“Lucky for you, I promised not to take too long. Ha! But don’t worry, I won’t be leaving too soon.” Alastor aligns the tip of the shovel above the man’s knee. “Let’s take care of that nasty habit of running away. Do your best not to scream too loud! My wife has sensitive ears.”
The shovel goes down, and a scream rattles the birds.
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Alastor returns to the car, a bloodied mess.
It’s all over his dress-shirt, and it stains his vest red. Oh dear, some even got onto his favorite bowtie. His clothes would need to go up in flames. There’s no saving it. Except the bowtie – never the bowtie.
It’s cheap fabric, and something he shouldn’t even be seen wearing. Yet . . . Alastor always finds himself putting it on. He would never throw it away. Especially when you make so little, and buying this bowtie took quite a dent on your paycheck. It would take you months of saving just to buy him another one of equal quality, and even longer for something better.
So, Alastor keeps the bowtie.
He didn’t bother dragging the man back with him like he usually does, but he does leave him scattered around in pieces for the animals.
Oh dear!
Alastor must be quite the mess after taking a tumble. That’s mud staining his sleeves, and blood mixing with it as well. The smell must be horrid as well. He takes a moment, and runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame the stands that stick out. It doesn’t work. An irritated click on his tongue – he can’t go back to you looking like this!
Surely, you would . . . you . . . oh, you were worried for him.
It hits him all at once.
A small, giddy laugh warms him to the core. Alastor presses his face into his arm, hiding a smile that you couldn’t even see. Fuck! He runs another hand over his hair, and now, there’s now way he can go back to you looking like such a mess.
Alastor traces the music notes around the handkerchief once more. Another laugh – it’s louder this time, and it echoes across the trees.
Dear gosh, he needs to keep it together.
Alastor runs a hand over his face, calming his expression, and enters the car.
The moment he settles into the seat, you crash into him, clutching tightly even as the blood on his clothes transfers to you. “Home.”
Alastor wants to say something rather silly. With you here . . . well, he’s already home.
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What are we thinking, people? I still got my writing chops. Alaso, this chapter is supposed to be one big chapter titled Between the Glimpse and The Last because it's between parts 5 and 6 ( |Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part II| and |Part 6: Radio’s Last Broadcast|) Next chapter will be a continuation of this scene. WHERE MORE FLUFF WILL HAPPEN. So if you've liked this, follow along. I'm not done with the Hurt/Comfort. Emphasis on Comfort. Maybe a little bit more hurt as well because this is almost right before 1933
#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x wife!reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x you#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x wife reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel headcanon#alastor imagines#radio demon#alastor headcanons
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Let's Talk About That
Our love's misaligned 'cause you're on my mind every night (9)
Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff
Summary: What is to be the fate of the one with the power stone?
Word Count: 1.9K
Warning: Angst, violence, gore, medical procedures, medical talk, emotional distress
A/N: Thank you for being patient with me and now it's time for the final chapter
Before our descent into Wakanda, about half an hour out, Wanda roused you from your slumber, causing you to jolt awake with your purple magic instinctively surging in defense. "Y/N, it's just me. You're safe," she reassured you as you struggled to catch your breath, your magic fading away as quickly as it had emerged.
"Sorry, Wands..." you muttered, rubbing your temples. "Ughhhhh... Never let me do that again... My head's all fuzzy, and my dreams felt too real." Wanda's touch on your cheek brought you back to the present, her expression softening with concern.
"Okay. I won't. Time to get you ready. Suit up," she instructed before standing up and leaving the room. You sighed, looking down at your costume, feeling the weight of our impending mission settling upon you as you reluctantly donned it.
A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, and Tasha's voice followed. "Hey, it's me. Can I come in?" she asked. You welcomed her inside with a nod, using your magic to open the door as she entered, a smile lighting up her face.
"Have I ever told you how hot you look in your outfit?" Tasha teased, walking over to sit on your lap.
"Yeah, but you could stand to mention it more," You smirked, leaning in to meet her kiss with passion and love, allowing yourself to lose yourself in her embrace as if it were your last moment together.
==================
Vision and you walked flanking Wanda, each on one side of her. Her arm rested on Vision's lower back, her hand on your side holding your hand. You tried to keep your grip gentle as the three of you made your way to the Wakandan medical center. The advanced technology on display was unlike anything you had seen before, a testament to the hidden marvels within Wakanda.
In the medical center, Vision and you were laid on separate beds, subjected to examinations utilizing technology beyond even your comprehension. Shuri, T'Challa's brilliant younger sister, took the lead in explaining our unique situations.
"Their structures are polymorphic," Shuri observed. "For Vision, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially. For Y/N, the power stone seemed to do that on its own, attaching itself in such a way to sustain itself, since the stone appeared to seek her out specifically."
Shuri directed a question towards Bruce, "Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?"
Bruce, admitting the oversight, replied sheepishly, "Because we didn't think of it."
Your chuckle was abruptly cut off by a sharp look and a whack from Wanda. The room shifted to serious discussion as Shuri addressed the matter at hand.
"Can you do it?" Wanda asked about Vision's procedure.
"Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures. It will take time, brother," Shuri responded.
"How long?" Cap inquired.
"As long as you can give me," she stated.
Concerned about your own fate, you tentatively asked, "What about me?"
Shuri explained, "For you, one of our top cardiac surgeons will be overseeing your procedure."
Feeling a wave of numbness, you sat up, biting your lip, leaning against Natasha for support. This stone has been a part of you for years now. You feel like you’re going to loose a huge part of who you are. Wanda's hand squeezed your thigh, her voice in your head reassuring you. She had read your thoughts.
"That's not true," she insisted. "Even without the super strength or some of the abilities, you can still see auras and emotions. You can give and take those things, still help people. Your voice can soothe or shatter eardrums at will. You are so much more than this." Her hand touched the stone, and you placed yours over hers.
"Thank you, Wanda," You whispered, offering her a small but appreciative smile for her comforting words.
Lying on the operating table during open-heart surgery was an experience you wouldn't wish upon anyone. The knowledge that you needed to be conscious in case of emergency was little comfort as the procedure unfolded. The sterile surroundings and the hushed voices of the medical team did little to ease your nerves.
As the surgeons began to cut you open, you couldn't feel the incision, but the sound of the instruments slicing through flesh sent shivers down your spine. It was a surreal sensation, knowing that your body was being operated on while you remained awake and alert.
The worst part came when they began to remove the tendrils of the stone that had wrapped themselves around your heart and lungs. The sickening sound of sinews being torn away made your stomach churn, and you felt every jolt and tug as they detached from your organs. Each movement seemed to reverberate through your body, leaving you feeling nauseous and disoriented.
Despite the discomfort, you forced yourself to remain still, knowing that any sudden movement could jeopardize the delicate procedure. So you lay there, trying to focus on your breathing and block out the unpleasant sounds and sensations, praying that it would all be over soon.
As the doctor informed you that we were nearing the end of the surgery, your attention shifted to Wanda, who was making her way towards the windows. The distant sounds of battle outside served as a stark reminder of the chaos unfolding beyond the confines of the medical facility.
Wanda rushed over to Vision first, her actions filled with urgency and determination. She clasped his hand and pressed a tender kiss to it before turning her attention to you. Confusion filled your mind as you watched her approach, uncertain of her intentions.
"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice betraying the worry that gnawed at your insides.
"I have to go help them," she replied, her gaze flickering with determination.
"No, Wanda, you can't," You pleaded, desperation lacing your words. You couldn't bear the thought of her leaving you alone, especially in your vulnerable state.
But Wanda's resolve remained unwavering as she leaned down to kiss your forehead, her touch soothing yet filled with determination.
"I'm going to keep you safe," she whispered softly before hastily leaving the room.
Left behind in the sterile silence of the medical facility, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. Wanda's absence left a gaping void, and the weight of uncertainty pressed down on you as you awaited the outcome of the battle raging outside.
No sooner had Wanda left one of the aliens you had fought earlier reappeared, its presence sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through you. Without hesitation, you slapped your hand back over the stone, returning it to its rightful place, despite the agony that shot through your body. The wound slowly began to heal, the tendrils once again enveloping your heart and lungs.
"Ready for round two, big boy?" you snarled at the alien, your voice laced with defiance and determination. A flicker of fear passed through its eyes as you rose to your feet, your fists clenched and ready for battle.
"Shuri, keep working on Vision. I can handle this," you called back over your shoulder, your focus solely on the adversary before you. With a powerful push off the ground, you lunged forward, your fist connecting with its face with a resounding impact, sending it hurtling through the air once again.
As the alien staggered, you wasted no time in following up, launching yourself into the air and delivering a double hammer fist that sent us crashing down to the ground below. The force of the impact reverberated through your bones, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the pain, knowing that you had to protect your friends and allies at all costs.
As the two of you spun and grappled amidst the trees, the alien managed to get hold of your stone, sending a jolt of agony through you that momentarily stunned your senses. Before you could react, it kicked me back with tremendous force, sending you sprawling to the ground.
You scrambled to regain your footing, but before you could fully recover, a colossal alien loomed over you, wielding a giant axe with deadly intent. With lightning speed, it brought the weapon down, and you barely had time to react before the blade struck you with brutal force.
Agony exploded through your side as the axe punctured your flesh, sending searing pain radiating through every nerve in your body. With a sharp gasp, you clutched at the wound, desperately trying to keep your insides from spilling out as darkness threatened to engulf your vision.
Wanda came flying down as your body began to heal itself. “Are you okay?” She asked concern evident in her voice and on her features as she reached you. Her hand flying to meet yours that covered your wound while the other held your cheek.
Searing pain ripped through you as your body tried to cinch itself back together. Your stone glowing bright purple in its efforts of putting it’s host back together. Then another wave of pain hits as your chest tightens up. The alien sinews of the power stone clenching up around your heart and lungs. Breathing feeling impossible.
“What? What is it love?” The fear for your safety evident in her voice. You looked around frantic until your eyes met hers.
“He’s here.” You managed out through labored short breaths. Everything felt still for a moment.
Wanda stood up, readying her powers, a red scarlet orb in between her hands. As your body healed enough that you no longer needed to hold it you stood up. Gripping her arm as she looked back at you.
“Together.” You asked, searching those sea glass eyes you’d fallen in love with the moment you looked into them.
“Together. Always.” She responded. Vision flew down beside you two. The mind stone no longer on his forehead.
“Is it destroyed?” You ask.
“Yes. Shuri took care of it.” A sigh of relief comes from both you and Wanda as Thanos appears before the three of you.
As your other teammates fought along side of you none of them were a match until he got to you and Wanda. You had him on his tails until he used the time stone to move backwards just enough to grab the mind stone from Shuri before it could be destroyed and then your stone. Picking you up by your neck and tearing it out of your chest.
Nothing could have prepared you for that. Your body unprepared as the tendrils pull and snap away. A crater left in your chest as you struggle to breath and stay conscious. Wanda holding you and begging as tears fell from her eyes and onto you.
“Please Y/N...please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I never let you explain it. Please don’t leave me like this. Please stay with me. I’ll make everything right I swear, I promise you.” Her voice is cracking and you can faintly see Natasha behind her. You can feel the smile come up on your lips though you don’t feel your hand reach up and touch her cheek. Brushing away a stray tear from her cheek.
“I’ll love you till the day that I die.”
The words sound like you’re underwater and the world around you starts to shrink as white invades your vision and your hearing starts to go.
#ley speaks#ley writes#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda x you#natasha romanoff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fluff#wandavision#wanda maximoff fluff
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losing you pt. 9
remus lupin x f!reader
warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, blood, car accident
pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8
amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3
________________________________________
Amberly can hear a persistent beeping in the corner of her ear. She tries to turn her head to avoid it, shut it out, but the steady pulse continues.
She cracks her eyes open and discovers very quickly that just that simple motion hurts, sending a jolt of white pain directly to her skull. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she bites her lip as a dull headache blossoms behind her ears.
Something is holding her hand. It takes her a second to figure out which hand, which direction. Everything is hazy, disoriented, and her limbs feel like they’ve been wrapped in thick, heavy cotton.
She looks up, eyes squeezed mostly shut.
“Hey,” whispers Sirius. He looks a mess- his black hair is a disaster and his eyes look red and dry. “You feel ok?”
Amberly tries to speak but can only manage a harsh croak. Her throat feels like it’s coated with dust.
Sirius hands her a glass of water off the table and holds it for her while she drinks. It hurts to sit up, and some of the water trickles over her face. She swallows gratefully and manages a hoarse, “Fine.”
He runs a hand over his face. “Merlin, Amberly. I turn my back for one second and you get hit by a car?”
“I don’t remember,” says Amberly sleepily. She’s pretty sure that whatever meds are currently hooked to her arm are starting to kick in again. Her limbs feel heavy.
Sirius strokes her hair. “Get some sleep, okay?”
She doesn’t answer, having already slipped away into dreams.
Getting to his feet, Sirius heads to the waiting room. His eyes are dangerously bright and his jaw is clenched.
Remus is sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair with his head in his hands.
He was at home when he got the news. The unfamiliar number popping up on his phone, staring at in confusion before swiping it open.
And then the businesslike, entirely calm voice on the other side.
“Mr. Lupin?”
On his feet, confusion and a strange, icy dread washing over him. “Yes?”
“Your girlfriend was hit by a car about an hour or so ago. One of her friends apparently brought her in; we found your emergency contact in her bag.”
Remus’ face drained of color and he could hear roaring in his ears, his body turning numb and useless. He didn’t realize he was on his knees on the floor till the polished tiles were three inches away from his nose. “Is she- is she alive?” He barely managed to gasp out the words, voice unrecognizable even to himself.
Amberly, sweet Amberly, my love, I can’t lose you-
“Yes, she’s been stabilized. She does have a nasty concussion and a fractured arm, so we’re keeping her sedated for now.”
“I’m coming down”-
“You’re the biggest fucking idiot this side of the planet”- seethes Sirius, giving Remus a decidedly hard push to the chest.
Remus doesn’t even resist. His mouth is dry, heart racing- “Is she okay?” Desperation seeps into his voice as it cracks at the edges. “Can I see her”-
“You’ve got lot of fucking nerve asking that,” spits the black-haired boy. “Do you even realize what you did to her? And now you come in here acting like oh, everything’s fine”-
“I didn’t say it was fine,” snaps Remus. His voice is decidedly cracking now, and he smears roughly at his eyes with his sleeve. “I know this is all my fault”-
“Damn right it was. How could you fucking do this to her?”
“I didn’t mean to”-
“The fuck you didn’t! You’ve been treating her like absolute shit, when she literally breaks her fucking back to help you and gets nothing at all in return! You fucking told her to her face that you didn’t want her, all because Mr. High-and-Mighty Lupin can’t handle needing help for once in his life!”
Remus bows his head as tears run down his face, knuckles clenched white around his coat. “Please, I know, I just want to see her”-
“Mr. Lupin?”
Both turn at the impassive voice, a tired-looking doctor with spectacles and a smudged clipboard framed in the door.
If he’d heard their conversation, he didn’t let on. “She’s awake.”
“Is she asking for me?” A tiny bit of hope sparks in Remus’ chest-
The doctor’s shoulders tighten, back turned to them.
“No.”
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x reader angst#remus lupin angst#remus lupin fanfic#remus angst#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin imagine#remus imagine#remus imagine angst#remus angst imagine#remus x reader#remus x reader imagine#marauders imagine#moony imagine#moony x reader
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✧ 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗔 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧⎥ 𝗡𝗠29
Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x fem!reader
Summary: It turns out that it is possible to die of a broken heart
Warnings: sad sad sad, swearing,
Notes: I take it back. Kind of. I don't think my groove is entirely back, or maybe it was just the fics I was working on. I wrote this in four hours around midnight and this is my first attempt at writing something sad. I will say that it was hard to not cry writing this, so hopefully 🤞 you guys feel some emotions too. There isn't much dialogue in the beginning. Also, broken heart syndrome is in fact a real thing
masterlist ⎥ navigation
Word Count: 3.7k
Nate is numb. He’s been numb since about 10:30 last night, when the police knocked on his door. He had been home for 20 minutes max, having just gotten back from Cale’s house, supper with him and Gabe and Mikko. Tracey was up in Calgary for a few days. Y/N had dinner plans with her work friends, it was Shannon’s birthday. The world tilted on its axis as he was told that Y/N was killed. They soberly tell him what happened forty-five minutes ago. Hit-and-run…they are looking for the driver…happened in the restaurant parking lot…no, she was the only one. Nate’s pretty sure he stops breathing, because he feels a firm hand on his elbow guiding him back into his house, coaxing him to take deep breaths. Blood rushes in his ears, and he thinks, Australia, their honeymoon. He lifts a hand to wipe his face. When did he start crying?
The police stay for a while, watching him carefully until they are sure he won’t spiral into a panic attack, ironic all things considered. When he is semi-into it, they explain everything again.
Ok,” Nate says, “would you...you mind, um, coming back in the morning? I need to hear this once some of the shock wears off.” His voice is quiet and strained. He doesn’t fight the tears silently rolling down his cheeks. They agree to his request, leaving with a handshake and squeeze on the shoulder, hints of agony shining through their masks of professionalism.
Nate stays sitting at his kitchen table, head in his hands. Sobs shake his body, uncontrollable and awful. He cries so hard he thinks he might cry himself sick. Eventually, he leans back, face twisted with emotion and damp with tears. Slowly, he heads to bed. Each movement is mechanical. He tosses and turns, his sleep is plagued by once-sweet memories of Y/N turned into cruel reminders that she was ripped from him.
Eventually he gives up and moves to the guest bedroom. He cries more, more than he ever has. He wants Y/N, he wants to kiss her, and hold her, and take her to games and-.
-
Next thing Nate knows, he is waking up to the sun streaming through the curtains. He is confused at first, the stiffness of the bed isn't what his bed feels like. As he opens his eyes, last night comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to believe it. They had just started their life together, with promises of love and kids and 60 more years. The tears start again, slower than the previous night but no less gut-wrenching. Reluctantly he heads to the bathroom. He looks worse than imagined. Red and puffy eyes that unfortunately make the blue pop, pale skin and chapped lips. Nate’s hands shake as he splashes water on his face.
Taking a deep breath, he tries to get some semblance of a list to make sense in his mind. He shoots off a vague text to Bedsy, letting him know that he might be late for practice, not knowing how long the police will take.
It turns out that it only takes half an hour. The same officers from the night before knock on Nate’s door at 7:30, introducing themselves and Parker and Walker. They recount the night before in more detail. Y/N was killed at 9:48 pm, during a hit-and-run in the restaurant parking lot. She was the only one, none of her friends were even injured. They tell Nate that it was an instant death, painless…that she didn’t suffer. Nate is frozen in his chair, back ramrod straight and hands clasped tightly. Walker leaves a copy of his first report, and his phone number in case Nate has questions. He walks them out, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming over again.
Returning to the kitchen, he pulls out a notepad and pen. Nate lists off the things he needs to do. Call his parents. Call Y/N’s parents. Call the funeral home. Talk to C-Mac and Bedsy and the team. Get through practice.
He decides to wait on calling his parents, saving that for the afternoon. Same with the funeral home. He is in a daze the whole time he prepares for practice. He makes his usual protein drink, but he thinks that he used orange juice instead of water. Nate’s not sure. He also isn’t entirely sure how he made it to the arena without running a red light.
His whole walk to Bedsy’s office is stressful. He dreads the thought of having to have this conversation more than once. He knocks on the open door, seeing C-Mac there as well.
“Hey Nate, I got your text.” Bedsy starts, looking at Nate, concerned, “You ok? Respectfully, you look like shit.”
“Feel like it too. Can uh, both of you come down to the dressing room? Like now? I have some, some uh,” Nate stops, swallowing, “some news, and I want to say it as few times as possible.”
“Sure, all right.” Bednar and C-Mac glance at each other, worried. They’ve seen Nate be not ok before, but this is new. Nate is silent during their trek to the dressing room, still holding his orange juice and green protein powder monstrosity. Bedsy opens the door, gesturing for Nate to go through first.
“Hey Nate, you forgot your jacket at mine last night. You didn’t pick up when I called.” Cale tells him. Nate is standing where Bedsy usually stands.
“Uh…ok thanks, Cale. I was um…I was a little preoccupied last night. Sorry” He responds. His voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, Bedsy and C-Mac are getting increasingly concerned and Nate feels on the verge of a panic attack.
Cale grins suggestively at him, “Ohhh, I see, I see how it is. Getting a little lovin’ on with Y/N I s-”
Nate interrupts abruptly, cutting straight to the chase, “Y/N is dead. She’s dead.”
The whole locker room freezes. Cale’s jaw drops. Someone's water bottle hits the floor.
“Holy shit-”
“Oh my god.”
“Nate, you need to sit down.”
The voices swirl and blend around him. Nate’s vision loses focus, and cotton balls are stuffed in his ears. Hands find his elbows, easing him into a stall. Someone kneels in front of him. Nate stares, glassy eyes unseeing.
Slowly, he comes back. His throat is raw and scratchy and he needs water. Mikko tosses over a water bottle and a clean, damp towel.
“Start from the beginning, Nate.” Jo urges softly.
So Nate recounts the story. The entire team is close around him as he repeats what he was told this morning and last night. Their faces reflect the horror and agony Nate feels. Tears fall when he says that her death was instant. He hears sniffles from somewhere, and everyone else is crying now, too.
“It’s good,” he says, “knowing that she wasn’t in pain, but it is awful knowing that there was no chance of saving her.” His voice breaks, he covers his mouth with a hand sobs as quietly as he can. Cale hugs one side and Jo’s on the other. Once the tears slow, he takes the towel that Mikko’s holding.
“Practice is canceled, today and tomorrow.” Bednar says, “I don’t want Nate to be left alone. Cale, Jo, Mikko, go with him and grab Gabe too. I will talk to the league, see about rescheduling the game tomorrow. I will have to tell them, Nate.”
“No, you guys play. Say I’m out day to day or something. A practice muscle strain.” Nate objects.
“Nate, your wife died less than twelve hours ago. We will not be playing hockey. I’ll phone in and say we forfeit. I will tell Bettman that the news doesn’t go out until you, me, and C-Mac give an interview.”
“Ok.”
-
The afternoon follows a similar pattern. Cale drives Nate home, Jo phones Gabe. Mel brings soup when she comes with Gabe. She folds Nate into a hug as he cries. He makes the excruciating phone call to his parents and hers. Cale smartly suggests doing a triple call so there’s only one conversation.
“Where should I bury her?” Nate asks, “Here, or should she be back home?”
“Nate, her home has been with you for years. Keep her close to you.” Y/N’s dad tells him. Nate nods forgetting that they can’t actually see him. Gabe takes notes while they discuss the funeral over the phone. Granite headstone, brown casket, service at St. Andrew’s and burial in the graveyard nearby. The reception will be held in the hall near Nate’s house. He doesn’t want people in his house. The date is set for March 5th.
The media has a field day upon the announcement that the Avs have forfeited their game against the Stars. Sid calls him within a minute.
Nate forces the team to play their next game three days later on February 28th. It’s at home against Buffalo. They lose in an uncharacteristic fashion, so much so that the Buffalo players notice something is really wrong.
Gabe takes care of most of the funeral arrangements, and Nate is forever grateful. He meets with the funeral director, sending with him the clothes he picked out for Y/N to be buried in. Before he leaves, he hands Nate a box.
Opening it, Nate finds her purse. Her phone. A box with her wedding rings. Jo finds him with shaking shoulders and his head in his hands.
On March 2nd, a week after Y/N died, Nate asks for a press conference. The Avs lost both games they played in that week, with Nate a very conspicuous absence. Bedsy asks over and over if Nate is sure that he wants to go through with it.
“I’m sure. It won’t be a secret for much longer.” Nate says. Bedsy just nods. The trio of Nate, Bedsy, and C-Mac file into the media room.
Nate starts, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. “I’m aware you all have been wondering where I have been this past week.”
The reporters nod. Nate takes a deep breath.
“On February 23rd, I received news. News that my wife was killed in a hit and run accident. It happened in a restaurant parking lot as she was heading to her car.” He stops as hands fly up. C-Mac picks someone.
“Nate, I am very sorry for your loss. Is this why the game was forfeited last week?”
“Yes, it was. It was a shock to all of us, and none of us were in any condition or mental state to play.”
“How is this going to affect the rest of your season?”
Nate scoffs quietly. His wife is dead and they are concerned with hockey. “I have decided to take an extended leave of absence from the team. I won’t be playing in the game tomorrow night, nor will I be for the rest of the season. My life was completely torn apart a week ago, I have more important things right now. I do ask that I be left alone right now, no reporters at my house or on the street. I want privacy.”
With that, Nate walks out. Cale is waiting to drive him home and he takes one look at Nate and pulls him in for a hug. He is tired of crying and tired of people saying they are sorry and tired of missing Y/N and tired of being tired.
-
No. 1
February 24, 9:09 pm
Nate: Hey guys, I have some news. Davo: Period at the end of the sentence. This won’t be good Nate: Y/N was killed last night, hit and run Sid: Oh my god, Nate Sid: Are you ok? Were you hurt? Davo: Oh shit Nate: I’m fine, but I guess that’s relative right now Nate: I wasn’t there. She went to dinner with friends. It happened in the parking lot Auston: I am so sorry, man. I realize that that is probably not what you want or need to hear, but I don’t know what else to say Nate: No no, it's ok. I appreciate it. I think I’m still in shock, so not much room for anything other that devastated right now Ryan: Is there anything we can do? Nate: No, not right now. Funeral’s on the 5th, if anyone wants to come. My place is full, but any of the guys would let you stay with them Sid: Of course we want to come, it's just a matter of whether we can Ryan: Even if any of us play, once the news is out most teams will probably want a player there for support Davo: I checked and it's in the middle of a break for us. Ryan and I will be there, Leon too probably Jack: We’re out west on a road trip, but I could try and pull some strings to come. Nico will try to be there too Owen: We are at the end of a homestand that day, but I’ll probably get to come. Can’t do much worse than we already are Owen: That was bad, sorry. Lame-ass excuse for a joke Nate: Don’t be. It almost made me not frown. Thank you Juraj: I’ll be there. We are in LA the day before. Newy will want to come Baby Connor: I’ve got a break before our trip down there. I’ll be there. Dammit why am I baby Connor again? Nate: Cause you are a baby. I really appreciate it, guys. Thank you Baby Connor: Dude obviously. You can’t just drop the worst news of your life and not expect your number 1 buddies to rally the troops and support you Nate: The kid’s gonna kill us all. I didn’t need to cry again but everything makes me cry now, I guess Baby Connor: Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to Nate: I know, just messing with you
-
The funeral goes perfectly. Nate’s and Y/N’s parents arrived a few days ago and have been staying with him. It’s a comfort to have them there, though most days he feels like he’s wading through quicksand. There is usually a teammate there, or two. Sid flies in the day before, same with all the guys from the groupchat. Naz comes from Calgary. EJ and Tyson come, and other Tyson and Bo make the trip out with Owen. Alex comes with Juraj. Nate spends the day crying silent tears and hugging more people than he cares to remember. Mikko, Cale, EJ, Jo, Tyson, and Sid are pallbearers at the funeral. He gives a speech, short as he can get away with. His voice breaks and wavers the whole time. Y/N’s parents and Nate’s say a few words, and the priest reads the eulogy.
The weather is mild for the burial, Nate almost wishes it was miserable. The day passes in a daze, making awkward small talk with people he barely knows, Thankfully they leave within an hour. The rest of the people there manage to lift the mood a little and Nate moves from crying to barely frowning. Connor Bedard sticks close to him most of the time. Nate is grateful for him, he’s a good kid with a good heart. He hugs Connor extra hard before he leaves to catch his flight to Utah.
-
“Nate!” Cale calls, knocking on his door again. He’s normally never late, but things still aren’t normal. Nate was the one who suggested that they go skate, not practice, but just to skate. A change of scenery. Cale finally gives up and digs his key out of his pocket. He’s a little confused when he sees that none of the lights are on. Nate hasn’t been himself, but this is weird. Nate’s dog Aspen appears from the hallway.
“Hey buddy, where’s Nate?” Cale asks him. Aspen circles Cale once before heading back towards Nate’s bedroom. Cale follows him. Nate’s door is shut tight and Aspen has his nose shoved in the corner. Opening the door, Aspen bounds to Nate’s side, where he looks to be still asleep. He whines, getting his nose under Nate’s hand.
“Oh my god.” Cale whispers. Nate is a shade of gray no living person should ever be. “Oh my god.” He moves to the bed. Nate is cool when Cale touches his wrist. He fumbles for his phone, dialing 911 when he doesn’t find a pulse.
-
“Sid…” Kathy calls up the stairs, “Get down here, you have to see this.”
Sidney hustles down at the tone of her voice. Kathy is standing behind the couch, remote gripped in one hand. He stands behind her, hand on her waist. Her hand drops the remote, coming up to cover her mouth as they hear the news.
"... and now we have saddening news coming from Denver, Colorado. It is with our deepest condolences that we announce the death of NHL star, Nathan MacKinnon. He was found early this morning after failing to meet teammate Cale Makar, for morning skate. Makar called 911 when he found MacKinnon in bed after he didn’t answer the door. According to law enforcement agencies, MacKinnon died peacefully at home overnight, but suddenly, with no chance of resuscitation once they arrived on the scene. His death comes just weeks after the death of his wife, Y/N. What this means for the Avalanche and the rest of the season, we don’t know. More, after the break.”
Sid thumbs open his phone to the news app. Every headline is the same variation of announcing Nate’s death. Tears fall on the screen.
Colorado Avalanche teammates of Nathan MacKinnon, coach Jared Bednar, yet to speak on the star’s sudden death.
Breaking News: NHL Superstar Nathan MacKinnon, dead at 29. What does this mean for the Avalanche?
“The NHL offers its deepest sympathies and condolences to Nathan and Y/N MacKinnon’s families during this time of tragedy.”
“Nathan MacKinnon, announced dead this morning weeks after his wife, Y/N MacKinnon, was tragically killed…”
Details about Nathan MacKinnon’s death are expected soon.
-
THE COLORADO SUN
Details emerge on the death of Colorado Avalanche star Nathan MacKinnon
J.P Burrow, 12:00 pm March 30th, 2025
Four weeks ago, the hockey world was shocked when Nathan MacKinnon, 29, appeared in a press conference after being notably and unusually absent from two home games, both lost in depressing fashion to weaker teams. What he revealed that day was the furthest thing from what anybody expected.
We were told that a week prior, MacKinnon’s wife Y/N, 27, was killed in a hit-and-run car accident. Her funeral was three days later. Understandably, MacKinnon withdrew from the public. His teammates were a constant source of support, but that only goes so far when grieving your spouse. He decided to take the rest of the season off.
MacKinnon and Y/N were married for three years, and together for nearly ten. They were fan-favorites throughout the league, despite them being notoriously private. MacKinnon never smiled as much as he did when he was talking about his wife.
Now, thirteen days ago, the world was rocked again when it was announced that MacKinnon was dead. Details surrounding his death have been revealed after an autopsy. The report revealed that his heart sustained damage after Y/N’s death, caused by a sudden, constant surge of adrenaline in the days following. This causes a disruption of blood flow in the heart, similar to a heart attack. It is fittingly called Broken heart syndrome, where the death of a loved one can trigger the condition. Death is rare, but it happens.
We reached out to friends of MacKinnon’s across the league, his own teammates commented in a press conference earlier today.
Connor Bedard: Nate was a close friend of mine, he helped me a lot when I first got into the league. I looked up to him a lot. Once I got to know him outside of hockey, I learned just how amazing of a person he is– was. I was shocked to learn that he died. We had just landed in Denver for our game against them when Cale [Makar] called me.
Sidney Crosby: It was a lot for all of us, the whole month. I’ve been close with Nate for ten years, he's my best friend, so to say that I’m going to miss him is an understatement. I saw how much Y/N dying crushed him, they were made for each other. Hockey was his first love, but Y/N was his true love.
Gabe Landeskog: The season changed for all of us after Y/N died and Nate took time off. There will be no replacing Nate, his skill, his passion…it left a hole. I’m not going to sugarcoat things. This will be really difficult to come back from. It won’t be this season, maybe not even next season, but we are going to fight, for Nate. He would want us to.
-
“He really died of a broken heart.” Cale says before turning to bury his face in his wife’s hair, crying silently. He hasn’t been the same since finding Nate, taking his own leave from the team.
For the second time in a month, the Avalanche and company are reunited, standing in black around a grave beside the one they stood around three and a half weeks earlier, but another person short. Y/N’s headstone will be put in the same day as Nate’s. EJ is holding Aspen’s leash, who took him in when Nate died. He’s retiring, he told everybody when they gathered the second time. The past month reminded him that life is short. He is moving back to Denver to take over Nate’s house. They had found a notebook in his bedside table that had the beginnings of a will written in it. He wanted EJ to have Aspen, and the house if he wanted it. Pictures, his suits, and Y/N's wedding dress were to go to his parents, donate his and Y/N's clothes, and box away his Avalanche gear and ship it to Sid in Nova Scotia. Their wedding rings go to Sid too.
“But now they are together again.” Jo says, smiling through his tears. The thought brings some comfort to them, knowing that Nate has been reunited with the love of his life, and won’t spend the rest of his life missing Y/N.
#‣ ✦ ‣ sunset works > fics#‣ ✦ ‣〈 nathan mackinnon 〉#nhl#colorado avalanche#nathan mackinnon#nathan mackinnon x reader#hockey imagine#nhl x reader#nathan mackinnon imagine#nhl angst
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Sacred Hearts Entwined
PT2 Faithful Whispers
Ellie Williams x Reader
masterslist
Part 1 -> ✞
Part 3 -> ✞
What do you do when you’re falling hopelessly in love with your best friend.?
Summery: Ellie was supposed to be a friend, are the feelings that are corrupting you worth it? Why did you kiss her, why even risk it. Now you’re going to lose her.
Warnings -> A lot of Homophobia / arraigned marriage/ angst / Controlling parents / d slur is mentioned! / (lmk if I missed anything else!)
Tag list: @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @lenaloveslesbians
WC: 3.8k
(Not proofread)
(Ellie)
My mouth tastes like iron and everything is numb, it went from pure lust to rage and anger in a matter of seconds. I just keep thinking, “Could I have prevented it?”. Should I have pushed her back as soon as our lips met, tell her this is wrong, everything that my parents would have strongly preferred. Am I the one who fucked up in the end…? It’s not like it matters anyway, I can still hear the muffled yells coming from downstairs, he's arguing with my mom, she's against the boarding school idea, she believes I was corrupted or something, she fully believes they can fix me, no correction system needed. My dad on the other hand wants me gone, he can’t even bear to look me in my eyes. I’m like some foreign alien that just snuck inside our house and took its place as me, I know for a fact as of now he wishes he could just find the “Real me”.
(30 minutes previously)
As I heard the door swing open I quickly pushed Ellie back, wiping my lips, my eyes now meeting with her father. Shit. I step back looking at him wondering if he even saw us. He quickly talks, his voice strained, filled with anger “What were you guys doing?” Ellie looks at me, her eyes already filled with tears, all I wanted to really do was just hug her, he quickly yells “I SAID WHAT WERE YOU GUYS DOING!” I just shake my head and spit out “Nothing!” My voice is filled with nervousness and it feels like I just embarrassed myself. “I should have known, you guys were always too close, having sleepovers and sleeping in the same bed!” Ellie just spits out wiping her own tears “There’s nothing going on dad! We’re friends!” Then his attention fully shifts to me, he steps closer to the point where I need to step back in order to not make any contact. It’s like something just shifts, like he figured the “truth”.
“All those sleepovers, were you guys-” I almost immediately shut down what he was about to say, my voice now more stable. “No!” And as I finish my sentence he grabs my collar which makes tears instantly form in my eyes. “You ruined her. Ellie wasn’t like this before you.” I hated that argument, we met at six, nothing was even there, none of those feelings were even formed until almost 9 years later. It was bullshit, and for some stupid reason I spit that out “Thats fucking bullshit!”. I covered my mouth right after finishing the sentence, I just dug my own grave and that realization was becoming apparent. His grip on my collar tighten and he gets uncomfortably close to my face “You’re a fucking dyke, and you had to drag Ellie into that.” I can see Ellie step forward, her head peeking over his shoulder, tears still streaming down her face as her eyes get puffy and red “Dad let her go! Please” I can’t help but feel like I ruined Ellies life, I was the one who leaned in and kissed her and now- now we're both going to be sent away.
Unlucky for me Ellie's dad doesn't even pay attention to anything she's saying all his attention is fully focused on me “You’ll never see her again.” The way he says it sticks to the back of mind, because I know it's true, the chances of me and Ellie ever even being friends again is most likely over. So now I start crying. It feels like I just lost everything in less than an hour. Ellie grabs him and attempts to pull him back, but as soon as she even lays a finger on her he turns around slapping her with no hesitation.
Ellies nose starts bleeding and her cheek glows red, and once his attention isn't on me and his grip is loose I run over to Ellie as she cuffs her nose. I quickly rolled up my sleeve to wipe the blood from her nose. I talk stuttering over every word “fuck- are- Ellie are yo- are you okay?” I’m now starting to hyperventilate on the brink of a panic attack but Ellie just nods fast. Ellie’s dad immediately rushes over to us, and no not to help Ellie, he rushes over to grab me by the back of my shirt to pull me away from Ellie. “LEAVE” He yells at me, but this time I don’t budge, Ellie is still fucking bleeding and all his attention is still focused on me, he won’t even look at Ellie.
I push him back literally just trying to make sure Ellie is okay but before I even can, she spits out “Just leave..” her voice is quivering and cracking, I can tell she just doesn’t want me to get hurt. So I finally stepped back. I can tell just by the way she's looking at me this is goodbye, at least for a while..
(Present)
I get home and just by the way my parents are watching me I can tell Ellie's parents called them, I assumed they would, at the end of the day as soon as we got caught kissing I knew everything was fucked. “You and Ellie, you’re fucking sneaking around dating” My dad says stepping closer to me, my energy just completely gone and I sigh tiredly not being able to take this outdated homophobic shit. “Me and Ellie are frie-” My mom talks fast, not even allowing me to finish my sentence “YOU WERE KISSING HER, YOU. SNUCK. OUT.” She yells at me standing beside my dad, I can’t even defend myself. What do I even say “We were hugging!” I can’t do anything in this situation. My dad talks again “Pack your bags, we’re leaving in the morning” as my dad finishes my sentence I start tearing up once again. “Where am I even going!?” I yell at them, my respect is now gone, there’s zero point if I'm being sent away. Instead of answering my dad holds out his hand, his palm laying flat. “Phone” I look at him “What?” he now yells “PHONE” I pull it out of my pocket throwing it in his hand before going up the stairs quickly before slamming the door shut.
I open my closet finding the box with all the stuff I don't want my parents EVER finding, pods, weed, vapes, etc. The one thing that was genuinely the most important thing was my pink Ipod touch mini from when I was 8. I always had it in case I got grounded and wanted to talk to friends, the good thing was I knew Ellie had one too, a blue one she got to match me, so for that reason as soon as I unlock it, I disregard everything else and just start texting her.
You
4:17 - Ellie, are you good??
4:18 - Pls answer
Ellie
4:19 - Parents r arguing, i think i'm gonna go to a boarding school
You
4:19 - I’m being sent away
Ellie
4:20 - What?!
4:20 - Where??
You
4:20 - idfk they won't even tell me
4:21 - im so fucking sorry
Ellie
4:21 - why are you even sorry??
You
4:22 - because i started the whole thing
4:22 - If i didn’t kiss u we would be fine rn
Ellie
4:23 - dont fucking talk like that
4:23 - if u didn’t kiss me then i would have been overthinking everything rn
You
4:24 - well we’d still be able to hang out
Ellie
4:24 - well we can figure it out?
You
4:26 - Ellie I don't even know where the boarding school is
4:26 - chances r no service, and i wont be able to bring my phone theyre definitely gonna search my suitcase
Ellie
4:26 - then we’ll send fucking letters idfk
You
4:27 - send letters w no address?
Ellie
4:27 - js stop??
4:27 - we’ll figure something out dude???
You
4:29 - Ellie..
Ellie
4:29 - stop
4:29 - dont fucking add “…”
4:29 were gna be fine?
You
4:30 - u know love you
Ellie
4:30 - i know that
4:30 - i dont wanna lose u
You
4:31 - It’ll be alright, we’ll meet each other again and it will be fine
4:32 - promise.
Ellie
4:32 - I love you
Once you see that final message the gravity of the situation becomes way more tense, the last time you saw Ellie she was bleeding from her nose crying . You start packing your bags wiping tears trying to silently cry, not wanting your parents to come in. You caused this whole situation, you knew you did. If you never called her that word, you would have never snuck out, you wouldn't have kissed her, her dad wouldn’t have caught you, and chances are everything would be “perfect” at least to a degree..all you could do is stare around your room now just realizing how half of your room was covered in her
And not pictures, just resonances are her, pictures she drew of you, stuffed animals she bought, clothes you stole that still have her scent on it, everything around you had Ellie in it, she made you who you are. And as you look around your room, your eyes land on that polaroid picture. The picture was of you two, the sunset in the back and you’re just both smiling shoulder to shoulder.
(Summer, 15 years old)
The wind was blowing on your skin as your hair flew all around the back of your neck, Ellie was in front of you riding on her bike “Come on we're gonna miss it'' She yells trying to usher you to bike faster “The sun won’t set that fast relax!” You groan trying to push faster. “I don’t care! We’re going to miss it so push fucking faster!” She pushes faster than you so you now have to try and match her pace. “Holy shit! Can you slow down” She shakes her head and just goes faster until you guys finally make it. It’s actually really beautiful, the sun setting reflecting off the water as the pink sky illuminates all their surroundings. “Shit..” You sigh fully out of breath and Ellie just smiles at you barely watching the sunset, then you finally turn to look at her “I did not bike all the way here for you to stare at me Ellie” Her whole face turns red and she looks away “I’m not even looking at you, I just think you look gross when you’re all sweaty” The words were
slightly harsh but you try to laugh it off “Ha ha, when did you become such a comedian!” Ellie looks back at you “Oh fuck off” You smile and walk closer to the water “Wait- what are you doing??” she says looking at you quickly running up beside you “Well you said I look sweaty so i'm going to go into the water?” Ellie sorta nods at the response “Well we don’t have bathing suits” You smile at the response “Okay?” You say taking off your shirt leaving you in just a bra. Ellie quickly turns around not looking at you. “I-uh, people” Ellie says and you just shrug “No one comes here like ever, it’s backroads?” You take off your jeans throwing them on the sand and shortly after Ellie then does the same as you not turning around since it’s awkward. “Are you looking?” Ellie asks nervously unbuttoning her own jeans “Oh yeah, hardcore staring actually!” You joke not even batting an eye towards her.
Ellie walks into the water immediately saying “Holy shit! Dude its so fucking cold!!” You laugh and impulsively splash her, getting her whole face wet. “Fuck you!” Ellie laughs jumping forward in the water taking you down with her getting you and her both fully soaked “Stop!” You laugh trying to tackle her in the water when you grab her shoulders and you both just stop trying to fight, only focusing on each other. It’s filled with silence, not awkward silence though, just the sound of the waves splashing against the shore and the breathing coming from both of your mouths..neither of you even broken eye contact..
You move your hand on her face moving a loose strand of hair out of Ellie's eyes, her whole face turns red just by the touch of you plus the intense eye contact doesn’t help. Ellie slightly leans in, not enough for it to be deemed weird but enough so now your faces are closer. You basically naturally do the same, so now at this point you're just mere inches from each other's lips. The moment comes to a short end though when a loud honking comes from the street causing you to both flinch back. The honk leads you to talk to fill the now awkward silence “We should head back, suns basically down” You smile backing away from Ellie moving your hands off her shoulder, Ellie just nods not speaking. You didn’t know it but Ellie felt like a complete idiot that day, she just simply wished she leaned in closing the gap between your lips..
(Present)
You just fully start crying all over the polaroid, the memories flood back and you start to wonder why you guys didn’t just kiss. Let alone act like it happened, even though you guys didn’t talk about that moment you both had a mutual understanding that it would be weird to talk about it again? There was no point. You were always so dumb with your feelings, that's why it took so unbelievably long to finally start to accept that maybe you don’t think of Ellie as just some friend. Your mind is rightfully scattered and you start to think things like “If we kissed then would everything be different right now?” “Would we be together?”. You quickly shut down those thoughts, it’s not what matters right now, you don’t have a time machine and you can’t go back, plus right now you’re way too focused on the fact you have to somehow keep in contact with Ellie you guys talked almost everyday and now there’s a chance that there might be a forever absence of her presence..what are you even supposed to do?
Pack up the 10 years of friendship. Find a guy to marry just to get your parents approval, it’s not fair that way. You can’t just lose her..So found your mind was wondering the whole night thinking
of ways you could be together until you ultimately fell asleep, praying to wake up in an alternate universe where Ellie is holding you, a world where it’s just you and her.
You wake up feeling groggy and out of place, the sun shining on you through the sheer curtains hitting right on your left eyeball. You groan and sit up not even having a minute of peace before your mom comes into your room, not even knocking. “Get dressed, the taxi is going to be here in 20 minutes” You look at her, reality finally setting again. “Where am I going..?” You try again, looking at her when she finally answers “Boarding school in Europe.” Your heart immediately sinks..”Europe?” Your voice shakes, you make eye contact with her, you want your mom to see how this is hurting you, the tears settling in your eyes. “It’s furthest away from here, so yes.” She looks at you, not an ounce of pity in her voice, she doesn’t care what you think, and there's nothing you can say to change her mind.
“All this because I kissed Ellie..?” It’s the first time you’re actually saying it out loud and you hate yourself because it feels so wrong, and it's not because you don’t like Ellie, or you completely regret kissing her, it’s because of the look your mom gave you after you finished the sentence. It’s a look that has disgust and utter disappointment lingering all throughout it. It made you feel like you're some monster, who just wished death upon her or something. She replied her voice is still filled with disappointment. “There’s something wrong with you, and these people will fix you sweetie, I promise.” She takes a step forward and rubs your cheek yet you don’t hesitate to push her hand off. “Nothing is wrong with me!” Your mom steps back and looks at you trying to talk to you softly but realistically it was just some condescending tone that tried to convince you that you were in the wrong “Hun, Ellie and you, you guys are both sick, and it’s okay, once you both get help you’re going to understand where all of us are coming from.” You feel like you’re going to explode “Sick” she’s acting like this is some cold that will blow over and a fucking week.
“Can you get out.” You say no longer making eye contact with her, you can't bear to at this point. “What?” She says almost confused, probably thinking “I didn’t even do anything wrong”. So you talk again this time standing up “Well I need to get changed, so can you get out” You say looking at her. She just nods while walking out. You quickly get dressed and grab your suitcase, it hurts to know you won’t see this room for at least a year.
As you're walking downstairs your dad doesn't even look at you, he just holds open the door and grabs your suitcase, throwing it into the taxi. You look at both of your parents, your mom gives you a hug but you're pity so you obviously don’t hug back. Your dad will not even look at you, it’s like you’re a fucking disappointment in his eyes..
And as you get into your car and drive away, it can’t help but hurt leaving your childhood house, neighborhood, friends, but most importantly Ellie. All the memories would fade and be replaced with new ones. It all sucked, and what was worse was that you didn’t know it now but it would be 3 years till you went back.
I was sixteen then and now I'm nineteen. As soon as I saw “Welcome to Westborough” it almost felt eerie, my smile just instantly faded . “You okay?” My fiancé chuckles holding my hand. I quickly nod “Yeah of course” I give a simple smile. James. It was all my parents' idea. When you were 17 your parents came up with the golden Idea to get married. It would get you not so focused on her. So that's when that's where he came in. It was my moms friend's son. You’ve met him a few times. He was always nice but marrying him?! Marrying him felt so out of place. You didn’t even know him..so you just kept on denying him and it came to the point where my parents ended up forcing you, they said if you didn’t they would cut all contact, they would start telling your family the real reason why you went to Europe and you would end up losing everyone. So you agreed and at 18 he proposed and you two have been living in Europe for the time being. You felt like you just couldn’t go back to Westborough, too much has happened.
So when the ones who forced you out of Westborough wanted you to come back to have your wedding you were silently fuming. “Soo you’re going to show me your childhood home?” James asks, smiling lightly, kissing your neck. You just sorta smile “Guess so?” You say looking out the window as you guys pull up to your house with your parents already standing on the porch. You don't even want to get out, you know Ellie most definitely has her own life and it’s probably a low chance she still even lives here but everything about being back seems so scary.
You get out of the taxi and James goes to get your guy’s luggage as you walk up hugging your mom. You look at your dad and sorta smile, your guy's relationship has never been the same since the situation. You still believe he thinks of you as a completely different person. James walks up and shakes his hand “Hey son!” Your dad smiles at James. You walk into the house and James follows you “Where’s your room?” He smiles looking at you “Just upstairs i'll show you” He follows you upstairs walking in as he puts down your suitcase.
You look around yourself noticing they haven’t touched anything, it looks like your parents didn’t even go into your room once. James walks over to your desk noticing the polaroid flat on your desk, you turn over to look at him and he softly says “Who’s this?” You walk up to him looking at the polaroid of you and Ellie on the beach and you shrug. “Just an old friend” He looks at her “Were you two close?” You sorta hate yourself for what you're about to say “No not really, just friends for a few months.” You only say this simply because you don’t wanna say why you never told him about a friendship that lasted 10 years, it would be too much for him..and you..
It shortly faded into the night, James and your dad went out to bond or something? You don’t even really know they just said that they’re heading out for a little. You look at your watch rubbing your eyes while yawning “10:47pm” you mumble under your breath standing up..As you walk outside of your room you hear the tv going off from the first floor so you quietly go downstairs to see your mom passed out on the couch.
It sucks because you feel like you should hate her. Your whole life has constantly been controlled by your parents, they sent you away at 16 because you were “sick”. You just try to remind yourself her parents probably made her like this, so you grab a blanket and put it on your mom. You sigh walking to the front door and start putting on your jacket, you just need to walk. So that's what you do for the next 10 minutes until you make it into town, stuff has stayed the exact same, which works out in your favor because you know where the closet bar is! You open the door and there's only like 5 people in now 6 including you..And as you look over at the front bar you notice the bartender isn’t even there, you sorta just groan but reluctantly walk over and sit down. You're just looking down at the bar table when you hear the kitchen door open and a girl says “Sorry to keep you wait-” You wonder why she stopped so you decide to look up.
The girl is no other than Ellie..
A/N -> ts took so long for actually no reason 😭
again there will probably be another part since it ends on a cliffhanger, just lmk if u wanna be in the tag list and i’ll add u!!
I will also probably be making another story, i have a rough draft for it right now but i don’t rlly no what to do with the plot, that story will again also most likely have more then one part!
#loser!ellie#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#cute#ellie williams#lgbtq#the last of us#the last of us two#wlw post#wlw love#homophobia#parents#ellie williams x reader#love#lovers#angst#sad#sad angst#friends#queer#lesbian
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Deprived | Twelve
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking (cigarettes), suggestive word count: 3.6k a/n: angst incoming y'all! pls don't kill me.
pov: layla
I woke up to the sun beaming through the curtains making me pull the covers over my face to shield my eyes from the bright light. It took me a moment to register where I was, the unfamiliar surroundings throwing me off. I moved the strands of hair that were stuck to my face as I pulled the covers off of my head again. The cold air nipped at my skin and I shimmied further down the covers only to realise something was holding me in place.
I lifted up the covers to see an arm slung across my torso and I turned my head to look behind me, Matt completely passed out behind me. His hair was a mess on top of his head and his mouth hung open as the right side of his face was smushed against the pillow. I turned my head back so it lined up with the rest of my body, my right arm slightly numb from laying on it.
I reached my left arm forward carefully, tapping on Matt's phone to check the time. It was 6 am and school didn't start for another hour and a half so I decided I wouldn't get up yet. I unplugged Matt's phone after noticing it was fully charged and I quickly plugged my own in, moving slowly so as to not wake him up.
I slid my arm back under the covers, the cold air making my hair stand up and goosebumps covered my body. I shifted my right arm from under me but I accidentally slid backwards into the small dip in the bed where Matt was lying, my back falling against his chest. I felt him shift behind me before he wrapped his arm further around me, pulling me closer to him.
My breath hitched in my throat when his waist connected with my ass and the imprint of his dick was pressed against me. I held my breath, praying that he wouldn't wake up and I could get out of this position before he realised what he was doing. I lay frozen for a moment, my breathing shallow as I looked around the room trying to think of the best way to escape.
I heard him hum lowly from behind me and I quickly turned my head in panic only to let out a breath of relief when I noticed he was still dead asleep. His hips shifted against me again and I pursed my lips, heat travelling to my cheeks. I was sure I looked as red as a tomato and I ignored the fire igniting in my stomach, knowing he was asleep and had no idea what he was doing.
His arm shifted up, laying directly beneath my boobs and I bit my lip. Part of me wished he was awake and was doing this on purpose but since I knew that he wasn't, I pushed his arm back down slightly. He once again shifted his hips against me before letting out a quiet groan and I let out a heavy breath, refusing to let my mind travel to dirty thoughts that were threatening to invade my brain.
I heard footsteps travel up the stairs and in a panic, I pulled the covers back up over my body to hide the fact he was practically wrapped around me. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep when I heard a quiet knock on the door before the door opened. I kept my eyes closed, not daring to check who it was as they walked into the room. After a few moments, I heard the door close again as footsteps travelled down the stairs again.
I peeked my eyes open, letting out a sigh of relief when I realised no one was in the room again and Matt's grip around me tightened. I let out a heavy breath, realising that I wouldn't get out of this position without waking him up. I turned my head to look at him again before whispering, "Matthew."
"Hmm," he hummed back and I used my left hand to tap his arm.
"Matthew, wake up," I said a little louder and he shifted against me once again. I pursed my lips, heat travelling between my legs as I now felt his morning wood pressed against me, "Pretty boy, get up."
"Nuh-uh," he mumbled, his eyes still clamped shut.
"Matt," I tapped his arm once again, "You've trapped me in."
"Hm?" he hummed and I sighed, throwing my head back onto the pillow. I waited a few moments before I felt him shift behind me again. I used that opportunity to quickly lift up his arm and slide off the bed. I looked back once I stood up to see he had fallen back asleep.
I shook my head, before creeping to the door, swinging it open before I walked down the hallway. I saw a door open down the hallway and I peeped around the corner, sighing in relief once I realised it was the bathroom. I flicked the light on, closing the door behind me before locking it.
I peed as fast as possible, the cold air making me shiver with my minimal clothing on. I flushed the toilet, washing my hands with warm water to attempt to heat myself up a little bit. I opened the door before I let out a small yelp when I noticed someone stood in front of me.
"Please tell me you have pants on," Nick spoke tiredly and I let my mouth hang open before I nodded.
I lifted up the shirt to show him I had shorts on before saying, "They're Allie's. They were the only shorts Matt said he had for me to sleep in."
"Could've asked me for shorts. At least they would cover your ass," he chuckled and I pulled the shirt down over my ass as I walked past him.
"Good thing I have a long-ass shirt on," I called quietly as I walked back down the hallway, hearing him chuckle to himself before closing the bathroom door behind him. I quickly slipped back into Matt's room, spinning around and closing the door quietly.
"Where did you go?" I heard Matt mumbled from the bed and I turned around to see he was tiredly sitting up against the headboard.
"Bathroom," I answered, goosebumps covering my skin, "What time do you guys leave for school?"
"Like quarter past seven. It only takes five minutes to get there," he explained before a yawn escaped his mouth and I nodded, standing awkwardly beside the door, "You good?"
"Uh yeah. Just cold," I answered honestly and he looked at me in amusement before flipping up the corner of the covers, patting the spot next to him.
"Good thing we don't have to leave for another hour," he smirked and I rolled my eyes, trudging back over to the bed and placing myself next to him. I pulled the covers over my cold body, sliding further down the bed to cover myself fully.
"Nick said he had shorts I could've worn last night," I told him as I looked up at him and he just stared down at me.
"Those ones are fine," he shrugged and I squinted my eyes at him.
"My ass is out, Matthew," I deadpanned and he smirked down at me.
"Like I said, they're fine," he pursed his lips, attempting to hide his smile and I shook my head.
"Maybe if you gave me better-fitting shorts you wouldn't have been grinding on my ass before you woke up," I called him out, biting my lip to suppress my giggle and his eyes went wide.
"What?" he sat up further and I let a small chuckle escape my lips, "Are you fucking with me?"
I shook my head, sliding the covers up to hide the smile on my lips as I mumbled, "Nope."
"Oh my fucking god," he mumbled, placing his head in his hands out of embarrassment and I smiled up at him.
"Hey," I grabbed his wrist and pushed one of his hands away from his face, "It's fine. I don't mind."
"I'm sorry," he gave me an apologetic smile and I smiled.
"Why? Nothing to apologise for," I shrugged as I smirked at him. I pulled my arm back under the covers again before mumbling, "Fuck it's cold in your house."
"Come here," he held out his right arm, creating a space for me to lay beside him. I hesitated, looking up at him before deciding I'd rather be feeling his warmth than freezing my tits off right now.
I shimmied closer to him, laying my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I didn't know where to place my right hand and made it obvious by shifting it around awkwardly. He grabbed my hand, placing it on his torso and I bit my lip, the close proximity feeling so unfamiliar to me.
"You're really hot," I mumbled and he chuckled, making me look up at him, "Not like that, jackass."
"Thanks, pretty girl," he reached his hand up, ruffling my hair lightly and I swatted it away.
"What time are you gonna get up?" I asked, resuming my hand back to his stomach and he placed his hand on my back.
"I don't get up till like six forty-five," he told me and I nodded, a comfortable silence falling between us. The light of the sun shone through the curtains that were slightly open and the birds chirping outside brought me a sense of peace.
"I have to leave at six forty-five in order to get to school on time," I told him and he hummed.
"I told you I can pick you up," he answered and I started playing with the lint on his wife-beater.
"I don't wanna bother you guys," I mumbled as I shifted my head up higher to a more comfortable position, feeling content from his body heat keeping me warm.
"You're never a bother," he said quietly before his thumb moved in circles on my back, "I think Nick and Chris are really coming around."
"Mia's not," I stated the obvious and he fell silent for a moment, causing me to look up at him, "I like Allie though and Nate seems cool."
"Mia's just Mia. She'll come around eventually," he shrugged, not seeming confident in his words and I chewed on my lip once again. He looked down at me, reaching his left hand around from behind his head and pulled my lip out of my teeth.
"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked once his hand pulled away from my lip.
"Because I don't want you to make yourself bleed again," he answered and I hummed, leaning my head back on his shoulder. There was a knock on the door and Matt called, "What?"
The door swung open to reveal his mother who was dressed and ready for the day. I pulled away from Matt but he pulled me back onto him as Mary-Lou spoke, "Just checking you're awake. Good morning, Layla."
"Morning," I smiled at her awkwardly and I left my hand off of Matt's stomach as to not make it more awkward.
"I'm going to work. Don't be late to school," she said grabbing the door handle, "Love you."
"Love you too, Mom. See you later!" Matt called as she closed the door and I pursed my lips looking up at him, "What?"
"That was so awkward," I frowned and he smiled down at me.
"No, it wasn't. My mom doesn't care," he shrugged, my head bobbing with his shoulder and I rolled my eyes with a sigh, "If she did she would've said something. It's fine, Layls."
"You're parents seem nice," I mumbled, placing my arm back over his stomach, now becoming more comfortable being this close to him. Dare I say, I enjoyed it.
"Yeah, they're pretty cool. They work a lot but I know it's for our benefit. Nothing I can complain about," he answered quietly and I hummed before I heard a phone alarm go off down the hallway, "Time to get ready."
"Who's alarm was that?" I asked as I pulled away from him, the loss of contact making me feel heavy.
"Chris's. He wakes up 30 minutes before we leave," he explained and I nodded, sliding off of the bed. The cold air once again nipped at my skin as I walked over to my clothes that were in a pile on the floor. I reached down, picking up my pants and shirt before I turned around to see Matt sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me with an unreadable expression.
"What?" I asked as I threw my clothes on the bed beside him and he smirked at me before he shook his head.
"You just look pretty," he answered quietly and I bit the inside of my cheek, running a hand through my hair.
"I guess now you've seen me when I first wake up in the morning," I responded sarcastically, thinking back to our conversation at Down's when he took the photo of me.
"And I was right," he answered, standing up from the bed. He stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up to reveal the lightning bolt tattoos once again. I quickly looked away, walked over to the bedside table and checked my phone, "I'm gonna go have a shower. You can grab breakfast if you want. I'm sure Nick's already in the kitchen so he can show you where everything is."
With that, he walked out of the bedroom and I heard the bathroom door close and the shower started seconds after. I quickly changed into my jeans before sliding on my shoes. I left Matt's shirt on, the heater now being on so it wasn't cold enough to wear my long-sleeved shirt.
I exited the room, leaving my phone on charge as I walked down to the kitchen. As Matt said, Nick was sitting on barstools behind the island eating cereal.
"Nice to see you with pants on again," Nick joked and I rolled my eyes with a smile.
"I had shorts on," I defended and he hummed locking his phone and placing it on the counter in front of him.
"You want anything for breakfast?" he asked, scooping more cereal into his mouth. I heard footsteps trail down the stairs before Chris walked past me without a word, going directly to the fridge and pulling out a Pepsi, immediately downing it. He only wore sweatpants and no shirt making me realise he didn't have any tattoos.
"Is that Matt's?" he asked while pointing to the shirt I was wearing, his voice raspy letting me know he had just woken up as well as his hair pointing in different directions.
"Uh," I looked down at the shirt before looking up at him, "Yeah."
"Weird," he mumbled before spinning around and grabbing himself a bowl, "You want cereal?"
"Sure," I shrugged, feeling awkward being left alone with Nick and Chris without the backup of Matt or Allie. I still didn't know if they liked me or maybe they were just pretending for Matt's sake and it made me feel out of place in their home.
He grabbed another bowl for me, pouring the Froot Loops into both bowls before grabbing milk and filling the bowl up. He slid the bowls across the island before grabbing two spoons and rounding the counter. He sat to the right of Nick and I gave him a thankful smile before sitting on Nick's left.
"Nick!" I heard Matt call from the top of the stairs before his heavy footsteps trailed down the stairs, "Where is my grey shirt?"
"Why the fuck would I know?" Nick responded and I lifted my head up from the bowl, looking past Nick to see Matt standing at the bottom of the stairs in nothing but his jeans. His hair was wet and I noticed he decided not to shave again, the scruff on his face making him look even hotter. I looked him up and down, his eyes not leaving Nick in annoyance as I scanned him.
"Because you did the laundry last," Matt answered like it was obvious and Nick groaned, turning around to look at him.
"Then look in the fucking dryer, Matt. I don't keep track of everyone's clothes and their whereabouts," Nick answered, his tone short and I assumed it was because it was early in the morning. Matt rolled his eyes, running back up the stairs and my eyes trailed his movements before he was out of sight.
"You are not subtle, Layls," Chris spoke with a smirk and I turned my attention to him.
"What?" I asked, pure confusion on my face and he chuckled to himself.
"You just looked at him like you're gonna eat him whole," Chris said matter-of-factly and I bit my lip looking down at my bowl before taking another scoop into my mouth.
"I did not," I grumbled, quickly finishing the rest of my cereal. I stood up, placing my bowl in the sink before I turned to face them, "I'm gonna go finish getting ready."
"I'm sure that's what you're gonna do," Chris answered teasingly as I made my way to the stairs, throwing up a middle finger as I trudged up the stairs. I heard him chuckle behind me as I stopped at Matt's door.
I knocked on the door, hearing a quiet 'come in' before I opened the door. He was now dressed fully in the grey shirt he was looking for, tying his laces on his white air forces.
"It's supposed to be snowing today," he spoke as I walked towards my bag. He stood up, opening his curtains to reveal that it was already snowing.
"Fuck," I mumbled, picking up my long sleeve shirt, realising that I would be freezing since I just had my long sleeve shirt and leather jacket.
"You want a hoodie?" he asked and I turned to look at him, "I don't want you to get hypothermia in just a shirt and jacket."
"Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly and he nodded, walking over to his wardrobe and pulling out a black lyrical lemonade hoodie. He threw it to me, catching me by surprise and I dropped it onto the floor, giving him an unimpressed look, "You're the athlete here. Give me a warning next time."
"Sorry," he snickered as he grabbed his letterman jacket, sliding it on, "I'm gonna go eat and I'll wait downstairs."
"Okay," I gave him a nod as he exited the room, closing the door behind him again. I quickly slid off his shirt, throwing it on his bed before I slid on my own long-sleeve shirt. I slipped on his hoodie and I was glad he wore oversized things a lot because if it was a size smaller, it would be too tight for my liking.
I took my phone off charge, sliding it into the pocket of my jeans before sliding on my leather jacket and picking my bag up off the floor. I walked over to the full-body mirror, seeing that my hair was a mess. I sighed, throwing it into a high ponytail to keep it out of my face.
I grabbed my eyeliner out of my bag, quickly scribbling it onto my eyes and smudging it with my finger. I then looked around for my mascara, only to realise I forgot to put it in my bag yesterday. I groaned, deciding I'd have to go without it and deal with the mascaras left over from the day before.
+++
We arrived at school at 7:20 am, giving us 10 minutes to do nothing while we waited for our first classes of the day. Nate and Allie pulled into the parking space next to us moments after we arrived and I slid the door open, jumping out quickly.
"Hey!" Allie said excitedly and I gave her a smile, pulling out my cigarettes and lighting the end of one of them. I walked towards the back of the car so I didn't make the minivan smell like smoke, "Is that Matt's hoodie?"
"Yeah. I stayed there last night and I didn't have a hoodie with me," I explained and she hummed, adjusting her own puffer jacket with a grin on her lips.
"I'm freezing my ass off. I'll see you inside," she said quickly before bolting towards the school. The snow fell on my face and I slid my hood on, the scent of Matt's cologne hitting me when I adjusted the hoodie.
"You coming in?" Chris asked as he began walking backwards and I nodded.
"Gonna finish this first," I answered holding up the cigarette in my hand before he nodded, spinning around. His brothers followed behind and Nate gave me a nod before following after them. I quickly finished my cigarette, not wanting to be out in the snow longer than I needed to.
I stomped it into the ground before making my way inside the school. I walked down the hall, seeing a small crowd of people around the lockers and I frowned. I saw Matt, Chris, Nick, Nate and Allie all standing in a line looking towards where my locker was.
"What's going on?" I asked as I walked up behind them and Allie quickly spun around.
"I need to go to the bathroom. Come with me," she spoke so quickly I barely registered her words making me frown.
"What?" I looked at her suspiciously and Matt turned around. I used that as an opportunity to slide past him and see what they were all looking at. My jaw dropped when I looked at my locker, all eyes turning to me as I stood frozen.
"Who did that?" Nate said quietly and my eyebrows furrowed, letting out a heavy breath.
"I have an idea," Nick grumbled from beside me and I looked around the hall, everyone looking at me with either pity or giggling at my humility.
"Layls," Matt placed his hand on my shoulder softly, "We'll get rid of it."
I sighed, pushing through everyone as I speed-walked down the hallway and shoved my way into the bathroom. I quickly closed the stall door behind me, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet as I placed my head in my hands. My mind flashed to the writing on the locker, my chest tightening from the pain of the words hatefully written in black Sharpie.
Slut. Ran through. Not even your own mother wants you.
tags:
@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @sturniolowhore @dsturniolo @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69
#chris sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#sub matt sturniolo#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo smut#the sturniolos#sturniolo triplets smut
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LANA 🖤 I see your requests are open. May I request reader having a super long day, like ACHING bones and all she wants to do is sit down. So lovely caring Joey offers her a seat…on his face 😇 (no me self projecting hehe) ily 🫶🫶
NADIA 🖤 I GOT YOU. ALSO ILY.
Under 18's DNI. Word Count: 1.8k
Groggy, unsettled and aching; that was your mood. A bad mood if you could put it bluntly. Work had been over demandingly busy today, you had taken at least 3 sets of pain killers to numb the pain, attempted not to clock watch as time would certainly go slower, you got your head down and got on with it, constantly chanting to yourself you got this, get it done and go home. Problem was there was a grand total of 9 hours of the 'getting it done' to do.
As usual, you were in the biggest rush to return home to your safety and sanctuary, where nobody could disturb you. You dropped your keys at least twice trying to get them into the door to unlock it, giving yourself a few choice words before taking a sharp breath and endeavoured to complete what was probably the easiest move you had made all day.
You stomped through the door, making your presence known, slumping down your bag into the corner of the hall way, dropping your jacket over it and sluggishly dragging yourself into the living room where the sound of life filled your ears. The sweetest view made you feel an inch calmer when you saw the back of his head, a swift turn of it brought you face to face with the utter delight of your boyfriend's features carefully analysing your mood.
"Good day darling?" Joe asked.
"I feel like death so um, no." Your bottom lip pursued to poke out, you almost looked like a dramatic child throwing a tantrum over something so small.
"What can I do to make it better?" Joe reached out his hand toward you, initially you took two steps forward and then halted back into a stood position, arms folded deciding against the embrace of your significant other trying his best.
"C'mon baby, you're home now." Joe mirrored your bottom lip puffing out before standing to his feet and making his way over to stand in front of you. Keeping your arms tightly wrapped, he snakes his arms around you, letting your face fall into his chest where he soothes from the back of your neck down to the small of your back, small subtle kisses adoring the top of your head as he gives you a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"You're stressed." Joe mentioned.
"You don't say." You replied muffled, being borderline suffocated by Joe's t-shirt. He pulled back to get a better look at your face, bringing his hand to stroke against your cheek.
"I just want to sit down." You sighed out a combination of relief to be able to breathe properly and hoping that you would get your wish.
"Where?" Joe smirked, an eyebrow raising and head tilting slight. The cogs in your head turned until the penny dropped.
"Where do you have in mind?" You decided to play dumb.
"A chair?" He shrugged his shoulders.
"I need something a little more comfortable than that." You looked down slowly before bringing your eyes up to bore into the beautiful brown ones that met yours, batting your eyelashes perfectly.
"I'm sure I can stretch to finding you a pillow." He laughed, your arms returned to their folded position.
"Fine, fine. I have a better idea." Joe did a little hop skip and a jump, landing backwards onto the sofa, slouching ever so slightly.
"How about here?" The wink was wicked and you were already beginning to feel better about the aches you had earnt from work and were more cautious of the aches that seemed to form stronger below. Joe pointed toward his face, making you bite down onto your lip.
"Hmm, my favourite seat." You were a shirt flirt, but he seemed to eat it up, so it wasn't an issue.
"I'm so glad you decided to wear that little slutty skirt today." Joe licked his lips, swallowing saliva practically already tasting you.
"Slutty?" You stopped in your tracks.
"You know how I feel about you in that skirt, haven't fucked you in it so many times for nothing." You both simaltaneously giggled.
Joe made grabby hands at you, advancing you to come closer to him before you sat on his lap, straddling over his waist. He progressed to slouch downward. "Let me take care of you, baby."
"You always do." You moved yourself toward his knee, bringing yourself down to leave an inch of space between your mouths. Joe pressed his lips to yours quickly, they moved in unison smacking together, partially through desperation and partially through lust. You pulled back and when Joe opened his eyes, they looked starved. They sparkled a different type of way, the one that you only saw when he wanted to do naughty things to you.
You hovered upward whilst Joe made work of your underwear, pulling them over your ass and downward, your fingers met half way for you to rid the rest of them before returning back to him.
"You're stressed and I'm hungry, maybe we can help each other out." It's true. Joe was just as a terrible a flirt. A match made in heaven.
You clambered up over him, leaning your knees against the top of the sofa, his fingers gripping into your thighs to keep you up right whilst you adjusted yourself. You didn't even need to sit right down before you felt Joe's muscle reach up from no where, taking his own sample of your sweet juices, the tip of his tongue licking a stripe right through your slit. Your whole body clenched, you felt breathless at first contact, you was not sure how he managed to make you feel so amazing before he had even truly begun.
"Taste so fucking good, my girl." He moulded his finger tips into the fat of your thighs before moving the tip of his tongue against you again, this time brushing right up against your clit. With a hum of appreciation, Joe mustered all the saliva he could in his mouth before pushing down on your thighs to gesture for you to get comfortable.
You were spread perfectly, enough for him to dig in straight away. Joe's hands let go of your thighs and moved up to your hips, flattening out his tongue so your cunt massaged against it back and fourth, his hands moving your body like a puppet for his own enjoyment.
"Ugh fuck." You moaned, throwing your head back, your hands landing on top of his messy curls.
"Mmm." Joe groaned, man handling you further forward so he could reach for your clit, his lips cupping against the aching bud as he sucked furiously, his tongue poking through to flicker against it in a circular motion.
You tugged erratically at his hair, your fingers ravelled around the strands, urging him to go further. "Don't stop." You whimpered, the feeling becoming all too much too quickly. Joe knew how to hit the right spots all too well with you, your body was a temple to him and he knew his way around you. Joe shook his face against you, his lips creating an almost vibrating motion against you, the shock of electricity ran through the entirety of your body within seconds, sending you over the edge. You came with all your might, crying out Joe's name with an almighty roar. Joe lifted you up, letting himself take a breath, using all his muscle to keep you hovered in the air.
"Fucking hell babe." Joe let out a mischievous chuckle. "I think you've got one more in you."
"I-" You didn't even get chance to give him a straight answer before Joe stood his tongue to attention, bringing you down and planting his muscle straight through your entrance and slotted it inside of you.
"Oh my g-" You jolted forward, his thumbs creasing into your skin not letting you go too far, pushing you up.
"Stay." Joe breathed out. Your hips were slightly brought up and then down again and you were bouncing slight against his face until his face was firmly buried and he created a steady rhythm and began to ride his face intermittently. The over sensitivity had you feeling all over the place, squirming and not knowing where to put yourself.
Joe's moans were apparent yet distorted, his own bulge twitched every time you moved a certain way. He snaked one hand up toward your back, whilst the other found it's way through a small gap to lead itself to your clit, the rubbing intensified the sharp feel of the way his tongue felt inside of you. You pushed all your weight against him, taking everything you could get which gathered a whole new meaning of sensitivity rushing through you. "J-J-Joey." You couldn't muster anything more, the combination of his tongue and two fingers pressed against you were enough to make you want to cry.
"Y-y-yes b-a-baby. I'm going to-" His fingers stroked so perfectly through the slick that coated the outside of your cunt, it was a messy situation going on below but it was fucking worth it. Joe pulled out of you just as you were about to cum, his tongue flattening against you once more as you rid against midway of his muscle, your body gave way within seconds after as you bellowed out a not so audible string of curse words.
Your cunt squirted out into his mouth and Joe tasted and swallowed all that you had to give, humming and showing major appreciation to your perfect 'party trick'. His hands returned to your hips, pulling you up to offer you a safe attempt of getting off of him so that you didn't give way too quickly.
"Joseph fucking Quinn." You gave your boyfriend a peck full of thankfulness. "You never cease to amaze me."
"I aim to please, beautiful." He leaned in for a more passionate, short lived kiss.
Joe moved you over to the side of the sofa beside him, you were close to leaning into him for a cuddle but were met by the warm patch where his ass sat. He stood before you, offering his hands out, making those cute grabby hands again.
"Come on gorgeous girl, time for a bath. I'll make us dinner whilst you relax and then we can get the comfy blankets and I'll let you rant to me about your shitty day."
"No need. All is forgotten." You smiled gleefully.
"It is?" Joe returned the sweetness of the smile you offered.
"Because of you."
You still took Joe's hands, you still took the warm bubble bath complete with candles and a glass of wine. You still ate every single bit of food that your man had prepared for you. You still had a lovely cuddle on the sofa and talked about anything but work to keep your mind off of what was now in the past. There was one thing that he missed, the part where you returned the favour once you had gotten in bed.
#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn fluff#joseph quinn angst#joseph quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn imagine#joseph quinn x reader
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God, That's Good
Chapter 7: Wait
Alastor tries to ease Lucifer's impatience, and Vaggie comes by for a favor.
Tags: more brooding, banter, A PROPER KISS
Before I rant about my writing wife some more, I do want to advise that once we get past this chapter, things will be getting quite a bit darker and more explicit. There's murder; there's blood; there's cannibalism; there's a little sex (not dark, but still warranting a warning I think LOL). If you know the musical/movie I'm sure you have a vague idea of what's coming. Be mindful of these things from chapter 8 onwards- I'll make sure to put specifics in the tags for each chapter but PLEASE don't read if you think these things might be triggering or upsetting to you.
Back to our regularly scheduled vibes- as always, huge thanks to @fraugwinska for helping me stick to a normal schedule and being one of my absolute best friends and most enthusiastic supporters 😍 ALSO thank you to everyone that has liked/reblogged/commented- this AU has me in a chokehold and I'm stoked that others are enjoying reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it
PSSSST: Wednesdays have even more to look forward to! If you love Alastor being a questionable hottie as much as I do, check out @hazelfoureyes with A Doe in Fall that is ALSO updating on Wednesday evenings! I promise I'm very normal about this story and Hazel's writing in general (she said, lying, being very not normal about either thing)
Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6 🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9
Despite her promise to visit soon, it’s a fortnight later and the Beadle still has not come by Lucifer’s barbershop.
He would be the first to admit that he broods on it. Between customers of his now booming business, he spends hours sat in his chair staring at himself in the mirror, trying to find the remnants of the man he used to be. He watches the tendons in his hands move as he shaves the gentlemen of New Orleans, thinking that they surely were not the same hands of Damien Diggory though they remained on his body all the same. Families came and went through his door, constantly reminding him of what he had lost, what the Beadle and Adam had to pay for, making his unease at her absence grow more every day.
He sat now in his empty shop with one of his razors in hand, staring down at the blue of his eyes reflected on the blade. He felt empty, numbness creeping from the pit of his stomach to his limbs and making his whole body feel like a hollowed out shell of a person- he looked the same, sounded the same, but the substance inside him was either missing or in the process of rotting where it sat. Charlie was still out of his reach, his revenge on hiatus until the Beadle saw fit to grace his shop with her presence. Everything was at a standstill, and the lack of activity beyond shaving was making him a madman, always pacing around the upstairs, approaching the entrance to his family’s old apartment and retreating like a coward.
A creak of the floor alerts him to the door opening, three soft knocks letting him know that it’s Alastor. He can hardly look the man in the eyes these days after he had embarrassed himself that night two weeks ago, when he had tripped into Alastor’s lap and pulled him into a kiss. It was embarrassment more than anything; thinking that he had reciprocated had been nothing but a figment of Lucifer’s drunk imagination, as Alastor hadn’t mentioned it since. Sometimes his eyes will fall on the younger man while Alastor is busy doing something else, and he uses those stolen moments to learn the curves of his face, imagining the blade skimming over his cheeks if he ever gave him the chance to give him a shave.
Alastor comes behind the chair, leaning his elbows on the back above Lucifer’s shoulders. “I thought you had no customers today,” he says softly, watching Lucifer in the mirror. “What are you doing up here, hm? Plotting?” He smiles slyly, the corners of his mouth turning up and giving him a mischievous look. “Or pouting?”
“It’s been a fortnight,” he laments, snapping the razor closed and placing it on the stand beside him. “Why has she not come?” He stands from the chair and starts to pace- surely he looks like a madman, stalking between the apartment door and the sizable chest that held his spare towels and aprons, hands taking through his hair.
Alastor sighs, his smile still in place. “Oh dear, a tantrum. How unbecoming. And just when I’ve started to think you were respectable.”
Lucifer scoffs. “Come now, Alastor- you don’t think it strange that she’s not arrived yet? You’d think such an ‘esteemed member of society’ could keep to a date.” Perhaps his air quotes and exaggerated accent were a tad childish, but it still makes Alastor laugh through his admonishment. “I’m… antsy, sitting around and waiting for her. They have to pay for what they did to Lilith, to me-”
“And they will.” Alastor leaves the chair to approach him, the proximity when he finally stops making Lucifer’s heartbeat pound in his throat. “Patience is key, my good man.”
“I’ve waited for so long already,” he groans. “Was fifteen years not enough? Must I wait another ten before I’ve avenged the wrongs against us?”
“So she’s a few days past when she said she would come,” Alastor says flippantly. “Do you not think that your over-eager manner won’t scare her off? Cause her to alert the Judge?”
Lucifer says nothing, not wanting to concede that he’s correct. He keeps his eyes on his feet, that hollow feeling returning to his chest and muffling the sound of Alastor’s voice as he continues talking. What would he do if she never came? Then surely Adam would never have reason to set foot in his parlor; he would never have his vengeance, Charlie would be lost to him, Lilith would be dead with nothing to show for his avenging her-
“Lucifer.” His head jerks up, and Alastor is watching him with narrowed eyes. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
He’s sure his face flushes. “Of course I did,” he lies, “you were… shit-”
The smile returns to his face. “I was saying,” he says softly, “that perhaps you can use the time to update your bearings. Get some flowers, hang some decor on the wall- that will likely sway the Beadle’s mind as far as recommending your establishment to the Judge, if the walls are not bare as though you’ve just moved in.”
“I have just moved in,” Lucifer points out petulantly. “I’ve only just started taking customers this last fortnight, I’ve not had time for bearings as you well know.”
Alastor claps his hands together, the sound making Lucifer jump. “I’ll send Husker for a floral arrangement for you- I think it will really cheer the place up.” He glances at Lucifer, a slow drag of his eyes up and down the barber’s body that almost makes him feel shy with the heat it contains. “I was also thinking that the unknown waiting period we find ourselves in is not a wholly bad thing. Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but I find that half of the fun in a plot is making the plan itself! Especially when one has a partner.”
And to Lucifer’s surprise he steps closer, bridging the already short gap between their bodies and taking Lucifer’s hands in his own. “I, for one, have also been enjoying this time simply getting to know you.”
He thinks his brain stops working, the way his mouth stammers to get out a response to that. “Oh! Well, I- I mean, I’ve also been, you know. Enjoying you.” Alastor’s head tilts in amusement, and Lucifer realizes what he’s said. “Enjoying your company, I mean! Fuck, I’m sorry-”
“There’s no need to apologize,” Alastor murmurs, and he releases one of Lucifer’s hands to slide around his back, pulling him fully into his chest. “We did say that we would revisit the intimate portion of that night when you were no longer intoxicated. Tell me, Lucifer, are you under any influence at this time?”
He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he shakes his head. It shakes some logic loose- that kiss had been a mistake, the door wasn’t locked if a customer approached, he was less than ten feet from the apartment he had shared with his dead wife- but doesn’t stop him from allowing Alastor to lean in and press their lips together.
It’s so much better now that he’s not drunk. The kiss is soft and gentle for a bit, simply their lips touching as they learn the ways they fit against one another. It’s not until Alastor fists a hand in his shirt to keep him close that Lucifer even considers trying to deepen it. His hands tremble from nerves instead of liquor when he reaches up to hold the back of Alastor’s head, fingers threading through his hair while a broken noise tears itself from the back of his throat. Alastor responds in kind, making a soft sound that’s lost in Lucifer’s mouth as he parts his lips, his tongue shyly seeking entrance that Lucifer is all too eager to give him.
Lightning sparks behind his eyes, heat flooding his veins to pool low in his stomach, and he knows he needs to end the kiss before he does something that both of them may regret- though he hates to break the intimacy of the moment, ravishing Alastor in his parlor was not on his agenda for the day. He would need time to plan, to properly court the baker perhaps before inviting him to his bed- not to mention the extra time he would need to whisper pleading prayers to Lilith to forgive him.
Lucifer pulls back, his resolve nearly broken when he sees the way that Alastor’s lashes flutter, a noise of confusion escaping him. “We-” He clears his throat, embarrassed at the low rasp of it. “We should stop for now. Which is not to say that I don’t want to kiss you more! I do, very much,” he rambles, and Alastor merely blinks slowly and watches his mouth move as he had that first night. “Just, we should take this a bit more slowly. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness-”
“Rest assured, Lucifer,” he purrs, “you are not.” And that makes him lose his train of thought for a moment, with how husky and low the words come from Alastor’s mouth.
“Haah, well, still. I would like to take this a bit slower and do it right. If you would allow me to, you know, properly court you, I would very much like to do so.” He sounds stupid, he realizes, like a child with a crush asking them to check ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on a piece of paper; he just hopes Alastor isn’t put off by the formal request. Perhaps he would prefer something unspoken, more blinding, unplanned kisses that steal both of their breath and leave them panting and wanting more.
But thank God, Alastor simply smiles at him and takes his hand again. “I would like that as well,” he says, and Lucifer thinks he could just collapse from the relief he feels. “We shall go at whatever pace best suits us- though I hope you’ll forgive me if I seem a bit impatient at times.” He watches Lucifer’s neck as he says this, and the barber knows he follows the movement of his throat as he swallows. “But by that logic, if I can wait for what I want, surely you can as well.”
Lucifer opens his mouth to respond- to admonish him, or perhaps pull him in for another kiss- when he hears the creaking of the stairs. He has just enough time to step back from Alastor before the door swings open, and he manages to hide his disappointment that it is not the Beadle, like he hoped, but Vaggie.
“Mister Morningstar!” She crosses the room to greet him with an enthusiastic handshake. “It’s been ages, I haven’t had much time to make it to this side of New Orleans but I’m happy to see you’re in business. And hello to you as well, sir,” she offers to Alastor, who gives her a small smile and turns to tidy something on the shelf behind him. “Mister Morningstar, I admit I have a favor to ask of you- there’s a woman, you see-”
Alastor scoffs behind them, and Vaggie’s eyes narrow into slits before she continues. “She is kind and beautiful, and stubborn beyond belief; she’s opened my eyes to so many new ideas and theories, and- her guardian poses a problem to any intentions I may have towards her, but late last night as we talked and the Judge called her away, Charlie slipped this into my hands.” She holds up a key, dark and dangling off a red ribbon. “It must be a sign, don’t you think?”
“Charlie?” He could hardly dare hope that it was her- that the Judge Vaggie spoke of was Adam, that such an opportunity to have her back was simply being dropped into his lap like this. “Charlie. And, the Judge, you say?”
“Charlie- Charlotte, I suppose, that is her name. And the Judge Cain and his lackey, the Beadle Sera Dempsey. They patrol the alley behind Cain’s home at random hours but despite this we’ve found days that we talk for hours before they can interrupt us. She is perfection, Mister Morningstar, and even if she doesn’t return my feelings I want to see her free from these jailers she’s in the care of. If I can convince her to leave with me tonight- perhaps later in the week, depending on when that horrid Judge is home- could I bring her here for shelter for an evening? Just until I can find a coach for hire to take her North with me, or wherever she wishes to go.”
She finally stops talking, taking a deep breath while she waits for Lucifer to answer her. He finds his words stuck in his throat- yes, bring her, please, bring her to me- and is dismayed to find a lump in his esophagus, halting his words behind the threat of tears. He clears his throat, blinking his eyes a couple times to rid himself of emotion. “You may bring her here,” he says, his heartbeat rapid in his veins, and Vaggie’s face lights up with joy.
“You’re a blessing, sir, thank you! I hope to see you again tonight, but in any case, I’ll come with Charlie soon!” She shakes his hand again, the force of it making him stumble, before she releases him and is back out the door as quick as a flash.
He turns almost absently to Alastor, who gives him a smile. “Who could have guessed?” He says cheerfully. “You’ll have her back before the week is out- possibly even before the day is done!”
“Charlie will be coming here,” he says distantly, and then it hits him like a train. “Charlie is coming! Oh God, what will she think of me? I need to- shave, maybe, or- should I grow it out? My beard was grown out when she was young, maybe that’s why she no longer recognizes me-”
“Lucifer.”
Alastor approached him slowly, like one might a feral animal- and that’s what he had felt like lately, some untamed beast stalking around his shop, so perhaps Alastor was right to take a cautious approach. “Perhaps we focus first on getting her here before you spiral about letting her know who you are, hm?”
“You’re right,” he says, and thank God for Alastor to help him keep a level head. “Of course, making sure she gets here safely is the most important part. But- we should clean the place up a bit! How soon do you think Husk can bring those flowers you mentioned? And I can dust the apartment, make sure that everything is tidy-”
He’s interrupted by the creaking of the stairs again, the bell at the bottom ringing loudly to signify someone coming. He expects Vaggie again, or even perhaps the Beadle at last. But to his confusion, it’s neither- Sir Edward Pentious stands in the doorway, his small assistant at his side and carrying a bag that was far too heavy for her slight frame and causing her to tilt to one side.
“Sir Pentious,” he greets cordially, “and… young lady.”
“I’m Niffty, sir,” she giggles, reaching a hand out to vigorously shake Lucifer’s. “Nice to meet you when you aren’t beating my boss in a shaving contest- and his shop is way nicer than yours too,” she directs to her employer, and he flushes a dark shade of red. “Are you sure you want to be a barber?”
“Niffty,” he hisses, and gently shoves her behind him. “I was hoping to speak with Mister Morningstar alone,” he directs to Alastor, who shrugs with a soft hum and leaves Lucifer’s side.
He meets Niffty at the door. “Well, aren’t you just a little wisp of a thing!” He says when he sees the bag she carries. He takes it from her hands and gestures her down the stairs. “Come along, I’ll see if I have anything adequate for you to eat…”
His voice and Niffty’s enthusiastic reply fade as they descend, leaving only Lucifer and the growing grin of Sir Pentious.
Again, a secret little 'so sorry, gotta do it' for the next chapter. Pour one out for Pentious y'all
Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6 🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9
#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#lucifer hazbin#radioapple#human lucifer morningstar#human alastor#sweeney todd#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#ily frau <3#God That's Good#GTG#slow slow slow burn#my stuff <3#so sorry my sweet snakey boy#but the plot must plot
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Dom Mysterio x Reader
Chapter Thirty | Where It All Started…
Dom was close behind me when I pulled the blanket over my lap and patted down the seat for the remote. He hadn’t even been home enough to enjoy the theater room. I was shocked he knew where it was.
“I’m talking to you. I know what fucking sounds like.” He pushed the door open so hard it shook me.
Twisting the cap off the whine that was missing a glass from the bottle I drank from the bottle.
“I bet you do. Liv finally got a redo on that night, good for her.”
He stood beside me, holding his arms to his body and trying to stay composed when I knew all he wanted to do was yell. “I can’t believe you. All that bullshit about not hurting each other anymore. So you go fuck Randy in our fucking bed.”
Another swig from the bottle, “It’s not revenge when it’s moving on.”
“I’m not moving out. Good luck moving on while I’m down the hall.”
“I already fucked him, Dom, and you were right outside the door.” I kept my eyes down as they welled up and my vision blurred.
“Fuck you,” was all he said before he left me there to wallow in my own misery.
Two Months Later
Dom was on the road less but every Monday night he was still all over Liv. Only this time it wasn’t tension, it was experience under their belt.
Randy would text or call here and there but after my cold shoulder he got the message.
My phone was propped up against the vase full of flowers while I chopped some vegetables talking to Finn when I heard Dom’s voice. Every part of me seized up and my ear perked up while my cheeks flamed up pink.
Dom: God I fucking love you. Judgement day runs Raw. Let’s go celebrate.
Finn cleared his throat announcing he was on a call when he pulled the phone closer to his face. “Don’t mind that. They just won their tag match.”
I placed another pill on my tongue and washed it down with wine when Finn scolded them over his shoulder. “Keep it down for fucks sake.”
Dom: Who are you always FaceTiming anyways? Your wifey?
Finn: No, yours. Oh, wait, you never actually purposed.
I watched Dom close in on Finn and his phone bouncing around instead of focusing.
Dom: Excuse me? What the fuck did you say to me?
Finn: Go fuck Liv the way you have been. I’ll take care of wifey.
The phone dropped, going black and eventually hanging up but not part of me sudden stopped being tense.
I spent all day in a daze thinking of Dom and hurting like it reopened a wound that never truly healed. Two hours later and a half of bottle of wine later Finn called me back.
As soon as his face came into view I gasped at the black eye he was sporting. “Finn. Omg.”
“It’s better than it looks. I’ll be fine. We’ve got a few days off to heal before camera. How many today?”
It was the same question everyday, how many drinks or pills today.
Rolling my eyes I drank from the bottle in perfect view for him to see. “Less today than yesterday. I’m numb until I hear his voice. Normally I spiral after.”
“Is he gonna be there for break?” Finn asked like I ever got notice of when he would be occupying the guest room.
Dropping my robe I slide under the covers of my bed. “No idea, we avoid each other when he’s home anyways. Nothing like a separation without the space. I’m gonna sleep before I get past buzzed.”
“Tomorrow let’s try to not drink at all. Behave, call me if you need me. I’ll be on a 9 hours flight back home.”
Kissing the camera like I always did I dropped my phone on the pillow next to me and flicked the TV on to fall asleep to. It was something I got used to doing so no one would hear Dom and I. Now it was a habit I couldn’t break.
Drinking myself dizzy I rotted away in my bed not expecting my phone to ring when I glanced over at the contact picture of Dom and I kissing. Scoffing I put my phone on speaker not saying a word.
Dom’s voice came over the line more angry than I anticipated. “Are you home? I’m in my truck now.”
I responded sarcastic as fuck: No, I’m clubbing.
My giggles filled my stomach with butterflies when his malice voice sliced right through. “Are you fucking drunk?”
“Why do you care? We broke up. You fucked Liv, I fucked Randy. End of story.”
Abruptly ending the call I laughed even more at how emotional he was for someone who moved on already. Paying no mind to him being on his way I fell into my drunk routine of finding a video of Dom and I, touching myself and falling asleep.
Under the blankets I shimmed out of my shorts and teased myself while the video came alive. We were in his sports car his dad gifted him in high school, my phone camera catching it all, even his hand smoothing up my leg.
The video escalated to me blowing him before we both crawled into the back for a quickie.
Letting the covers fall away, I rubbed my clit more aggressively when I felt so out of breath that my chest would cave in. I heard the front door close but paid no mind to since we’ve been ignoring each other.
Mistake number one.
“Are you fucking Finn? How many people I know do you have to fuck?” I heard his voice before I saw him burst through my door.
My eyes peeled open, widening and my hands yanked the covers over me entirely. “Are you kidding me? We aren’t together, you can’t burst into my room.”
“Shit. Sorry. Are you… fuck.” He didn’t look away the way I expected when suddenly a less sober version of myself thought it was entertaining to keep rubbing my clit in small circles.
“Dom! Get out!” I shouted, my words jamming up in my mouth and the wine finally settling in.
Turning around he stood in our room he no longer occupied. “I’ve fucking seen every inch of you… turning around is pointless. We need some boundaries. Anyone I work with if off limits. He’s fucking married.”
“Finn? We’re best friends. Platonic. PG.” I scoffed back holding the blanket under my arms while the room spun lightly.
Turning around with his arms folded he starred at me from a few feet away. “I’m not stupid and it doesn’t change that he’s married.”
Getting on my knees, off balance, almost falling face first I tugged up my shorts and climbed onto the covers before reaching for my wine. Shoving it forward I offered Dom some when he snatched it out of my hand to take a gulp.
He is married but it didn’t stop me from crushing on him like he wasn’t.
“He’s on a flight to see his wife. I’m not stupid either.” After a long pause I broached the silence, “How’s it going with Liv?” I asked even though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
He sat down at the end of the bed, on the bench. “More work than personal.”
Dom’s eyes shifted to me looking for my reaction when he handed the bottle back. Taking a swig I felt the butterflies in my stomach roar awake and the buzz only got more freeing.
“Three questions. No avoiding. You answer or drink… and you’re already drunk babe.” He said it like it was a game but we bother knew better.
“Neither of us play games to lose…” I sat back against the headboard and I felt my nipples get hard.
He got comfortable, kicking his Nikes off, “What happened after Randy?”
“You mean you weren’t watching me kick him out? It ran its course.” I gave Dom practically nothing to work on when I realized I could ask him a question. “Are you using condoms at least?”
He smirked looking up at me from his phone, “when I remember.”
“Dominik.”
“I’ve never been good at remembering condoms. She’s on the pill.” His voice was like silk even though it felt like a knife. “What’s going on with Finn? Enough bullshit.”
Pushing the bottle up to my lips I drank to avoid answering altogether.
Dominik stood up, reaching out the bed and snatching the bottle out of my hand. “You better be fucking kidding.”
Leaning back into the mess of pillows he followed me, placing the bottle on the night stand table before boxing me in. Hovering above me his brown eyes felt haunted as my voice dropped lower between our bodies. “Why do you care? He’s my friend, I’m not sharing hotel rooms with him.”
“Not hotel rooms but what else are you sharing?” His body skimmed mine when my back arched at the thought of him being jealous. “He’s married. Not kind of married. He actually is.”
“We were practically married but it didn’t stop you from fucking Liv.” My hips squirmed under him when his hands clasped over my wrists, forcing them above my head.
His knees came closer and the back of my thighs pressed against his legs. I could feel myself get wet for him without trying. “How far is it going? You fucking him? You touching yourself while you think about him? Feelings? I know you’ve told him shit about us. Enough to use it as a weapon.”
“Sometimes it goes too far. Is that what you want to hear?” I paused watching his head drop and the anger spark. “We aren’t together anymore, Dom.”
“Watch it. I have to work with him while you beg to fuck him. I have to witness all the FaceTime calls like you’re his. Now I have to deal with it at Mania too? Real classy.” Dom removed himself from me entirely and the empty feeling it left felt unbearable.
I sat up, “I’m not going to apologize for moving on. He’s my friend, nothing more.”
“A friend who wants to clearly fuck you. Wake up.” I looked at him confused and convinced it was a one-sided crush when he continued. “We need boundaries. We need a way to co-exist.”
“Like condoms?” I retorted back with a bitchy to my voice. “Like using them so you don’t knock her up after I lost our baby?” Standing up I walked to the bathroom feeling the weight of the liquor drop through me as I focused on my steps.
I could see Dom behind me in the bathroom mirror. Pressing him crotch into my ass I felt my body hum at his touch and my mouth gasp. His hand delicately moved into my thin pajama shorts, his fingers tickling my folds, and forcing my hands to grip the sink.
“I wouldn’t do that. I know what you went through… twice.”
“Once to protect your dreams and once I failed our dreams.”
A long pause later he shifted attention, “Baby, look how wet you are.” I knew he wasn’t ready to talk about it. We had lost two babies and that weight crushed our broken moral compass again.
Holding my shorts against my pussy, the seam pressed into me and against my clit I looked down at the wet spot visible now.
“Dom, I can’t. We can’t. I’m never going to get over you if we do this.” I begged but his hand found their way back to my sensitive clit.
Kissing my neck his voice whispered, “One last time baby. It’s been months.”
I was trying so hard not to moan at loud at his touch when I felt two fingers push inside me. “Dom. We can’t do this… you’re with Liv now.”
“I can go call Liv or… we can have the goodbye we never got to have. One last time baby. I need you. It feels like all the times when I would come home from training camps, the urge I couldn’t control. The way I had to hold you down and fuck you.” Dom’s mouth move against my ear and sent chills down my spine.
I watched him lick me off his fingers only make more of a mess between my thighs. “It has to be the last time, Dom. It’s just a goodbye fuck.”
I twisted around, facing him, both of us staring at each other like so much came between us and now we were forced to miss each other. “One last time, baby.”
Lifting me up in his arms, my legs wrapped around him as we fell into our old bed. Dom landing on top of me quickly pushed down his pants down his hips until every inch of his hard cock caressed my thighs. Both breathing heavily, eyes locked, “Dom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“We need a condom. I can’t get pregnant.”
His finger pushed the seam of my soak shorts to the side when I felt his guide his tip to my entrance. His fat tip sliding against my wetness and bumping my clit enough to force my grip on his arms to tighten.
“Hermosa, I’ll pull out. We did that for years. Don’t make me stop to find one. Please baby.”
My back arched and I felt every inch of him push inside me until my eyes closed. “Oh my god, Dom. Dominik.”
Hovering above me, all his weight in his hands, he started to fuck me and I felt like a mess. “That’s it, baby girl. Fuck. So goddamn tight.”
Our eyes locked again and my arms wrapped around his neck, forcing his face inches from mine. Without having to ask his mouth covered mine before we started making out.
Our tongues rolling against each other, Dom kept pushing every inch inside of me, picking up the pace and grunting into my mouth.
“Turn over baby. I wanna see it.”
I knew exactly what he meant when I turned over and pressed my ass into the air with his named tattooed in cursive.
Pushing back I rubbed my ass into his crotch and felt the sting of his slapping my ass. He knew a part of me would always be his, goodbye sex or not. He owned me.
But I never knew how much of him I owned.
Thrusting back inside of me he pressed his hips into my ass sending me closer to the edge. He was toying with me, making it last in a painful way.
Leaving me feeling empty between my legs he leaned against the headboard and waited for me to straddle his lap.
Pulling my tank off I crawled up to his lap and straddled him. His knuckles brushing my pussy as he guided himself inside me I gasped at the feeling once more.
Sitting on Dom’s lap I almost held my breath at how deep he was inside me. Still in his cut off shirt, my hands smoothed down his chest against the shirt material when I felt something hanging from his chain that wasn’t normally there.
“What’s that?” I asked with my eyebrows wrinkled and a gut feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.
Shaking his head he replied, “Nothing.” His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me forward on his lap in a way that had me gasp at the feeling.
Pulling his chair with the cross out of his shirt I saw an engagement ring hanging with it. My heart dropped thinking it was something for Liv.
Dominik’s head fell against the headboard and watched me finger the diamond ring. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s been yours.”
“This is a bad idea. We can’t have casual sex when nothing has ever been casual. Not since the day we met.”
His hands kept helping my hips ride him when he responded. “I fucked Liv one time. I haven’t moved on. I probably never will. You’re right, we’ve never been casual sex and just thinking of you catching feelings for Finn pushes me over the edge. Don’t take this from me baby. I need you.”
“You expect me to believe that? One time? Finn knows you share a hotel room.” He was pulsing inside of me and it was hard to get sentences out without needing to catch my breath.
“Just like that. Fuck. One time, the night you left after I kissed her. One time. You expect me to believe there’s no feelings for Finn?”
Dom let out a strained moan that skated down my spine, only making any decision to stop pointless now. “A crush. It’s just a crush. Why is this around your neck?”
“Same reason you’re calling it a crush, baby.” Dom started kissing my neck, muffling his moans when my phone vibrated against the bed.
Reaching for it to turn it off I saw it was Finn and my stomach turned. He is married, it’s just a crush, yet I felt like I was hurting him by riding Dom.
#dom mysterio#fanfic#fanfiction#wwe fanfiction#wwe#dom mysterio x reader#dominik mysterio#dominik mysterio fanfic#dom mysterio fanfic#dominik mysterio x reader
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𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙖’𝙨 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙆𝙕:
𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 7 — 𝙠𝙞𝙢 𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.4k
𝙖/𝙣: late but defo worth it…i really outdid myself for this one, OUGHHH IM SHAKING MY HEAD LIKE A FERAL DOG I NEED HIM—
𝙩/𝙬: angst to fluff, rough tickling and soft tickles mentioned, seungmin’s an asshole but he means well
𝒍𝒆𝒆: seungmin
𝙡𝙚𝙧: reader
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s 🐾
he only really lets you tickle him if he feels like he did something to make you upset
seungmin may act all cold and uncaring, but he’s really not 🥺
making him laugh always makes you happy, so he lets you
not that he doesn’t love getting tickled himself, but he’d never admit that.
“Why are you so cold all the time! I’ve been nothing but loving to you, and…and it feels like you don’t love me at all!” You screamed, tears streaming down you face, rivulets of your sadness dripping onto the floor beneath you.
Seungmin knew his expression would be as blank and uncaring as it normally was, but he didn’t know if it was his heart of his sanity breaking completely.
You sobbed and almost falling over, Minnie rushed to catch you, but you shoved him away.
“Don’t act like you care now!”
Seungmin knew he fucked up. Badly.
He could feel tears of shock and remorse welling up in his own eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to blink them away. Maybe he deserved this.
You grabbed your bag, stuffing your phone into it and slinging it over your shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Seungmin hated how his voice cracked, he felt weak and powerless.
You knew, Seungmin was your best friend, he may have seemed cold in the beginning but he truly did love you.
But what he had said to you was unforgivable.
‘Okay, you’re annoying. Stop calling me, I don’t have the time.’ His voice had sounded so cold, unfamiliar.
‘But, Seungmin.’ You coughed, spots swimming in your vision. ‘I’m really sick, I really need your help, please!’ You gasped.
Call ended. You had broken down sobbing right there and then, how could he say that to you, no emotion at all?
You had to drive to the hospital yourself, scared out of your wits to go alone, and had fainted right in the lobby.
Three hours later, he still wasn’t there, and your condition had improved. But you felt nothing but unrestricted numb, but all the pain in the world.
And now he was here, checking up on you and apologizing rapidly for being an ass, but nothing made you feel better, happier.
“I’m going home. I’m sick, and I need my medicine, if you didn’t know.” You snarled, shoving at him as he tried to hug you, tried to whisper more apologies into your ear. It just made you madder.
“You couldn’t do this when I needed you most.”
Seungmin stood there helplessly, and you only just caught the glint of his tears as you slammed the door shut.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Sobbing, you only needed one more thing before you broke down completely. Hearing the door unlock, you shot up to slam your door shut, but Seungmin was faster, pushing against the other side and overpowering your weak state.
You stood there, tears streaming down your face, two hands covering it. You could feel his arms wrap around your frame, frail and uncertain.
But once Seungmin asserted that you weren’t shoving him away, his arms pulled you into his chest, head coming to rest on top of yours.
You wrapped your arms around his waist, and he held your face in his hands, leaning down to press a kiss to your wet cheek.
Seungmin sank to the floor in front of you, grasping your foot. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please…don’t hate me!” Seungmin looked so broken, guilty.
You couldn’t help but forgive him right away. Staring for a few seconds, you decide to make your move.
“Minnie.” You giggle. “What are you doing?”
He looked dumbfounded. “What?”
“What are you doing on the floor—why are you grabbing my leg like I’m going to run away.” You snickered.
Seungmin paused for a few seconds, clearly thinking.
“I was gonna beg for your forgiveness.” He smiled up with you, grinning at the idea that he made you somewhat happier.
You sank down next to him, hugging him tightly. “Don’t do this ever again. I really needed you.”
Seungmin’s breath hitched. “I was being really crappy. It won’t happen again, darling.” He sniffled.
“But…you owe me.” You glared at him with a pout, and he scrambled to reply. “I’ll give you anything…anything you want!” He held both of your hands in his.
Gosh, he really was the cutest. Your best friend.
“Fine. Let me tickle you.” You smirked, making your fingers into claws.
“W-What?! Anything else, anything? Please!” Seungmin was already flustered, ears red and voice stuttering.
He never lets you tickle him, you only normally manage to get a gasp out of him before he turns the tables completely, and you’re the one who was laughing.
“C’monnn, you said anything~” You tease, and he slumped. “Fine.”
You squeal in excitement, running to grab your tie and your scarf. Seungmin flushed a deep red as you tied his hands high above his head to the headboard, and he squirmed in anticipation as you rested yourself on his thighs.
“You ready for the biggest wrecking of your life?~”
He blushed even more, squeezing his eyes shut before letting out a small whine. “Noho!” He was already giggling. How embarrassing.
“They say that you only truly hear a person’s laugh when they’re being tickled.” You smiled down at him.
“Just get it over with!” Minnie blurted.
“Mmm, fine. Let’s start here.” You wiggled your fingers along his neck, startling when you hear the cutest giggles you had ever heard in your entire life. “Aweee~”
Seungmin was pretty sure his face was the color of tomatoes at that point, giggling crazily as your nails tickled along his collarbone.
“How about…here?” You moved to his armpits, scraping up and down consistently.
“AGH!! P-Please…” He squirmed and tried to seal his lips, just to burst into laughter when you massaged the center of his underarms with your thumbs. “Nahah—HAHAHA!!”
“Your laugh is so cute!!~” You giggle along with him, a wide grin on his face that made you want to tickle him more.
“NONONO!!” He shrieked when your fingers moved to his ribs next. “NO—AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!” You jolted but smiled right along with him.
“PLEASE—! PLEASE SOMEWHERE EHEHEHELSE!!” Seungmin choked, and you moved further to his waist, digging into the skin before slipping your fingers up his shirt to tickle him more.
Minnie began to thrash wildly, cackles ringing through the room as his cheeks reddened cutely. ”AHHHAH IHIT TIHIHICKLES!!“
You knew exactly how to push his buttons.
“How do you think raspberries would feel?~” You crawl further down with a shit eating smirk, moving his clothing out of the way slightly to expose his bare tummy and his belly button.
Seungmin watched in horror. “W-Wait!! Don’t do raspberries…I might die!!” He pleaded, stomach quivering under your hungry eyes.
“But I want to…” You pout, and he giggled crazily as you trailed your nails along his cute tummy.
“Here goes!” You lowered your head, blowing a torturously ticklish raspberry onto his skin. You’d never done it before, but it must have worked, considering Seungmin’s pleading was drowned out by his hysterical laughter, the cutest smile on his face as he laughed himself silly.
“YAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASE IHITS SOHO BAHAHAHAD!!” Seungmin shrieked, arching his back and slamming it back down when you blew another into his v-line.
”MAHAHAHAKE IHIT STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” He begged, twisting away from the tickly sensation.
Minnie was practically going insane already, and you decided to finish off with one more so he didn’t actually die.
You decided to go all out for this one, pressing your lips to his cute belly button and blowing as hard as you possibly could.
Seungmin let out a raw scream before descending into the loudest laughter you had ever heard from him.
“PLEASE—PLEHEHEHEASE OHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” He howled, thrashing his head around crazily in his bound arms.
You let up after that one raspberry to his belly button, kissing it gently to calm him down as tears dropped into his collar. “Thahat was so brutal!!” He whined, and you fixed his shirt before climbing onto his heaving chest to untie him.
Seungmin squeezed out the last few tears and giggles before slumping immediately the second you fully untied him.
“You did so well for me…love you so much.” You pressed kisses to his wet cheek to rid the tears, pulling him into your arms.
You didn’t expect him to reply, but he did. “I love you more.”
You smile happily. “But seriously, you’re one of the most ticklish people I’ve ever seen.”
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