#normally it’s just the dread/deep anxiety that hits hard with this shit but this time I got the sobbing and feeling hopeless effect too!

[blood-ology]

Man, I sure love shows about the hopeless future of the earth in the face of capitalism and climate change (<- me when I fucking lie)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

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Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened. 

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness. 

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl. 

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something. 

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her. 

Her phone is gone. 

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again. 

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright. 

There’s no help from the others. 

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space. 

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking. 

Her phone is sitting on the desk. 

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity. 

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail. 

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this. 

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you. 

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.” 

“Was anyone following her?” She asks. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.” 

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders. 

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you. 

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She’s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now. 

“Laswell.” 

“Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence. 

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused. 

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.” 

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files. 

Now this. 

“Kate?” 

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.” 

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.” 

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence. 

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart. 

She should call them, make them aware. 

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files. 

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first. 

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find. 

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened. 

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long? 

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you. 

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it. 

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you. 

You know it’s not her behind it. 

She tells herself that to make herself feel better. 

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack. 

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her. 

That trust will be broken now. 

She left you alone, and now you’re gone. 

Or dead. 

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them. 

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks. 

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure. 

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure. 

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true. 

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up. 

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you. 

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone. 

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it? 

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly. 

It’s all premeditated. All of it. 

What if you’re out there distressing? 

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem. 

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment. 

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long. 

None of it is a coincidence. 

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too? 

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this. 

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events. 

Unless it goes even deeper than that. 

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name. 

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.  

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand. 

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.” 

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels. 

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit. 

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.” 

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.” 

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.” 

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright. 

Don’t let them find a body. 

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch. 

They’ll never trust her again. 

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering. 

“Kate?” Her voice shakes. 

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself. 

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.” 

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.” 

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better. 

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues. 

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel. 

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you. 

“At ease.” Woods says. 

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.” 

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says. 

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says. 

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says. 

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says. 

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says. 

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her. 

“Do they know?” She asks. 

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.” 

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says. 

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.” 

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone. 

It’s not fair. 

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment. 

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding? 

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing. 

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.” 

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight. 

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.” 

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe. 

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body. 

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin. 

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack. 

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position. 

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety. 

Especially if what she uncovered is true. 

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures. 

The last few hours have hardly felt real. 

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her. 

She still has a job to do. 

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat. 

“Kate, there’s nothing here.” 

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard. 

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says. 

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her. 

They’re all pawns. 

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable. 

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan. 

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.” 

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times. 

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles. 

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says. 

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.” 

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead. 

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours. 

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head. 

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.  

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.” 

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface. 

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm. 

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once. 

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room. 

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn. 

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate. 

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there. 

“Good girl.” 

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar. 

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it. 

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough. 

It’s not your alpha. 

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other. 

Except the one in front of you. 

Cedar. Dark Chocolate. 

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable. 

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor. 

Your pack. 

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha? 

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you. 

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right. 

Nothing is right. 

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you. 

You know that face. 

“There she is.” 

You know that voice. 

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be. 

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together. 

You know him. 

It’s been years but you’ll never forget. 

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin. 

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief. 

“Phil?” 

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[bloodycherry22]

Hello, can I request an Ellie x female reader fanfic? If you could add something about reader being confused because she thought she was only attracted to men, but she realizes that she feels something for Ellie too, it’d be great! You could totally add smut if you want, or do it fluffy, it’s up to you :)

I think? | Ellie Williams

Genre: fluff

Summary: While on patrol, everything starts to fall into place, the way her touch made you melt, the way her smile warmed your heart, it all made sense in that moment.

Warnings: Cussing, gayness? i dunno pure fluff, Ellie and reader are both pretty shy.

Thank you so much for the request lovely anon! Hope this is okay. Its pretty short and i merged another request of a food fight into this. requests still open <3

Not proofread

Kicking your boot lightly against the leather material sat upon your horse, you found yourself unable to focus, the sound of her breathe hitching lightly as the horse sped up in reaction to your touch. Her fingertips grasping on to the material of your thick coat, she wasn't even touching you and it still caused a shiver to run through your body. Winter had hit, and hard at that.

Ellie had been staying with you for a week or so, some houses having been snowed in and with the temperatures so low, and limited equipment, it was a slow process. The domesticated routine with her changed everything, it started to be your new normal, and you were beginning to dread the day her house was warm enough to live in again.

This morning, a new, thicker anxiety was stuck in your chest, having barely slept a wink the night before, deep in thought. About her, always her, she was keeping you up. Not physically, she slept on the couch, but mentally, its like she had taken over your life.

Sitting on a couch together now seemed different, the way her knees had brushed against yours underneath the thick blanket. You craved to be touched by her, loved by her. It was completely new, sending a slight guilt to your mind. You had never liked girls in the past so why now?

The sound of her voice managed to snap you out of your daydream as her finger gently tapped your shoulder. "stop here, last time i saw some supplies through the window" Her voice was shaky, presumably from the cold. Acknowledging her, you came to a halt. She carefully got off the horse and held her hand out for you, when you took it, it was hard to ignore the way she turned away and scrunched her nose ever so slightly, a light tint of pink along her cheeks.

It brought a nervous smile to your face as you hopped off, letting her hand go to tie up the horse to a nearby tree. "you think this winter will calm down any time soon?" you asked, turning to her, both of you walking towards the building, knife in hand, as i it had become muscle memory.

"why? sick of me already?" She snickered, sending you a smirk. With a scoff, you nudged her, quietly entering the building. No spores to be seen, it was quite ope, only appearing to have a few empty tables and a counter, It was most likely a cafe or restaurant of sorts. There was a single runner behind the counter, almost silently, you drive the knife into its neck before turning to her "not at all" you smiled.

She seemed content with your response before she put her blade away, already picking up some objects and examining them. "to answer your question, i think its only gonna get colder, we aren't even near the cold months yet" she sighed.

"months? since when do we keep track of the date?" you asked, examining some of the food dates carefully. She just chuckled "since maria found some old kids calendar" she said

"of fucking course she did" you laughed lightly, picking up a surprising item and holding it in the air "catch!" you shouted, throwing it. she caught the object, eyes flickering over it. It was a nutella jar. magically seeming unopened and safe to eat. She gasped "holy shit" she smiled, walking over to one of the tables and taking a seat. Within seconds you were beside her, with two old spoons.

Both of you quietly giggled as she opened the jar and took a spoon, dipping it into the jar and eating some of it. You did the same and both of you shared a happy reaction. "crazy to think they used to just have this stuff all the time, and all that fast food..so jealous"

You nodded and leaned back into the seat, sighing "jealousy" you whined dramatically and she laughed lightly in response. she suddenly dipped her finger into the chocolate and wiped some over your nose. you gasped and looked at her wide eyed "bitch" you did the same and she just scoffed "oh your on"

The next ting you knew you were both on the floor, laughing messes as she had the messier face, graciously you had her pinned down, straddling her waist, sure your hands were covered in nutella but her face was worse. Both of you panted softly and found yourselves staring into each others eyes. And there that guilty feeling was again, you shouldn't see her that way, but she just looked so pretty.

She seemed to grasp that you were lost in thought, nudging your knee gently to get your attention as she sat up. Now you were basically sat on her lap, thighs either side of hers. Her eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, licking her own as she did so. "Ellie i-"

"shut up" she mumbled and pressed her lips against yours, the anxiety bubbling away almost instantly as you leaned into the touch, her hands flying to your waist. After a few seconds she pulled back and looked at you, both filthy and giddy. She just laughed, so did you and the situation suddenly felt comfortable, like it was right, you did like her.. and that was okay.

[deliriousgeek]

She’s the Alpha (Owen Grady x Reader) .10

Masterlist:

Chapter 10

“That was a close one.”

“You open the gate, I’ll go in.” Owen hurriedly stated once he and Y/n came to a stop at the raptor enclosure. Without a moment’s hesitation, or a reply from Y/n, Owen began sprinting towards the gate. The concrete walls of the open enclosure did little to nothing to hide the snarls coming from within. Owen could hear Echo and Charlie calling to their older sisters, hopefully in an attempt to chide them away from ripping at each other’s throats. The sound carried over the concrete barriers, through the barred gates and into Owen’s ears. His heartbeat quickened and he felt his chest clench at every growl made. He could only imagine the damage Blue and Delta could have done to each other, praying to whatever higher being there was that he was wrong. 

The visceral sounds of the two sisters fighting could be heard from the car where Y/n stood.

Letting out a gasp of surprise at the threatening screeches, Y/n slammed her car door shut. “Are you crazy?” She shouted while running towards the man who was already putting protective armor to go inside the enclosure, “They might be babies, Owen, but they’re still raptors.”

Owen stopped putting on the armor for a brief moment to glance at Y/n, as if to contemplate her words before one of the raptors let out another snarl, a reminder of his needed urgency. 

As soon as the protective gear covering his arms, legs, and torso was completely strapped tight, Owen swung the first gate open and stepped inside. 

Y/n’s eyes widened as Owen locked the gate behind him. His eyes shot up to hers.

“To get all of us out of here safe, you need to do exactly as I say. Got it?” Owen’s brows furrowed.

Y/n wasn’t used to Owen’s gruff, stern voice. He had only ever spoken to her with a joking manner. In all the time they had known each other, Owen had never used such a commanding and serious tone. His voice dropped to a sound that Y/n could only describe as a deep chest voice. She supposed that would happen in a dire situation such as this. Stunned by the use of this new type of speech Y/n could only stare into Owen’s eyes as the noise of Blue and Delta fighting grew louder. 

She had taken a moment too long to reply.

“Y/n!” Owen snapped. 

His chest was now heaving with adrenaline. His girls were in there, fighting for goodness knows how long. Every second he spent out here could be a drop of blood, a tooth, a piece of skin or even a life lost. 

Y/n blinked at his voice raise. 

“I need all your focus right now. Can you do that?” Owen spoke again, this time with the same urgency but in a different, more gentle, tone of voice. 

A silent moment of understanding passed through them.

Y/n nodded. The adrenaline of the situation was now kicking into her veins. A new feeling of determination settled into her frame. Owen nodded a thanks before barking out the plan.

After quickly turning on the main lights, Owen could see the damage Delta and Blue had left to the enclosure. Dirt was kicked up, plants were crushed. Echo and Charlie could be seen in their respective cages, barking towards the center of the area. Following their line of sight Owen could see Delta and Blue circling each other, snarling, teeth bared, and snapping.

Blue had multiple scratch wounds on her haunches. They were bleeding and fresh. A bite mark could be seen just above Delta’s shoulder. It didn’t seem too deep, which brought a small ounce of relief to Owen’s vast pool of worry.

Owen stepped toward the main gates that led into the enclosure.

“On my count okay?” He called back to Y/n.

Y/n stared at the two sisters fighting, worry pooled in her eyes. “Okay.” She answered, in a just as determined tone.

“1,” Owen readied himself to run. “2,” Y/n let out a shaky breath as Owen counted down. “3!”

Y/n opened the gates and Owen ran into the enclosure, blowing a whistle and waving a piece of meat he had grabbed from the raptor’s feeding area. The two sisters halted their fighting upon hearing the ruckus coming towards them, turning their heads to look at the spectacle in front of them. 

The plan was that Owen would go inside the enclosure, distract the girls, then use the meat to lure them into their respective cages. Owen was now ten feet away from the adolescent velociraptors, their attention no longer on each other.

He let go of the whistle to grab another piece of meat from his utility belt. “Hey! Yeah that’s right, eyes on me.”

He began waving the two pieces of meat in the air. “You want some of this right? Not each other? C’mon, you can have it.”

The sisters looked at each other, before turning their bodies towards Owen. They began slowly slinking their way towards him, much like a cat would walk as it hunted its prey. 

Despite the fact that Blue and Delta only measured in about three feet in height, they still held an air of danger around them, and Owen had to remind himself that if he took one misstep, it could be the end of his life. 

“Alright girls,” Owen slowly led the raptors around their enclosure, back to their cages. “Okay, look at me Delta,” He waved the meat in front of her, “This is for you,” then he tossed a piece of meat into her cage. 

Delta’s eyes followed the movement of the meat from Owen’s hands to the floor of her cage before going inside after it. Y/n closed Delta’s gate as soon as her tail was in.

Owen’s eyes never left Blue’s. “Your turn now Blue,” Blue cocked her head to the side, “Work with me here okay? This one is yours.” Owen waved the meat, Blue’s eye flitted to the movement. “You want it? Go get it.” Owen tossed it into her cage. 

Blue immediately ran for it, instantly ripping the meat apart as soon as it touched her lips. 

Owen let out a sigh of genuine relief. The hard part was over. For now his girls were safe. Owen began walking towards the exit, at ease now that Blue and Delta were safe again. 

Y/n pushed the button to close Blue’s gate once she had run in. Once Y/n heard the machinery working to close the door, she let out the worried breath she was holding. She stepped away from the door control panels to smile at Owen, but her smiling dropped once she looked behind him. 

The noise the machinery had been making had stopped, which would normally indicate that the Blue’s door was closed. Only this time, the noise had stopped, yet Blue’s gate was still open. The anxiety that had left Y/n returned, and her eyes widened in dread. Blue had finished her snack, turned around, and fixed her eyes on Owen. 

Noticing Y/n’s change of expression, Owen arched a brow. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Y/n’s expression turned into horror as Bue began trotting out of her cage, then started to run. 

“Owen run!”

“What?” 

“RUN!” Y/n exclaimed again, rushing over to the door panel. 

Seeing the look of pure terror on Y/n’s face, Owen didn’t dare look back, but started sprinting towards the exit. Owen could hear the crunching of dried leaves under his feet as he ran. The trees lining the enclosure meshed into a canopy of green as he dashed by. He could hear the other velociraptor’s calling to each other. The sounds only egged him on to run faster. Owen’s heart pounded in his chest and its beating filled his ears. His heart beat mixed with Y/n’s screams and the look of pure terror on her face caused a surge of adrenaline to rush towards her and the gate. 

“CLOSE THE GATE!” He yelled once he was almost 10 feet away.

Y/n shook her head fervently. “Are you crazy?” She shouted back, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

“Just do it!” Owen replied as he almost neared the open gate.

Y/n’s eyes flitted between Owen and the gate button. She took in a quick breath, then pressed the button to close the gate. The gate then lowered as Owen neared, about 5 feet away. Y/n could still see Blue behind Owen. Blue was reaching her neck out, trying to close the 3 feet distance between her and Owen.

Owen calculated the distance between him and the nearly closed gate before deciding to jump into a dive. He tucked his legs inward as he hit the ground, rolling under the gate just in time for it to shut and keep Blue from biting him. Owen sat up, trying to calm his breathing. His back faced the shut gate. He could feel Blue’s let out irritated huff on the back of his neck, which sent an involuntary shiver of fear down his spine, before hearing her turn around and walk away.

Turning so his back was now facing the solid wall, Owen slumped against it. 

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply before speaking, “That was a close one.”

Y/n pressed her back against the wall too, closing her eyes and copying Owen’s previous actions, “Yeah. No shit.”

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 5: The Battle

Prev

AO3

“Absolutely not.” Jason says, crossing his arms, an offended look on his face. 

“Please!” Marinette begs, doing her best to show her anxiety without having to spell it out in front of Adrien. Although they’d only known Jason for a month, he was really good at reading their facial expressions and body language to see when they were upset. Marinette needed Jason to see that now. She needed him to take a Miraculous. He may work in security and have a bunch of battle training, but they’d still be going up against someone with magic. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate to hurt all of them to get what he wants. 

“Come on Jay, it’s just a bracelet.” Adrien says, his shoulders tense. Marinette takes in a deep breath, frantically shoving her panic deep down where hopefully it’ll stay until after the battle. 

“It’s not that it’s a bracelet, kid. It’s that I don’t need it.” Jason argues, much as he had for the past ten minutes. 

“If not for yourself, do it for them.” Wayzz says, speaking up for the first time. Jason shoots a weary glance at the kwami and quirks an eyebrow. 

“What d’ya mean?” He asks. 

“The Guardian wishes for you to use my Miraculous. I am the kwami of protection. When my wielder says ‘shelter’, they are able to cast a shield around both themselves and anyone nearby that they wish to protect. If you follow Ladybug and Chat Noir into battle with my Miraculous, you will be better equipped to help them in an emergency. That is, you wouldn’t have to choose who to save.” Wayzz explains. Marinette raises an eye at the last part of his rant, but it seems to solidify something with Jason. 

“Fine. Gimme the damn bracelet.” He grumbles, and even though he’s acting annoyed, Marinette can see the hint of relief in his eyes. So he was worried about being able to protect them. Marinette blinks for a moment. Even though he’d only know them for a month, he still seemed to care more than Master Fu did. Nothing against the man, he did the best he could but….it wasn’t enough. And that was painfully obvious the more time they spent training with Jason. 

“Jason- I just realized I don’t know your last name.” Marinette says, pouting slightly before shaking her head. “Whatever, Jason Dupain Cheng, Adrien don’t you start. You and I both know that you hate your last name so it just makes sense that we all take my name. Now shut your damn mouth so I can do this!” 

“Me-ouch.” Adrien mumbles, crossing his arms as he pouts. Jason snickers, but stops immediately when Marinette turns her glare to him. She smiles and nods, clearing her throat before starting her speech again. 

“Jason Dupain Cheng, this is the Miraculous of Protection. I am granting you this Miraculous to use in the battle with Hawkmoth. Once the battle is complete, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you?” Marinette finishes her speech with a small smile, one that instantly drops when she sees Jason snort. 

“I’m sorry Pix, but it’s weird to see you so serious.” Jason apologizes with a snicker. 

“I’m serious!” Marinette argues, tugging the box back away from Jason. “In fact, I’m so serious that now I’m taking it back. No bracelet of protection for you, ya meanie.” She adds.

“Isn’t that exactly what he wanted to begin with?” Adrien asks, making Marinette pause in her tug of war. Huffing, she shoves the box back at Jason. 

“Just put it on.” She grumbles, pouting when he snorts. 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He says, sliding the bracelet onto his wrist. Wayzz looks between the two, the Kwami’s face almost amused. 

“Hello.” Wayzz says, nodding as he bows at Jason. Jason just awkwardly waves. 

“Hey.” He says, his easy smile falling. Marinette starts to ask him if he’s okay, when she realizes. He’s worried. Of course he is. Now that he has the Miraculous, it’s time. They were going tonight to take Hawkmoth-Gabriel’s- Miraculous. This would all end tonight. One way or another. This was ending. 

---

This was ending. Soon. Gabriel is sure of that. It would not be ending in Ladybug’s favor though. On the contrary. Gabriel was certain that the insignificant bug wouldn’t make it past this final battle. The idea of Chat Noir facing the same fate made him falter slightly, if only for that small amount of time where he thought his own son held the ring. Although he no longer thought that, the idea of killing him was out of the question. Hurting him, though, that was perfectly acceptable. Especially if it meant he hurt that pest in the process. Finding a spell in the small bit of Grimoire he held, a spell powerful enough to penetrate the Miraculous suits, was not easy. The Grimoire wasn’t easy to read and was mostly filled with healing magic. But that wouldn’t help him. Not at all. Not like this would. Grinning down at his cane that now held a wicked glow, Gabriel-Hawkmoth- grinned. This will end soon. 

---

Taking in a deep breath, Marinette tries hard to ignore the dread settling in her stomach. Something is going to go wrong, she can feel it. And yet, it feels like it has to be tonight. That if they wait for another night, another day, they won’t have any chance to win at all. She had told both Adrien and Jason about the feeling, and both had encouraged her to do what she thought was best. They trusted her. And she was terrified that that would end up getting one, or both, of them hurt. Shaking out her hands to try and calm the energy bubbling up inside her, she watches Adrien’s window carefully. She had wanted the three to go in together, but Adrien had pointed out that he lived there. He could just open his window for the other two, allowing their entrance to be almost undetectable. Marinette hated it, hated feeling like she was using Adrien’s situation to their advantage, until Jason pointed out that- in the end- it was helping Adrien. Seeing the flashlight flicker- the sign that the coast was clear- Marinette swings over the fence and smoothly into Adrien’s room with Jason following closely behind. 

“Hey kitty.” She says softly, squeezing Adrien’s hand in an attempt to comfort him. 

“Hey bug.” He says softly, squeezing back. Jason hangs back, keeping an eye on the door while the two take a moment to gather themselves. This could be it. The end of a battle they’d been fighting since they were barely teenagers. Over three years of their lives was dedicated to protecting Paris, and that could be ending soon. Taking in a steadying breath, Marinette lets go of Adrien’s hand. 

“I brought Kaalki, like we discussed. They should be in your father’s office right now, looking for any incriminating evidence. If they find anything, they’re supposed to come get us so that we can go check it out ourselves.” She says their plan going as planned so far. A few minutes pass before Kaalki comes charging in, a disturbed look on the Kwami’s usually cheery face. 

“I found Hawkmoth’s lair.” They say, in lieu of a greeting. 

“Well shit. That’s the confirmation we need.” Jason whistles lowly, filled with a tension that wasn’t there before. 

“I kinda figured. I didn’t really have any hope left that it wasn’t him. So how do we get in there?” Adrien asks, setting his face with a determined look. 

“We use a portal. It’d be the easiest way of making sure Hawkmoth doesn’t hear us coming.” Marinette says, sliding the glasses onto her face and calling for the unified transformation. 

“Are you two sure about this? I could go in alone. I’m sure I could take him by myself.” Jason offers, his jaw obviously clenched. Marinette glances at Adrien, who nods, before turning back to Jason. 

“This is our fight, Jay. And as much as we appreciate your help, we have to be there too.” She says with a grim smile. Jason huffs, but nods. 

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. Let’s get this shit over with. I’m ready to go angrily punch a punching bag without being scared that I’ll wake up holding your Miraculous.” Jason says, making Marinette flinch slightly. She felt awful that Jason, like many Parisians, felt like they weren’t allowed to feel negative emotions. She knew how draining that was, how hard it was at the end of the day. And even past that, because you couldn’t even have negative emotions while you slept. But Jason was right. It’s time to end this, time to end the emotional trauma, time to end having to suppress feelings just to get by. 

“Voyage!” Marinette calls, silently stepping through the portal with Jason and Adrien close behind her. Silently calling off Kaalki’s transformation, she moves the horse Miraculous into her yoyo as she glances around the room. Butterflies, everywhere, an odd glowing and-

“Ah, Ladybug and Chat Noir. How kind of you to make a personal visit to deliver your Miraculous.” Hawkmoth taunts, twirling his cane around. Marinette’s eyes narrow as she looks at the cane and the very obvious blade sticking out of the bottom of it. 

“We’re actually here to ask for your Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Yours and Mayura’s. We know who you are, Gabriel Agreste. Give up now.” Marinette demands, her posture tense as she refrains from standing in a fighting position, instead situating herself so that she’s standing in front of her brothers. 

“I think you’ll find me to be someone unwilling to negotiate, Ladybug.” Hawkmoth sneers before lunging towards her with his cane. Tossing her yoyo at him, she manages to knock his cane out of his hand, causing him to rush after it. He picks it up and whirls around, a wrathful look on his face as he charges towards her once again. Their fight doesn’t last long before Mayura is suddenly there, a sentimonster at her side. Resisting the urge to curse out Nathalie, Marinette pours all of her focus into the battle. Between her own hits aimed at the sentimonster and dodging the neverending attacks aimed at her by Hawkmoth, it’s getting exhausting. But with Mayura and her sentimonster still active, it’s too soon to call any of their powers. Momentarily distracted by Jason taking out the sentimonster, Marinette doesn’t see Hawkmoth’s blade coming at her throat. But Adrien does. Being shoved harshly out of the way, Marinette stumbles slightly before glancing back at her partner. And letting out a horrified scream. A scream that’s drowned out by Adrien’s own agony filled scream. Because Adrien took the hit meant for her. And now Adrien Agreste was lying on the ground, sobbing, his eyes clenched shut. Why was he Adrien? Why was he in his clothes? Why is there so. much. blood. Falling to her knees, Marinette tries desperately to stop the bleeding. Ripping Adrien’s jacket off, she attempts to tie a tourniquet, barely able to hear Tikki’s voice in the back of her head. Cast the cure. Of course, the cure. The cure. Tossing up her yoyo, she attempts to cast the cure, screaming in frustration when the ladybugs only stop the bleeding. Marinette jumps up, glaring furiously at Hawkmoth who had frozen, a stricken look on his face. 

“You!” She screams, attempting to lunge towards him to kill him. Hurt him. Torture him and make him scream like Adrien currently was. Only to be stopped. Turning her head to glare at Jason, she realizes that he’s also frozen in place, cursing up a storm as he seems to fight his own body. 

“You son of a bitch!” He roars, his entire body tense as he fights against invisible binds. 

“Let me go, Tikki! Let me go!” Marinette screams, sobbing as she desperately tries to move, to do something. Kill the man and take his Miraculous. Because that’s what he deserves for hurting her partner. Her best friend. Her brother.

“Drop the transformation, goddamnit! The bastard deserves it! Fuck you, Gabriel Agreste!” Jason screams, obviously unable to remember the words for him to drop the transformation. Marinette has no such qualms. Opening her mouth to say the words, she sobs in frustration when she realizes Tikki has now blocked her from speaking. He deserves it! She thinks furiously, trying to get Tikki to agree to it. Wanting nothing more than to hurt this man, and hurt him good. There is no satisfaction when Gabriel takes both his and Nathalie’s Miraculous and sets them in front of her before backing off and sitting on the ground. There’s only anger as he tries to sit next to Adrien, who has since passed out from the shock, only to be scared off by a hissing Plagg. Staring at Adrien’s tear stricken face, contorted in pain even in sleep, and his- his arm, she realizes with a wave of nausea, that’s his arm lying next to him. She feels every single muscle tense as she continues to fight to break free. To beat the shit out of Gabriel Agreste. Even as her thoughts start to betray her. Even as she realizes….This was all her fault. 

Next

---

Tag List (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 

[witchiswriting]

All You Had To Do Was Stay

Summary: When you're obliged to take your cheating ex-boyfriend's class your first instinct to leave and ignore him for the rest of your life. But, maybe you could learn to live with it.

Warnings: Angst

It was the beginning of Spring Semester and the chilly March air was surrounding the campus. The trees started to colour, making a green and soft brown landscape all around the campus yard. You were holding your very hot coffee in hopes to warm yourself. It wasn’t exactly working but you couldn’t care less.

You were already feeling like this semester is going to be the worst period of your life, due to the break up you’d been going through since the fall break. You’d been dating one of your professors, professor Negan for 6 months, and the relationship ended in the most painful way just before the fall break.

You caught him getting at it with a blonde bimbo in his own apartment. He was drunk but you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. You thought you were being clear about this fragile subject. You already told him, at the very beginning of your relationship, ‘’One time and I’ll be done with you forever. No matter what your excuse is’’ you stated.

Now you had to go through it and the worst thing is Negan is teaching The English Romantics this semester, and you couldn’t change your course. The other professor who was teaching romantics was in maternity leave and this left you helpless.

You had no other choice but to attend this class. In fact, you were already five minutes late. Dreading to going into the building, your phone buzzed with the text of your friend, Kyra. She was informing you Negan was already in the class. You closed your eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He had a strict rule about being late and you wished that he could ignore you for once.

You slowly opened the door and started to walk toward the desk in the back. Fortunately, Kyra already saved a place for you. Of course, Negan noticed your late arrival but didn’t say a word. He was busy with arranging power points.

After you settled, he briefly glanced around and caught your eye, but you quickly averted your gaze. You had to convince yourself to not to skip this class but he was already getting under your skin without doing anything actually, and you couldn’t help but reconsider your decision.

You felt Kyra’s soft, supporting caress on your shoulder, she was your only friend who knew about your relationship with your professor. She accidently found out and, at first, you were afraid that she was going to spread the word sooner or later but she respected your wishes and was there with you during the painful nights for the whole fall break.

Negan cleared his throat and spoke with a firm, authoritative tone. ‘’There are few fucking things I don’t want in my class. Being late is a big fucking no no. I don’t fucking care if you got stuck in the traffic or overslept. Also, you can’t skip my fucking classes without a proper excuse. If you fucking tend to do that please drop this fucking course and wait for the upcoming semester. As any normal fucking professor, I’ll give you assignments for every writer we discuss. If you can’t get it ready until the fucking deadline, then I won’t fucking accept your goddamn paper.’’ he finished his sentence with a stern look on his face.

‘’Geez. What an asshole.’’ You heard the girl behind you muttering and it put a smile on your face. Kyra was giggling silently. ‘’He’s like the 21st century gestapo.’’ She joked.

Negan heard your giggles and quickly turned his glance to your seat, raised his voice again. ‘’Also, I don’t want fucking chit chat in my class.’’ It was like a little warning, especially for you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your little actions annoyed him and it slightly made you happy.

“What about the exam schedule?” A shy girl interrupted Negan with her question. Her voice was low.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Good fucking point. As usual, you’ll have midterms and finals but I’m gonna do tests after every subject we finish. They will take place between your midterms and finals. In fact, I’m about do fucking one for today.” He smirked and caught his lower lip between his teeth in a suggestive manner.

To Negan, it was pleasing to annoy students but, honestly, he was doing it because he didn’t feel like himself at that very moment. Seeing you for the first time after a month hit him hard. The fact that you were acting nonchalant toward him made his stomach clench. He literally fucked up and very much aware of it, but whenever he tried to reach you to talk, to apologize you took fewer steps back and he couldn’t blame you.

The students were growling and mumbling how ridiculous this is but you weren’t surprised at all. This was typical Negan, you had taken his Medieval English class before and that was how he did it. He usually does this tests to learn about the class' knowledge beforehand.

“Stop fucking whining. However, this test won’t affect your grades, cause I’m doing it to see how much shit you actually fucking know.” He already had papers in his hand. “It’s a fucking two parted test. The first one is about general knowledge of the writers, their novels etc etc. Now for the final test, you fucking need to write a little analysis for the little excerpt I fucking put on the paper. Good fucking luck.”

Luckily, it wasn’t something hard for you. You had a natural talent and interest in literature. All you had to do was pour your knowledge to the paper and get the hell out of this class, avoiding Negan for the rest of the week. Just as you were busy with thinking how you actually managed to dodge any kind of conversation with him the feeling of long, rough fingers touching your delicate skin interrupted your internal peace.

Negan was standing right beside you, handing the paper. You had no intention to look at him directly. Trying to avoid his spicy smell you loved so much and him altogether. You took a deep breath as he tried to touch your fingers without anyone noticing, but you were quick to pull your hand.

“Just fucking wait outside when you’re done.” He said with a barely audible whisper and moved to the other desk. Sure, the phrase was harsh but his thick voice was dripping with regret, you could feel it. Silently cursing at yourself, you were trying to keep your tears at bay.

As always, Kyra knew what was going on and ready to soothe you. “You don’t have to do a damn thing. You don’t owe this asshole anything.” She whispered with a tone only you were able to hear.

Her support and friendship formed a little smile on your lips. “Thank you.” you mouthed quickly. With a deep sigh you started writing down on your paper and paid your attention to the questions. Thankfully, Negan didn’t come near you during the test. He kept his place on the podium and threw a few glances to your seat but you quickly brushed them.

The test was pretty easy for you after finishimg it swiftly, you silently packed your surroundings and walked straight to Negan. You felt anxiety rising in your stomach. Hoping for him to just take your paper and let you go without saying anything to upset you more.

Negan wasn’t surprised to see that you were the first one to finish this test. He knew about your natural talent in literature, that was one of the reasons why he was affected by you in the first place. For the first time, he found someone whose interests were similar to him and he enjoyed your little chats about literature. That’s how he fell in love with you, too.

You cleared your throat, trying to wake him from his trance. “Here.” you said with an uninterested tone. Hoping to get out of this class as soon as possible. Negan hold your gaze without saying anything. He gulped heavily, his stress was apparent on his facial lines. He briefly closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were glassy.

“Please, Y/N.” Your name came out from his lips with a miserable tone. Without sparing him a second glance and another word, you left the class with stern steps.

For a moment, you considered waiting for him, curious about what he had to say but your logical side beat your feelings and you turned your back, walking toward the gate.

Deep down you knew you had to talk to him at some point. You were taking his class and couldn’t avoid him forever. Maybe, all you had to do was stay and wait for him, but you couldn’t find it in you today. After all, he made his bed and he had to lay in it.

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden (Chapter 3)

Return to Chapter 2.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 3

“Slow down, Y/N,” Taehyung spoke calmly as he watched you pace manically around the kitchen island. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

You looked back at him, almost stunned. You hadn’t realized how fast you were moving or how little sense you made as you tried to recount what happened.

“Sorry,” you said, sitting promptly down at the island as if you were a child scolded into sitting down for dinner. Taehyung felt himself exhale as you did, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back against the sink.

“Take a deep breath, then tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”

You did as he asked, taking a long breath through your nose before you began.

“After I saw you yesterday, I came home. Ezra came home at about nine.”

I know, Taehyung thought to himself. He hadn’t told you yet that he followed Ezra to your home last night. Even though it was his job, something in him didn’t want to tell you. He didn’t want you to know he watched your home and broke into your car while you were probably busy fucking your husband.

“What did you do?” the question slipped from his tongue before he could stop it. Confirmation wasn’t something he was sure he wanted, but Ezra was allegedly missing, so he needed to know.

You shuffled uncomfortably in your chair. “Nothing,” you replied, but it was clear to Taehyung that whatever had transpired last night between you and your husband, you weren’t willing to share with him. “We just… hung out for a bit.”

He bit the inner of his cheek as a bolt of jealousy knotted his stomach. “Was he acting strange at all?”

You thought hard for a moment as you replayed the whole evening over in your mind. Taehyung studied your face and your body language for any sign that something was amiss. “He brought me flowers,” you finally shrugged. “Which isn’t all that abnormal. The only thing that was strange was when he got up to leave.”

“What happened?”

“It was about one… one-thirty in the morning. We were about to go to sleep, and he said we needed milk for coffee in the morning, so he was going to run to the corner store to get some.”

“Does he normally do that?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean, not in the middle of the night.”

“Did you ask him to stay?”

“Yes. But he insisted. Said he wasn’t tired and wanted some fresh air. So, he jumped in the car and then he left.”

“The store… around the corner?” Taehyung asked quizzically as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction where he remembered seeing the small convenience store. “He drove there?”

You nodded. “It’s only a minute from here so I figured he was just going to walk. We always walk there. But, he took the car.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

You shook your head. “He hasn’t come back.”

“Is there a chance he came back while you were sleeping?”

“No,” you near laughed in both exhaustion and frustration. “I haven’t slept. I went to the store - his car isn’t there. I called his work - they said he never came in. I called the police…”

“What did they say?”

“They asked me to go down to the station and file a missing persons report.”

“Ok,” Taehyung nodded, but the unease he felt was palpable to you.

“Was that a bad decision?” you asked him concernedly.

“No, no. That was the right thing to do. They can check hospitals, impounds, all those things quickly. We should do that first, then go from there.”

 

Thirty minutes later, you were seated in the passengers seat of Taehyung’s old, crickety, gold Buick Century. He had done his best to wipe the seat clean of food crumbs and dirt before you got in, but couldn’t help the sense of anxiety he felt letting you into his car - knowing you’d catch even the tiniest glimpse of what he and his life was really like. He apologized for the air conditioning not working, but at the same time was relieved you’d have to drive with the windows down to flush out any scent the car had which he had become immune to. You didn’t seem to care - or barely notice - your mind was elsewhere, whirling with the possibilities of what had become of your husband.

Zipping down the highway, Taehyung’s dread increased too as the turn for the police station was fast approaching. Even though work had brought him there many times since he left the force, he never got use to the unease he felt walking through those doors and facing his former colleagues. Especially today, with you by his side, all he could hope for was that you two could make it in and out without any awkward conversations with the stations servants.

He looked up at the green sign indicating the next exit, and that’s when a thought hit him. He flicked on his blinker and pulled into the exit lane. You noticed immediately, turning your head from the window to look at him.

“Where are we going?” you inquired.

“I just wanna check something first. It’s on the way.”

“What?”

“The train station.” You didn’t say anything, but Taehyung knew he should explain himself regardless. “Were you and Ezra planning on taking a trip to the coast?”

“What? No,” you furrowed your brows.

“Does he have any friends or family out there?”

“Noo…” you answered slowly as you thought. “What is this about?”

“He bought two train tickets. They were dated for next week, but… I thought maybe you were planning on taking a trip. Or he was going to surprise you with one.”

“You… think he left town?”

“I don’t know, but let’s just see if we can spot his car.”

You went quiet again. Taehyung sat on the edge of your silence, praying that the next time you opened your mouth you wouldn’t ask him how he knew about the tickets. But you never asked. Instead…

“He must’ve taken her” you whispered.

“Huh?”

“He had two tickets you said. Maybe the second one wasn’t for me. Maybe he is seeing someone else. Or he is leaving me.”

The car went quiet. Taehyung thought about how to respond to you - even though he didn’t believe it to be true, it was possible Ezra had left with another lover. But he also knew that giving credence to your suspicion was selfish and self-serving. He would love nothing more than for you to find a reason to hate your husband, free yourself of him, and make Taehyung the focus of your vindictive revenge and rebound. But, on the other hand he knew it would hurt you just the same, and this was one of those rare occasions when he cared enough not to want that. So instead, he kept quiet.

“Okay,” he sighed as he pulled into the station’s parking lot. “See if you can spot the wagon.” He turned right, following the flow of the lot, winding along the rows of vehicles at a turtles pace to be sure you both had time to check each one out.

“There!” you startled him when the car made a turn for a final lap near the back of the lot. Taehyung looked the direction you were pointing. He squinted at the license plate, recognizing the numbers and letters. Luck would have it that there was an open space just a few slots down, but he had barely managed to reach a full stop before you had jumped from the car and taken off in the direction of Ezra’s station wagon.

“Shit!” he heard you snarl as you pulled on the wagon’s door handle. “I didn’t bring the spare keys!”

“It’s okay,” Taehyung called back to you as he reached into the trunk of his Buick and once again pulled out the rod hook. You eyed the tool in his hand as he confidently strode towards you and the car and in a flash jimmied the door open. Taehyung looked back to you, noticing the astonished but impressed expression on your face. “What?” he smirked before he climbed over the seat and popped the glove box. You sauntered over to the passengers side and opened the door to watch him syphon through the contents.

“He has the tickets,” Taehyung deduced after he finished checking through the papers twice.

“What do you think he did with them?”

“Maybe he exchanged them? For a trip today?” he pulled the lever for the trunk and made his way around back. You followed him, holding the broken door open for him while he searched. “Nothing,” he noted when he was done.

“Can we check with the workers inside?” you asked. “See if they recognize him or can tell us where he went?”

He nodded slowly. “It’s a busy day. We don’t know what time he left, who was working at the time or even what CCTVs to check - if they even give us access to them. We might need to file a report and get a warrant first. By then, his trail might go cold…” He continued listing off all the obstacles and difficulties you would face for what seemed like a simple request. He didn’t do it to hurt you, or to snap you into some sort of reality about what the world of private investigating was really like. It was simply his absentmindedness; his mental checklist, just spoken aloud. But part way through he looked back to you to find defeat and disappointment wither at your features with his every word, and he realized that poor bedside manner he had been accused of so many times before had made an appearance. “We’ll do it,” he said as confidently and as reassuring as he could. “Today. It might take the rest of the day, but we’ll do it. I promise. We’ll figure out what is happening.”

Your eyes lifted back to his and you smiled. It was meek - not bright the way you smiled when you first met him. But for some reason, this smile he liked better. There was something behind your eyes this time that didn’t say “It’s nice to meet you.” This time they said “I trust you.” It was enough to make his heart flutter the way it hadn’t before, and enough to pull at the corner of his lip to mirror your smile. But then, with a heavy thud that sounded nothing shy of a clap of thunder in his skull, the world went black.

 

The muffled sounds of… something?… voices?… moving furniture?… sounded distant at first, but with each passing moment became slightly more clear in Taehyung’s ears. He blinked once, which was enough to trigger the pounding headache he felt which originated from somewhere on the back of his head. He winced and let out a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Taehyung!” he thought he heard from beside him. He blinked open his eyes to try to gauge his surroundings, but his vision was fuzzy and skewed. “Taehyung?” he heard again from what sounded like a woman’s voice. Where was he? What happened? Why did his head hurt? He felt like he was waking up from a hangover after night of drinking. Sore, disoriented, tired, and the sound of his one-night stand ready for a morning round he wasn’t sure he’d be able to oblige. Except, he wasn’t in a bed. He was in a chair.

He opened his eyes just wide enough so his vision could start to clear, but to also keep the pounding in his head to a minimum. He was in a room. He couldn’t recognize it. There was a figure standing before him… maybe two… or three?

“Taehyung,” he heard again, and this time it was something he recognize. It was your voice. You were to his right. He turned his head and stared in your direction, waiting as his vision finally cleared and you came into focus. You were in a chair, just a foot away from him. The first thing he noticed was your eyes. They were wide, alert, swirling with both fear and relief. Then he noticed the pattern of dark that had dripped along the side of your face. He squinted at it, unsure of what it was until he suddenly knew… blood. If was dried now but you had clearly been bleeding. That’s when he noticed the zip-ties around your wrists, binding each arm to the armrests of the chair in which you sat. Instinctively he reached for you, wanting to come to your aid, but with a sting around his own wrists and the scraping of the chair legs beneath him, he realized that just like you, his hands too had been bound to his chair.

“Fuck!” he shouted as everything made some sort of nonsensical sense. The memory came flooding back to him. You were together - in the parking lot of the train station. You were searching Ezra’s car, when all of a sudden he woke up here. Someone must have clubbed him - knocked him out cold. Probably clubbed you too, before they brought you both here, and now you were being held captive. “Fuck! Are you alright?” he near shouted this time, well aware of the dire situation you were both in now.

“I’m fine. I’m okay,” you managed to reply, keeping your tone soothing. It made him angry. You weren’t fucking fine. You would be ‘fine’ if you weren’t bleeding from your skull and bound to a chair in whatever Godforsaken place you were in now. But, you were strong and it pissed him off that you had to be.

“Ahem,” someone in the room cleared their throat. Taehyung turned in its direction to find that he was right - there were three other figures in the room. He could see them now. A burly man - clearly there as muscle; a second man, not as big but from the way his skin was weathered and scarred, he clearly had seen some shit; and finally, a woman, middle-aged, decorated in too many gold bangles and too much cheetah print. Her hair an unnatural shade of red, tied up with a matching cheetah print scarf, it was obvious she was the breadwinner and leader in the room. Taehyung glared back at her, but she was unphased. Clearly this wasn’t her first time tying people up. He wanted to swear at her, call her a fucking cunt, demand and explanation then demand that she release them. But he didn’t. He knew that’s what she wanted and he wanted nothing more than to deprive her of that simple pleasure. So instead, he engaged in her staring contest, until finally she bored of the charade and took a seat in front of the both of you.

“Let’s start with who you are,” she said as she crossed her legs and her gaze flickered between the two of you.

“You’re the one who brought us here,” Taehyung replied. “We should be asking you.”

“I’m Mina,” she answered without hesitation.

“Do you make it a habit of abducting strangers, Mina?” he didn’t care to hide his annoyance in his tone.

“Only when necessary.”

“And why are we necessary?”

She stared him back, clicking her long, polished fingernails as she thought about what to say next. “Why were you searching that car?” was what she settled on.

“It’s my husband’s car,” you spoke up for the first time. Taehyung internally winced as you did. The pieces were coming together to him slowly, and he didn’t want you revealing anything that would put you in danger.

“Your husband?” Mina exclaimed. “You’re Ezra Moon’s wife?”

Taehyung could feel your energy shift as Mina spoke your husband’s name. You were unnerved and confused as to why such a person would know him, in any capacity, nonetheless as familiarly as her tone implied.

“Don’t speak to her, speak to me,” he interrupted before you would reveal anything more.

“And who are you exactly?”

“I’m a friend.”

“Well. This is all very interesting, and very… convenient…” she trailed off in thought. Taehyung didn’t like it at all.

“It’s your turn,” he said, breaking her from her thoughts. “Tell us why we’re here.” One of her henchmen glared at him as if his question was insubordinate, but she paid no mind.

“Well, Taehyung, that answer is simple. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, turns out that’s a good thing for me. You see, Ezra was supposed to show up this morning for a job, but he never did. And this job was of particular importance for us, and for him… and for you…” Mina turned her head to face you. Taehyung could feel his face begin to heat. His eyes darted between the two of you and he watched as your aura shuffled uncomfortably between confusion and fear. You didn’t know what Mina was referring to, but to Taehyung it was clear that whatever job Ezra was involved in had nothing to do with his day job of installing glass.

“I don’t understand. I’ve never met you before,” you replied.

Mina stared at you for a moment, but soon a wicked smile began to split her face. “That’s right…” she said, her tone salacious and taunting. “You’re that woman. That’s why he never told you…”

“Cut the shit,” Taehyung interrupted again. “We don’t want to be here all day. Tell us what the fuck is going on and what the fuck you want.”

Smack, came the sound of a fist across Taehyung’s jaw. The henchmen had enough and decided a good punch was what Taehyung needed to stay in line. He heard you gasped beside him. This wasn’t Taehyung's first time to be clocked, but the pain was just the same. Still, he didn’t want to give the henchmen the satisfaction of knowing, nor did he want to worry you. He flexed his jaw, ensuring it was still in place as it should be, then raked his teeth with his tongue for any taste of copper. Mina once again seemed indifferent, but the henchmen looked to her anyways for a sign that he could deliver another blow.

“Don’t!” you cried out as the burly man raised his fist once more. “Please! We don’t want any trouble! Please, just tell us what you want!” Taehyung braced himself for the next hit, but lucky for him your plea seemed enough for Mina to shrug him away.

“I’ll cut to the chase then,” she said as she shifted in her chair. “Your husband works for me. He has for years - long before you met.”

“You own Stintsons?” you asked slowly, confused since you thought you knew better.

Shit, Taehyung’s mind suddenly screamed as he remembered why he knew that name. Stintsons… they’re the construction company for… Ezra is a mobster.

 

[prouvaireafterdark]

Honey, If You Stay

Enjoy the next installment of my Michael Sanders AU, set sometime between Caught in the Moment and A Father Like That 💜

Also on AO3!

***

Michael has only just put his bedtime reading on irrigation systems on the floor beside his bed and turned in for the night when his phone buzzes loudly on his bedside table. He reaches for it immediately, unplugging the charger so he can pull it closer to his face. He has a single text from Alex, and another comes through as he’s opening it.

Are you awake?

Please tell me you’re awake.

A heavy feeling sinks into Michael’s gut as he reads the words—something doesn’t feel right. He quickly types out his reply.

Yeah, are you okay?

Alex’s reply comes not from his phone, but in the form of a soft knock on his bedroom window. Michael looks over to see Alex standing outside, drenched by the rain that’s been pouring down all night.

Michael leaps from his bed and rushes to the window. He opens it as far as it’ll go and Alex climbs inside. He reaches for Michael immediately, burying his face in Michael’s neck and breathing deep. Michael wraps his arms around him tight without a care for how wet he gets, anxiety buzzing under his skin.

“What happened?” Michael asks him.

Alex just shakes his head and holds on tighter. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Dread fills him even more, but as Alex shivers in his arms, Michael decides to shove that down and focus on warming him up—he knows what happens when humans stand in the rain too long and he doesn’t want Alex to get sick.

“You’re freezing, come on,” Michael says, tugging Alex toward his bedroom door.

Alex lets Michael lead him out of his bedroom and into the bathroom down the hall. He leans listlessly against the sink while Michael turns the shower on, holding his hand under the spray until he feels it reach a good temperature.

When he turns around, he sees Alex watching him with a complicated expression on his face. Now that they’re in the light, Michael can see he’s not wearing any eyeliner like he usually is. He isn’t sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it—Alex is dripping water all over the floor and he still needs to grab him something dry to change into. He just hopes he has a clean pair of underwear for him—he’s been putting off laundry day a little too long.

“Water should be warm enough now,” Michael says as he heads toward the door. “You can leave your wet clothes in the sink, I’ll wash them with mine tomorrow.”

Alex reaches for Michael’s hand as he’s about to leave. He catches him around the wrist, his fingers digging into his skin a little desperately. Michael turns around to look at him and finds Alex’s eyes glassy and wet, his breathing shallow.

Michael backtracks until he’s standing right in front of him again. Alex’s breathing starts to calm when Michael touches him, moving his free hand up to cradle Alex’s cheek delicately in his palm, so Michael leans in to kiss him, soft and sweet, offering him the only comfort he can think to give.

It works, Alex’s grip on his wrist loosening in relief.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Michael tells him when he pulls away. “I’m just gonna get some pajamas and a towel for you.”

Alex visibly swallows before he nods.

Michael presses another gentle kiss to his cheek before he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He sneaks back into his room and grabs his last clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt from his dresser before slipping into the hall to get a couple of fresh towels from the linen closet. When he reenters the bathroom, he finds Alex already in the shower. His clothes are piled in the sink, and his muddy shoes are on the floor near the cabinet.

Michael throws a towel on the floor and uses his foot to haphazardly wipe up the mess before he sets the clothes down on the closed toilet seat cover. He’s just hanging the towel up on the rack by the shower when the curtain pulls back and Michael looks over to see Alex peeking his head out, the color in his cheeks a healthy pink.

“You gonna join me?” Alex asks, and there’s a subtle, flirtatious twist to his lips that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It makes Michael hesitate, but if Alex wants him close right now, he can’t think of a single reason he should deny him.

“Yeah,” Michael answers, reaching back to strip off his shirt. He lets his bottoms pool at his feet before he steps into the shower.

As soon as he’s inside, Alex crowds him against the shower wall. The tile is cool against his back, a dizzying contrast to the heat of Alex’s hands on his hips and the hot water beating down around them. He feels Alex’s lips on his then, and his skin is soft as always, but he’s anything but gentle as he covers Michael’s mouth with harsh, biting kisses.

Michael usually loves it when Alex kisses him like this, loves to feel how much Alex wants him, how desperate he is to have him, but this… this feels different. It feels a little like Alex is trying to disappear inside his mouth, and it sours the pleasure coiling in Michael’s belly.

Alex didn’t stand in the rain for a fun midnight hook up, he reminds himself. Something’s wrong.

“Alex,” Michael gasps, tilting his head to get the space to speak, but Alex doesn’t stop kissing him. The grip on his hips tightens as he moves down Michael’s jaw to his throat. He sinks his teeth into the join of Michael’s neck and shoulder, and under normal circumstances Michael would find that brain-meltingly sexy, but right now it just makes the pit of his stomach drop. “Alex, stop, look at me.”

Alex does, his chest heaving as he wrenches himself away like he’s been burned.

“Shit, I’m—I’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes wide and devastated as he tries to put some distance between them, but Michael doesn’t let him go far, reaching for his waist to pull him back in.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Michael assures him, rubbing his palms against the smooth skin of Alex’s sides. “I’m not mad, it’s just—you’re upset.”

Alex looks away, swallowing hard.

Michael raises his right hand from Alex’s waist to tip his chin up until he can look him in the eye again. “What’s going on?” he asks, voice pitched low and soothing despite how unsettled he feels.

They stare at each other for a long minute, the hot water raining down upon them, before Alex’s eyes fill with tears and his face crumbles. Michael catches him as he pitches forward, his right hand immediately going to the back of Alex’s head while his left loops around his waist to hold Alex securely against him.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s okay,” he whispers in Alex’s ear, rocking him softly as he sobs into his neck. Alex’s hands slide uselessly against Michael’s skin as he tries to grab onto him, his chest shuddering with each breath he takes. Every gasp, every sob, every whimper is amplified in his ears by the acoustics of the shower, and Michael’s heart fucking shatters for him. He’s never seen Alex cry like this before. “You’re gonna be okay, baby, I promise,” he says thickly, his own eyes burning with tears. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Alex doesn’t cry for more than a few minutes, but it’s long enough for the shitty water heater they’ve got to run out of hot water. Michael turns the shower off quickly in those precious few seconds before it turns from tepid to ice cold and reaches for the towel on the rack by the shower.

Michael towels Alex off first, starting with his hair and then moving down his body. Alex leans into him a little as he does it, allowing Michael the freedom to touch him however he needs to to get him dry. The intimacy of it strikes him—Alex is usually relentlessly self-sufficient, and Michael hasn’t been naked with anyone without some form of sex being involved since he was old enough to shower by himself. It feels important somehow, like they’ve reached a milestone, or a turning point maybe. Michael’s heart aches at how much Alex is trusting him right now.

“Go get dressed, okay?” Michael tells him once he’s finished. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay,” Alex croaks and steps out of the shower.

Michael gets himself dried off as quick as he can and pulls on the clothes he’d been wearing before.

When they’re both fully clothed, they tip-toe into Michael’s bedroom. Alex climbs into Michael’s bed without a word, his back facing him. Michael slides right up against his back, and pulls the covers over them both. He nuzzles his face into the back of Alex’s neck and secures his arm tightly around his waist.

They’re both quiet for a long time, the only sounds to be heard their breathing and the soft patter of rain against the roof. Michael wants to ask him what happened again, but he doesn’t. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. There’s only one thing Michael needs Alex to know before he loses him to sleep for the night.

“I love you,” Michael whispers, pressing a kiss to the spot behind Alex’s ear. “Whatever’s going on, I love you, and I’m here for you. I’m right here.”

Alex doesn’t respond, but Michael can hear his throat click as he swallows, so he doesn’t think he’s fallen asleep. A moment later, Alex reaches down to entwine their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to rest against his chest, right over his heart.

Michael thinks that’s the end of it, so he drops another kiss to the back of his head and closes his eyes. He’s just on the edge of sleep when he finally hears Alex speak.

“He hates me,” Alex says, so soft Michael barely hears it, but it sends ice shooting through his veins all the same.

Michael doesn’t need to ask who he means. When Alex doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “Did he hit you?”

Michael’s suspected for a while that Alex’s dad beats him, but Alex always shrugs him off whenever he brings it up. He’s never actually seen any marks on him to prove it either, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Michael wasn’t in the foster system for long, but it was long enough for him to learn that there’s plenty of ways to hurt people without leaving any evidence.

Alex huffs a bitter laugh. “He didn’t need to.”

Michael pulls him back against his chest a little more firmly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, not knowing what else he could possibly say to make Alex’s pain disappear.

Alex lifts their joined hands toward his mouth so he can kiss Michael’s fingers and keeps them there. The position is a little awkward for Michael, but he’d rather cut off his own arm than move an inch.

“I just don’t understand,” Alex continues a moment later, his voice sad and frustrated. “Flint can fuck around and get a pat on the back for pulling C’s in every class, but I get one fucking A- and he’s tearing apart my room and making a bonfire out of my posters? Why is nothing I do ever good enough? Why doesn’t—“ Alex cuts himself off abruptly, swallowing the emotion thick in his throat. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

An aching fury unlike anything Michael has ever known rises inside him; he wants to scream, wants to cry at the unjustness of Alex—the beautiful, wonderful boy who has shown him nothing but love and kindness as long as he’s known him—having a father capable of such cruelty that he would make him feel so unloved. Michael’s vision blurs with tears, but it’s not his pain that matters right now, so he bites his bottom lip harshly between his teeth to keep from crying out until he regains his composure enough to answer.

“Because he’s a psychopath who doesn’t even deserve to know you, Alex,” Michael says.

Alex sighs, but otherwise doesn’t react.

“How often does he do stuff like this?” Michael asks, fearing the answer.

“Often enough,” Alex says, and he’s vague enough that Michael gets the feeling this happens far more often than Alex has ever let on.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael asks, trying hard not to let it come out like an accusation. He’s relieved when Alex doesn’t take it as one.

“I don’t like thinking about him when I’m with you,” Alex answers.

“What about Liz and Maria? Do they know?”

“A little,” Alex says. “They walk on eggshells around me whenever I say anything, which is really fucking annoying, so I don’t tell them much anymore.”

“So you just deal with it all on your own?” Michael asks, rubbing his thumb against the back of Alex’s hand.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs. “Always have, I guess. When it gets bad, I just go to the shed behind my house to be alone.”

“But not tonight,” Michael comments.

“No,” he says softly. “Not tonight.”

Michael lets that hang in the air between them for a moment before he asks, “What changed?”

“I, um…” he says, voice wavering. He sniffles when he pauses. “I just needed you, I guess.”

Michael’s chest clenches at Alex’s admission, and he presses a soft kiss to the back of Alex’s neck. He’s about to tell Alex how mutual that need is, but Alex starts to speak again.

“And I didn’t…” he says, his voice soft and hesitant like there’s something he needs to vocalize, but isn’t quite sure how.

“Didn’t what?” Michael prods gently.

“I didn’t feel safe there, with him still in the house,” Alex admits after a brief, pregnant pause and, fuck, Michael wants to cry again.

“You’re safe here,” Michael assures him, a desperate edge to his voice as he draws his arm tighter around him. “You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me, Alex.”

Alex is quiet for a few seconds before Michael hears him sniffle. “I know,” he whispers. “But I’m not always here, am I?”

“You could be,” Michael insists, untangling his fingers from Alex’s to move his hand to his shoulder in an attempt to make him turn around. When he doesn’t budge, Michael slides his right thigh over Alex’s hips and lifts himself over him so he’s lying in the narrow space between Alex and the wall. Alex won’t quite meet his eyes, so he tips his chin up with a gentle touch. “I’m serious, Alex. Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

It’s dark in his room, but Michael thinks he can make out a wistful expression on Alex’s face as he sighs. Michael waits for his answer with bated breath.

“I can’t do that,” he says finally, shaking his head. Michael tries to fight off the hurt his answer brings, but it’s easier said than done.

“Why not?” Michael asks.

“Because if he finds out where I am—and he will—he’ll hurt you, and I can’t—that’s not an option, no matter how bad things get,” Alex explains. “I can’t risk you like that, Michael. I won’t.”

“And, what, you think I can risk you? You just told me you don’t feel safe in your own home, Alex,” Michael says, his frustration growing. “Why won’t you let me protect you?”

“Because I love you,” Alex says, his voice breaking over the words, “and if he gets his hands on you, I will never forgive myself.”

They stare at each other for a long time, neither one of them willing to back down. Michael understands where Alex is coming from, he does, but the thought of him spending even a single minute somewhere he doesn’t feel safe makes Michael feel like he can’t breathe.

“What if we made a compromise?” Michael asks at last.

“What kind of compromise?” Alex asks warily.

“Forget the shed—you come here if it gets bad,” Michael proposes. “If anyone asks, you’re at Liz’s or Maria’s. You already do that when we’re together anyway, so it’s not like it’s unbelievable.”

Alex doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“I don’t know if—“ Alex starts, but the desperation curdling Michael’s stomach has him interrupting.

“Please, Alex,” Michael begs him. “Let me have this. I need to know you have an exit plan if you need one. I need you to feel safe.”

Alex studies his face as best he can in the dark for a long, terrifying moment.

“Okay,” Alex says at last and Michael feels such a strong rush of relief that he starts to tear up again.

“Thank you,” he says, and a few tears leak from his eyes as he captures Alex’s lips in a kiss. “Thank you.”

Instead of answering with words, Alex rakes his fingers through Michael’s curls and drags him in for another kiss, this one sweet and tender and everything Michael needs right now. It settles him more than he can say, makes him feel safe and warm and loved. He hopes his kisses make Alex feel the same way.

“What about your dad though?” Alex asks when he pulls away, distractedly twirling Michael’s hair between his fingers.

“What about him?” Michael asks.

“Will he be okay with me spending the night?”

“Yeah,” he answers with marginally more confidence than he really feels before he adds, “And, I mean, it’s not like you haven’t spent the night before.”

“Sneaking into your room every once in a while to fool around and then leaving before dawn is not the same thing as a sleepover and you know it, Michael Sanders,” Alex tells him, and he can’t quite see it but he’s sure Alex just rolled his eyes at him.

Michael sighs. He has a point.

“I’ll talk to him to make sure, okay?” Michael promises, reaching out to lay his hand on the side of Alex’s neck.

“Okay,” Alex relents.

Michael snuggles closer and leans in to kiss Alex’s forehead. Alex yawns sleepily as he pulls away and Michael laughs softly under his breath.

“Okay, time for bed,” Michael says, and Alex doesn’t fight him on it.

It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually Michael winds up on his back with Alex’s head resting on his chest and his fingers pressing into Michael’s bare skin where they’ve slid up under his shirt.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs against his collarbone.

“For what?” Michael asks, dropping a kiss onto the top of Alex’s head.

“For being here,” he answers, like it’s a kindness he never expected, and Michael can’t help but kiss him again.

“I’ll always be here for you, Alex,” Michael tells him, feeling the truth of those words as he whispers them into Alex’s hair. “All you need to do is stay.”

[corvidshipping]

Heartbeat

Summary: On a sleepless night, Possum tells Cliff they think his heartbeat is comforting. He’s not quite sure what they mean Pairing: Cliff Stｅｅlｅ/Heather “Red” Bowers (Possum) Warnings: none Rating: G/T Word count: 2.8k A/N: Editing? Outline? bitch what outline here we go

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. Cliff's heavy steps echoed through the silent halls, his eyes straining to pick up obstacles in his way with only moonlight to guide him. His outdated cameras failed him often even in good conditions, but in dead of night he usually had to make his way nearly blind, worsened by the lack of other senses like touch. He cringed internally as he noticed, through the static in his hearing that was ever-present now, how loud his footsteps were, and he wished it were easier for him to walk softly. He hoped it wouldn't wake anyone up.

As carefully as one could in a metal body, Cliff made his way down from his bedroom to the living room of the manor. A digital clock glowed softly on the mantle, a nightlight that the Chief liked to keep for Dorothy. The lit numbers read 1:47 AM. Cliff sighed out loud at the sight of it, realizing he had been trying and failing to sleep for almost three hours. He had managed it, at one point, briefly, but was haunted by visions of the past melding with the present - watching the accident over and over from an outside view, every time Clara replaced by someone different. Dorothy, Jane, and at one point, for some reason, Rachel Weisz was there. He watched a specter of his daughter, trapped in her youth, falling into the hands of Mr. Nobody. He saw worlds where he had died, and Clara was retrieved, her brain shoved into a cold, metallic prison, unforgiving and unfeeling. He heard his only child screaming, trying to cry, slowly realizing that robotic eyes could spill no tears. That was the worst dream so far, and the one that jolted him awake hours ago, the one that kept occupying his brain with anxieties and guilt.

An odd feeling rose within him, one he had grown unpleasantly familiar with. In his youth - that is, when he was human - he would grow sick with anxiety, a physical feeling that felt heavy in his gut. Now, with no body, he had no physical response to the near-constant dread, but a phantom response followed him, something he thought of as a leaden ball. It almost always was accompanied by a ghostly chill, one he should not feel - the expectation of a feeling that his brain, the only soft and organic part of him left, still remembered. Uselessly, Cliff shook his head, as if he were a dog trying to clear his ears of water. He tried to pretend the motion helped.

In the dark, Cliff ventured to the couch, dropping heavily onto it. He wasn't sure why, truly, he still sat there. Not like it's any more comfortable than anywhere else, he thought bitterly. He supposed it was habit, or maybe just that these joints were stiff, and it was awfully hard to bend enough to get up and down off the floor. Getting up the stairs was enough of an effort as it was, he didn't need to make life harder for himself. He blinked slowly, he needed to get his mind off this. His thoughts were just running in circles now, a car on an empty racetrack, making endless grim laps.

Somewhere to the right of him, the curtains fluttered over a closed window, the glass fogging just a little.

"Hey, Possum." Cliff's voice was quiet, and tinged with a hint of static tonight. He turned his head to the window to see writing forming, as if drawn by an invisible finger.

"It's late." The window read, drips slowly forming in the condensation. Slowly, the writing faded back into fog.

"Yeah, yeah, like you're one to talk. We're both awake right now." The curtain moved again, gently. He wondered if that was their way of laughing.

In the silvery moonlight, a soft voice rang out, barely audible and almost a whisper. "I'm a ghost. It's my job to haunt people late at night."

The resident bump-in-the-night, Heather Bowers - or as she preferred to be called, Red, and as Jane had christened her, Possum - could not be easily described in generally accepted terms. In the 1970s, when she was in her 20s, she was met with a terrible accident in small-town Ohio that she refused to speak about. At the exact moment of this accident, her latent psychic powers apparently activated, causing her body to cease to exist and become a thoughtform - a living consciousness, separate from a body, that exists only in its own thoughts, spread across multiple planes of existence. They now spent most of their time incorporeal, floating through the halls (and sometimes the walls) of Doom Manor, rattling chains and giving ghostly moans - the usual fare for a stereotypical ghost. At times, they could become corporeal - though it consumed quite a lot of energy - and, as a thoughtform, they could enter others' minds as a concept, especially in dreams, where they could form a body for themself and act corporeal in the sleeping person's dreamscape. It was almost comparable to Mr. Nobody, but rather than using these powers to cause harm and distress, they just tended to act as a year-round Halloween prop. The easiest way to describe her, in that case, was simply as a ghost, or poltergeist. Or at least, that was how Chief described it.

The accent pillows that Rita had insisted on earlier in the month shifted next to Cliff. "You weren't in the dreamscape when I came looking for you." Possum and Cliff had met when the former had begun entering his dreams, seeking an escape from the loneliness and boredom of life as an invisible consciousness. Possum was shocked when Cliff was able to see her and pointed her out as an anomaly in the memory he frequently revisited when he slept, and after she explained her situation to him and the Patrol, they had formed a comfortable routine of her entering his dreams frequently. An open invitation stood now between the two of them, Cliff trusting them never to overstep boundaries or snoop in memories that weren't theirs. It was a symbiotic thing, mutually beneficial; they got to re-experience corporeality and interact with the world, and they could influence the world of his mind, quelling anxiety and keeping nightmares at bay. Plus they were able to help him dream of his old body, so he got to experience human senses again.

Cliff made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "You wouldn't have wanted to see what I was dreaming about anyway." Immediately, he regretted speaking, knowing that those words would make Possum worry. "It wasn't that bad," he quickly added before she could respond. "Just the usual shit."

There was a heavy silence after that, each passing second making Cliff more and more uncomfortable, wondering what he could say to cut the tension.

Finally, Possum responded.

"I'm sorry. I wish I'd been there earlier," they said gently.

"Aw, don't sweat it, Red." He leaned further forward on the couch, his aging metal joints groaning with the effort. "I'm up now, anyway. And so are you."

A hand reached out from the darkness, pale white and translucent, landing on his arm. He couldn't feel her touch, but he could tell from looking that it was gentle, resting on the plates of his forearm delicately, like he was something fragile, precious. Like she was afraid he would break.

When they spoke, Possum's voice was even quieter, lower, as if she hoped he wouldn't hear her. "Can I... will you, um, rest with me?"

"Huh?"

Possum cleared her throat. "You need rest. I uh, I saw once on the Discovery Channel that if you can't sleep, it's better to lay down and close your eyes, even if you don't sleep. Y'know, it helps, um, y'know, you don't strain yourself that way. Your brain, and stuff."

"Oh. Yeah, I'll be okay, pint-size." Cliff leaned back against the couch arm again. "You okay?"

He heard her inhale, a strange sound in the empty darkness. "Can I sleep with you here, tonight?" Before Cliff could respond, she continued. "It's just that the attic is so far away from everyone else, it's so quiet, and the trains keep coming through, and it's cold up there. And no one's been around all day, you know? I haven't been able to talk to anyone, it's been a bad day for corporeality. And, y'know. The attic is just... really cold."

If he could have furrowed his brows, he would have. Instead, he settled for a nonplussed blink. Briefly, he wondered if she might just be afraid of the dark. The thought made him laugh a bit, the bonafide ghost haunting the manor being scared of the dark in the attic she occupies. "Sure, yeah."

Before him, Possum's figure manifested fully. The nickname "pint-size" was not a misnomer - when Cliff stood at full height next to them, the very top of their head barely hit his shoulder. They were a tiny, ghostly apparition, red hair floating as if they were underwater shocking against the pale glowing white of their skin. Right now, this phantom was floating in midair, as if laying on some bed, one hand propping up their chin and the other still on his arm, their legs kicking slowly behind them. Slowly, moving as if in a pool, they rearranged their body's positioning, pulling their legs under them so they were sitting normally on the couch next to him. Cliff saw the couch shift as they became more corporeal, taking up more weight on the cushions as they became more grounded in physical reality. Once they had fully manifested, they slowly leaned over towards him, eyes averting from his.

They laid their head on his shoulder, gently, like they were testing if he would pull away. He didn't, just looking at them. They took a deep, quiet breath, and relaxed, positioning themself so their head was laying on his chest. Once they were in the position they wanted, they stretched out, the tips of their toes stretching to the other arm of the couch. Cliff shifted a bit, leaning back to make them more comfortable. Possum closed their eyes and smiled, and it reminded him a bit of an extremely self-satisfied cat.

Cliff looked down at their head nestled on his metal torso. "There's no way you're comfortable like that," he muttered, trying to be mindful of his volume with how close to his voicebox their ear was. With the way they smiled when he spoke, he could swear they liked the vibrations of his voicebox in his chest.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, black eyes gazing up at him and glittering like the stars reflected in a deep black pool. Their spectral ailment only served to deepen the effect of their eyes, leaving very little white to their sclerae, completing an otherworldly look. "No, I am. I like to listen to your heartbeat."

Was she making fun of him? "I don't have a heartbeat," Cliff said flatly.

They sat up, propping themself on their arms so they were eye-to-eye with him. "No, you do. Sometimes when we sleep and I'm not in the dreamscape, I listen to it, just like this."

"Possum, I don't have any organs. I barely have a brain." He laughed a bit at the end, trying to cover his confusion.

"I'll show you!" Suddenly, she had bolted upright, and swooped down to the ground like an Olympic diver, passing through the floor towards the basement level. Cliff waited a minute in the silence, the dark no longer lit by their odd phantasmic glow. Finally, they flew back up through a different space in the floor closer to the television with the same vigor. They held a stethoscope in their hands, likely borrowed from Chief's hoard, and Cliff wondered in bemusement what the logic of a solid object passing through the floor with them was.

"Here." They clambered back onto the couch, regaining solidity, and leaned against him. They stretched up to his head, and he leaned forward a bit to help them put the earpieces against the auditory inputs on either side of his head. "Listen!" They placed the resonator against his chest.

Cliff heard nothing, but Possum sat staring at him, their index finger placed against their lips in a hushing gesture. After a moment, he was about to call it quits and say they were hearing things, but their stare was so earnest, he couldn't bring himself to. He waited,

and waited,

and waited,

and Possum shifted the resonator,

and then he heard it.

It wasn't that it had just started. It had been there. But it was a low noise, one he was used to, and when Possum shifted the resonator it only then became loud enough for him to recognize as a sound distinct from his usual background noise.

It wasn't a heartbeat, per se. Not in the organic sense, at least. It was more of a mechanical thrumming, a pulsing, a deep noise that wasn't so much like the beating of a drum as it was like the quiet revving of an engine a few streets over, reduced by distance and acoustics to only its most bassy components. He looked down, and he heard the whirring and whining of the servos in his neck and shoulders through the stethoscope. The placement of the stethoscope was slightly left of center of his chest, where his heart naturally should be.

Possum pulled away the stethoscope, the earpieces falling away from his head. "You hear it, right?"

"That's not my heart," Cliff repeated. "None of my body past my neck was saved. I think that's my nutrient tubes. Or maybe my power system. Or my servos."

"So?" 

"... So what?" He blinked at her.

Possum sat upright and spread their arms out to either side of them, palms up, theatrically. "That's exactly what I'm saying!" They said with overdramatic exasperation.

She let herself fall back onto his body, a soft thud echoing inside his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and serious. "So what? I know it isn't an organ, dummy. It doesn't have to be an organ to be your heart. It's comforting either way. It just reminds me that you're here, right now. It doesn't have to be a literal heart to do that, just as long as it's part of you."

Cliff sat silently, as they shifted back into their preferred positioning. He mulled over their words as they pulled themself as close as possible to his body, snuggling their head into the crevice between his shoulder and chest. Mindlessly, he moved his right arm to the small of their back, like he was supporting them, and his left hand moved to their hair, gently running through the strands, liquid copper over the rust of his fingers.

When he finally moved to respond, he realized they had fallen asleep long ago, letting out small snuffles every once in a while. So instead of giving a retort, he simply pulled them closer to his chest, tighter, like if he held them tightly enough he could feel the warmth of their body or the softness of their skin. He nestled his face in their hair, a nuzzling motion with his nose, and let his eyelids drop closed.

✥﹤ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ﹥✥

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. Between the slats of the half-drawn blinds, dawn light crept through the windows, lighting up the motes of dust that floated in the air and landing in stripes across sleeping forms. Cliff slept, now, on the couch, half sitting, Heather's pale form clutched in his arms and her hair tangled over his left hand's fingers like wild vines. In his chest, a mechanical heart thrummed and pulsed in a gentle rhythm, delivering power to his limbs, his brain. There were no nightmares, now, no dreams of his anxieties, no personified guilt; nor did he dream of the past, the bittersweet memories that, though happy, always left him with an empty feeling when he woke. He didn't dream of Clara's youth, of his last phone call to Kate. He didn't dream of Mr. Nobody, he didn't dream of Chief locking him away in an iron prison. He simply didn't dream. For once, it was quiet within his mind, even without the shared dreamscape.

The manor creaked and sighed in the wind, the ancient and fragile upper floors almost seeming to sway with each gust. As the manor began to stir and come to life with the others, Cliff was at peace there on the couch in the living room, and so was Heather.

And two hearts beat between them.

[multismarvel]

Help – Part Two (Oscar Diaz)

tw– blood, shooting

By the time the ambulances came, you were unconscious. You were barely breathing anyway and when you did, they came out in long, dragged breaths. Blood was seeping out of your chest and if it wasn’t for the just about noticeable movement of your breathing, it looked like you were dead. But you weren’t yet.

“Please, help her,” Cesar begged as the paramedics wheeled you into the ambulance. He couldn’t live with the fact you died because of him. You couldn’t die. He needed you. Oscar needed you.

“We’ll try our best, kid,” the paramedic told him. “What’s your relation to this woman, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brother,” Cesar replies without a beat, joining your barely conscious body and the paramedic onto the ambulance. “I’m her brother.”

The paramedic began the attempt to save your life and the shock of it all was really beginning to hit Cesar. He couldn’t sit here and watch you die.

Your heart rate began to slow and the lines representing your heart beat on the screen got lower and lower. Cesar didn’t know much but he knew enough to realise that wasn’t good. You had to pull through. Your life couldn’t end here. If it wasn’t for the cardioversion that the paramedic used to resuscitate you, who knew what would’ve happened? You were knocking on death’s door and Cesar had never been so scared.

The nurses wheeled you away as soon as they got on the hospital grounds to perform surgery. Ceser was left in the reception, alone and afraid with only his thoughts to help ease his mind but they didn’t. He was by no means a religious person but he was praying to whoever existed up above that you survived the surgery. And Olivia. And Ruby. Three deaths were going to be on his conscience. He was well aware that Oscar wouldn’t even consider forgiving him if you died.

Oscar. Only God knew how badly he’d take all of this. Cesar was an obvious physical wreck at the moment but he knew Oscar wouldn’t show how it affected him. He always had to put on a front but Cesar didn’t think he’d be able to hold it well once he found out about you.

Getting his phone out of his pocket, Cesar called his brother.

“Mano, what’s up?”

As soon as he heard Oscar’s voice, Cesar cried hard, his chest convulsing with powerful sobs. How could he let his brother down? How could he let you down? Tonight was supposed to be the best night for everyone and now because of one action he made, it was the worst.

“Hey, hey calm down.” Oscar’s voice was gentle though Cesar knew he was worried. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault,” weeped Cesar. “She’s going to die because of me.”

Oscar immediately knew the she in question was you. He didn’t know what happened or why or how but he knew something was wrong. He hoped Cesar wasn’t calling from the hospital and that he was just being melodramatic as usual. For once, Oscar wanted his gut feeling to be wrong. He couldn’t lose you.

“Where are you right now?” Oscar questioned.

“The hospital,” Cesar sniffed. The feeling of guilt in his body increased every second.

“I’ll meet you there. Don’t leave and don’t contact anybody,” Oscar demanded before hanging up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dread, anxiety and fear filled Oscar’s body. He was a gang member – a gang leader even and he’d never felt so afraid than in that moment. He even felt something was wrong seeing Cesar’s name flash across his phone. He felt it deep inside and it took over his being. As long as he lived he would never forget that feeling. He’d worked so hard to stay away from you to keep you safe and it’d done the complete opposite. Guilt wrecked his body. It could’ve been a different story if he was there. He would take a bullet for you without hesitation any day – even if it meant he’d die.

If you woke up, and judging by Cesar’s cries that seemed like a hard if, Oscar would get you out of the hood. He’d give you money, he’d threaten you to leave, he’d do what he had to. It was too dangerous for you to be in Freeridge. You were in a safe place with people you trusted yet you were still in danger. It wasn’t only the people but the place too and he’d make sure you were away once you were back in good health.

The drive over to the hospital was no doubt the longest drive Oscar’s ever and he was speeding the whole way. He was so frightened he’d get a call about you. He was more afraid that when he saw Cesar, he’d tell him that you were dead. His heart felt like it was going to burst if it beat any harder.

“How is she?” Oscar asked when he saw Cesar.

“They haven’t said anything yet,” Cesar told him.

“How did this happen?” Oscar thought back to what Cesar said. ‘It’s my fault.’

Cesar sniffled, “I didn’t kill Latrell. Then he came by the party. Ruby and Olivia got shot.” He choked out your name. “She got in the way and tried to save them.”

“You fucking what?” Oscar seethed. “I gave you one job and you couldn’t even do that? You could’ve killed the kid. Now he’s coming for the people you care about.”

“I don’t want to be a murderer,” Cesar said. “I just wanted to have a normal night with my friends.”

“You’d better hope they all pull through,” Oscar told him. “Otherwise it’s on you.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Cesar admitted truthfully. All he wanted to do was be a good person and it backfired in a way he never anticipated.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Oscar challenged. “He was a Prophet. We’re Santos. Obviously he was going to come back to finish the job. The job that you were supposed to get done.”

Gang affiliations and orders always took precedence over what people wanted to do. It didn’t matter if Cesar wanted to be a good person. He was a part of the Santos and as a result of that he was supposed to kill a Prophet who threatened him. A threat to one member of the Santos was a threat to all of them. Now Oscar was going to lose the love of his life and for what?

It still seemed so surreal. Neither Oscar or Cesar knew when you’d be out of surgery or if you’d even make it. They didn’t want to hear from the nurse that you died on the operating table. Oscar had lost enough people he cared about like that and didn’t plan on adding you to the list.

“Was it bad?” Oscar inquired about your injuries.

“Oscar...” Cesar trailed off. He didn’t want to put his brother through more anguish.

“Just tell me,” Oscar pleaded softly.

Cesar nodded silently, sitting down. “It was bad.” He shut his eyes and shuddered as the memory of you getting gunned down flashed back into his mind. “If I could’ve taken those bullets I would have.”

“I know.” Oscar sat down next to him. He couldn’t be angry with Cesar – not right now anyway. They were both hurt and confused about what was going on. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

The two of them stayed side by side all night. Hours and hours passed by. Cesar answered calls and texts from everyone and informed them about you being in surgery. He’d also found out Olivia and Ruby were in the same situation as you and hoped they were alright too. The suspense was all too much and it didn’t help they couldn’t see you.

A nurse walked to them and said your name. At last.

Oscar’s head rose up immediately and Cesar’s heart broke seeing the glint of hope in his eyes. The last bit of hope Oscar had depended on you being alive and after that everything was lost. Oscar would never be the same without you around.

“Is she okay? Can we see her? How is she?” Oscar questioned.

“She’s okay,” the nurse confirmed and the two brothers breathed a sigh of relief. “Only family members can come in. I was informed one is her brother but who is the other?”

“Husband,” Cesar supplied. “He’s her husband and I’m her brother in law.”

Oscar would’ve given Cesar an incredulous look but he didn’t want to give anything away so he went along with it. “She’s my wife. I just want to see that she’s alright.”

“Follow me,” the nurse ordered. The three of them took a quick walk to the room where you were. “She’s on pain meds so she may be in and out of consciousness. Try not to make the conversation too heavy.” She pointed to the room you were in and made her way back to the reception.

Oscar’s heart was racing and he felt so nervous. Part of him wanted you to never leave his side and the other part of him wanted you to leave Freeridge and be safe. You deserved to be safe and not worry about yourself or the people you loved.

“You see her first.” Oscar pushed Cesar towards your room.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Cesar walked to your room and felt his heart swell with emotion as soon as he saw you. His eyes welled up with tears all over again.

“Cesar,” you called out his name, ignoring the ache in your chest. You’d been conscious for a little while but with the help of the meds, it’d helped drastically.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, sitting in the chair next to your bed. He held your hand. “I can’t believe this even happened. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you dismissed. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Cesar’s tensed shoulders had sagged slightly at that comment. He was relaxing. He needed to hear that from you.

“We didn’t think you were going to make it,” Cesar spoke. “There was so much blood, God, I was so scared. I’m really relieved you’re here. Alive.”

“Me too.” You didn’t have the best life but you didn’t want to die. There was still so much time ahead and so much life left to live. You didn’t want to be robbed of that.

“Oscar’s here too,” Cesar told you.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. Even in your drugged, weak state you’d wondered why he didn’t come and see you when you looked good. Instead he was here to see you dressed up in a hospital gown with gauze and scars on your chest. “That’s good. I know you guys must’ve been worried sick.”

“He won’t admit it but he was really scared,” Cesar said. “He doesn’t want to lose you. He loves you.”

That might’ve been true but you still wondered. Oscar was so closed off it made you question things. It made you want to be around him more and it made you care more when it should’ve been the opposite. You were baffled and hurt but still in love. Just like he was.

“He’s like right outside. I’m going to get him now.”

Before you could argue otherwise, though you’d wondered why he hadn’t come first, Cesar went to get his brother. When Oscar came in it was like the tension couldn’t have even been cut by a knife. No one knew how to react and everyone was anticipating what was going to happen next. Cesar pat his brother’s back in a show of encouragement before leaving the room. He’d probably go visit Monse and the others.

Oscar welcomed the feeling of relief when he saw your body. Words couldn’t explain how he felt knowing you were alive. His knees would’ve buckled in shock if he wasn’t so good at keeping up his facade. You were here, living and breathing and Oscar would do whatever it took to ensure it stayed that way.

“Uh, hey.” Oscar slowly made his way to the seat once occupied by Cesar.

“Hey,” you repeated back. All these emotions you felt were all so sudden and made you feel drowsy. No way were you going unconscious now.

“I, uh.” Oscar knew what he wanted to say. He wasn’t ready for the emotion that would come with it. You always told him to be more open and honest with his emotions. “That was scary.”

“It was,” you agreed, knowing that even if Oscar didn’t talk much that his mind was racing with thoughts and questions. “But I’m okay. You don’t have to worry now.”

“Don’t I?” Oscar thought otherwise. “I kept away from you to keep you safe and this is what happens. You’re not okay. I think you should leave Freeridge once you’re better. Move to a safe area.”

“Are you serious?” You hissed, not being able to shout. “I’ve just woken up and this is what you’re telling me?”

“What did you want me to do? Get on my knees and confess my dying love for you? That would only make you stay.” Oscar snapped. “You’re not safe here and if this happens again, you might not be as lucky.”

“Why are you being like this?” You snapped back. “Why can’t you just be nice for once? Couldn’t this conversation waited til I got out of hospital?”

“Look, the best chance you have is leaving this place and making something for yourself,” Oscar told you. “You’re not going to find what you need in Freeridge.”

You shut your eyes and sighed. “If you’re going to rebuff my non-existent advances again, quit while you’re ahead.”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Oscar’s tone wasn’t annoyed like it usually was. It was softer as if he’d accepted defeat.

“Why do you have to be in denial?” You asked.

It was Oscar’s turn to sigh. “Stop. Don’t do this. Not now.”

“Oh, come on.” You gave a small smile. “You have to answer my questions. I was shot twice after all. You’re not going to add salt on the wound, are you?”

Oscar kept his eyes on you the whole time. You were expecting him to break away but he wasn’t one to back down from confrontation.

“Tell me how you really feel about me and if you’re lying, and I’ll know, then I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me ever again.”

Oscar’s stomach lurched in fear at those words. That part of him he’d pushed away that wanted to spend his life with you was getting harder and harder to override. He wanted to be the first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you went to bed. He wanted to wake up with you in the morning and go to sleep with you at night. Jealousy erupted in him at the mere thought of someone else getting to share their life with you.

“Fine, I don’t like you.”

“Try again.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” Oscar confessed. “I can’t stand being away from you but I’m scared of what will happen if I’m with you. If you were ever in this situation because of me, I’m not sure I could handle that.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you echoed your words from a few weeks earlier. “Why don’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Why don’t you just give up on me? Everyone else has,” Oscar pointed out.

“Because I love you,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “I love you, Oscar, and I have done ever since freshman year. I know you love me too and I know we can be something really good and you keep fighting me. It’s okay to feel, Oscar, good and bad and it’s okay to love. It can be scary but it’s good. I’m falling really hard for you and I want you there to catch me.”

“What if you want out one day?” Oscar voiced his thoughts.

“I won’t,” you insisted.

“But what if?” Oscar repeated. “You might not feel the same way all the time.”

“I will never stop loving you,” you promised him. “The same way you never stopped loving me and wanting to keep me safe.”

“I love you,” Oscar started, “but-”

“But nothing,” you stopped him. “I lived a life without you and I don’t want to do that anymore. You deserve to happy. We both do.”

“You really want this? Me?” Oscar quizzed you again just to be sure.

You rolled your eyes. “My outpouring of love wasn’t enough?”

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Oscar admitted. “I’ve hurt you enough and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“So be with me,” you told him. “Love me. Stay by my side because I can’t spend another second without you.”

Oscar kissed your hand and your heart swelled at the act. “Okay, I will. I won’t fuck this up, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Truth be told, you believed him with every fibre of your being. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

In that moment Oscar Diaz was the love of your life and nothing could ruin that for the both of you. Your new life was beginning and because you were getting to spend it with Oscar, you never wanted it to end.

[imagine-myhero]

Hi there! Could I request a short scenario with Todoroki and Hawks (if you can only do one at a time that’s okay!) who are arguing with the reader and all of a sudden they just start having a panic attack and hyperventilating due to previous toxic relationships so they try to comfort their s/o? 🥺💕 i understand if you don’t want to write the request, and I absolute love your pieces btw! Have a great day 💖

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for your patience with my unofficial hiatus. The holidays were a lot and now I’m on my final semester of college so life be hectic AF. Anyways, thanks for the request and hope you enjoy!

Shouto Todoroki

It had felt like ages since you’d last seen Shouto beyond a quick peck on the cheek in passing, and even that was becoming rare. It had felt even longer since the two of you spoke casually and comfortably without something pulling one of you away.

Crime rates had risen lately, causing a lot of overtime on Shouto’s end and keeping him away from home until the unreasonable hours of the night when you were already asleep. In the early mornings when you would wake and get ready for your own job, he’d still be dead asleep from the long night before. Of course you wouldn’t wake him— you understood he needed his rest, but that didn’t stop the ache of loneliness and feeling like the love of your life was slowly fading away from settling in your heart. .

Even when the two of you had a moment to spare with each other, Shouto was becoming moody and short with you. It almost seemed as if Shouto viewed quality time with you as another job he had to do on top of everything else.

Maybe it was one too many dinners gone cold, one too many missed calls, or one too many brushed off touches, but whatever it was it made you speak up.  Shouto was particularly stressed out that night, but you chose to ignore it. Instead you asked him if he still had feelings for you, pleaded that he try and make more time for you, and demanded he tell you why he’d been so distant lately.

“I have more than enough on my plate without you badgering me like this.” He answered with a disapproving look.

“‘Badgering’? Shouto, it’s been days since we last had a real conversation, weeks since we had a real kiss, and I can’t even remember the last time we had sex.” You argued. Normally you weren’t so blunt, but you really couldn’t beat around the bush anymore.

Shouto could sympathize with your sentiments; it had been a long time since you spent time together in any sense. But it wasn’t like he was just goofing off. Shouto had an important job and you claimed to understand that when you started dating him.

“I’ve been really busy (Name)…” He sighed.

“I know, but…”

“Enough!” Shouto said firmly, louder than he had intended, and you jumped at the suddenness. When you met his gaze, you received a look you hadn’t seen in years, and never from Shouto. Icy venom and burning anger flooded his eyes, his lips pressing down into a disdainful scowl. You felt small and insignificant beneath his stare, a feeling that slapped you with memories you’d much rather forget.

Tears flooded your eyes and you quickly turned away before Shouto could see, but he didn’t have to. He knew the moment the harsh command left his mouth what he’d done because the voice that came out didn’t sound like his at all.

It sounded like his father’s.

And only when he forcefully relaxed his face did he realize how deep he was glaring at you. All of his emotions extinguished, leaving nothing but a repentant smoke curling from the ashes.

“Shit…” He muttered, swallowing thickly and staring at your heaving back in shame. “I’m… I’m so sorry, (Name). I don’t know what—…”

You moved to leave the room, but suddenly his cool hand enveloped your wrist gently yet securely. You whipped your head back to look at him, tears streaming down your face and body flushed with the heat of anxiety, and you see the sorrowful and broken eyes of your beloved.

“S-Shouto…” You whimpered forlornly, hiccuping and unable to catch your breath. Immediately, Shouto embraced you, holding you tightly as you clung to him and shook with tears and sharp gasps.  Shouto wanted to beg for your forgiveness, but knew he had no right to ask. He didn’t deserve it; you had no obligation to ever forgive him. But after all this was caused because he was neglecting you like a fool, he couldn’t bear to let you walk away and be alone again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was unforgivable.” He said softly, because he refused to let you face any more of his anger— even if it was at himself this time.

“I-It’s okay…” You sniffled.

“No, it’s not okay… I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this never happens again. I’m sorry.  I’m taking the rest of the week off to be here with you, if you’ll still have me…”

You listened to him silently and then nodded, shakily responding, “I love you…”

Shouto’s grip tightened on you and you breathed in his comforting scent, feeling loved when he pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always. I won’t make you feel lonely again.”

Hawks

You were only worried, and Keigo knew that, but he was just so mad at himself for letting you find out what he was doing with the League of Villains. He was mad at himself for having lied to you about it, he was terrified at the fact that you’re involved now because you knew, he was dreading your begging for him to stop when he couldn’t, and all of these emotions created a storm in his mind and the next thing he knew he was snapping at you.

“Keigo, you could be killed!” You pleaded, the thought alone making you feel sick. Hawks ran his hand through his windswept hair and clenched his jaw tightly. Like he needed you to remind him of that. His fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh and while he did everything he could not to look at you. “Please talk to your superiors. There must be some other way—.”

“There isn’t, okay?! So just drop it!” Keigo roared back at you, finally making eye contact and you froze at what you saw in them. His usually warm, sweet, honey-colored eyes were now darkened, sharp, and burning with anger. The aggression in his voice and face was all too familiar to you and you found your muscles seizing up with terror and your voice caught in your throat. Keigo initially didn’t notice your reaction while he continued, voice raising, “You just don’t get it. It’s so damn complicated and I’m the only one who can fucking—!”

Keigo stopped yelling immediately as soon as he saw it. He had taken a step toward you while he was trying to explain himself, his wings ruffling out in frustration, and you flinched hard, your arms flying up in between you and him and eyes squeezing shut. He felt his chest tighten and his throat dry up; he didn’t know how to react or what to say. Instantly his wings folded back in, further than normal as if to hide their very existence and make himself seem as small as possible.

“(Name)…?” He called your name quietly, concern bleeding into his expression. You didn’t notice. You could only focus on how you couldn’t slow down your breathing or put down your arms from shielding yourself. You tried to tell yourself you’re okay— that Keigo hadn’t even touched you—but you couldn’t seem to think straight.

“(Name).” Keigo said your name again, more urgently this time but trying desperately to remain calm. He was panicking at how scared you looked. His stomach twisted with dread when he realized you thought he was going to hit you.

“I-I’m sorry.” You said quickly, forcing your arms down though you’re unable to bring them further than your chest or straighten them out. Hawks flinched when you apologized. He wished he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if you were apologizing for your reaction or if it was a reflex statement to try and blunt his anger. But he wasn’t angry— not at you. And he didn’t want you to apologize for being scared. He scared you. He’s the one who should be…

“Don’t.” He whispered, shaking his head, “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize. I’m sorry, this is my fault. I promise I’m not mad, I would never hurt you I swear. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.” Keigo began to ramble, feeling nothing short of horrible for causing this reaction in you.

Inside your frightened haze, you heard the comforting tone in his voice, the soft croon of guilt and regret and sweetness. You’re reminded that this is your Hawks— your Keigo. He wasn’t gaslighting you, wasn’t drunk, wasn’t violent… He’s just as scared as you right now and he’s sorry.  

Tears welled up in your eyes and you stepped forward, shoving yourself into Keigo’s body and weeping freely. Immediately his arms wrapped around you, holding you securely but not too tightly. Hands stroked your hair softly and rubbed your back, and you cried even more at the gentle touches.

“It’s alright, I promise I never meant to scare you like that. I let my emotions get the better of me, but I promise I’m not angry at you. I know you were just scared… I’m scared too…” Keigo said softly, voice shaking slightly while he held you closer and wrapped his wings around the two of you.

“I trust you…” He heard you say meekly, clutching his shirt tighter and nuzzling against him slightly. Keigo pressed his lips together and buried his head in the crook of your neck, squeezing his eyes shut and choking back a whimper.

“Thank you, baby…I won’t let you down again.”

[kidney9-9]

Petty Chapter 4 (Peter Parker)

Hi, hope you enjoy this chapter of Petty, I loved writing it! In this chapter, Peter Parker and Reader meet again and bring the two to a point they can’t stand each other. I don’t own this gif, credit goes to the creator.

Taglist is open! 

Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Reader  Warnings: cursing and slight violence Word Count: 1.7k

You were stuck on that day, rethinking everything after your cousin had passed out. You didn’t even know what to do now, with Peter glaring at you, every chance he had. You felt guilty even more than possible, but you were trying to convince yourself not to be. It was just something you couldn’t hold back. You would tell yourself, “Peter deserves it, don’t worry” but that never worked out. You groaned at yourself, shaking your head. It all made you feel stupid now, compared to how you did that because you thought Peter was dumb.

Mandy refused to talk to you now. You were alright with it, knowing she would probably drive to your home in the middle of the night to randomly take you out to roller-skate. It was something she always did to you, whenever your actions affected her in a negative way. Whenever she did something like that to you, she’d apologize by taking you out roller skating as well. It was a fun tradition to end a feud.

Your mom was disappointed in both you and Mandy. She wouldn’t have known about it in the first place if Mandy managed to shut up. Your mom would just stare at you at dinner now, instead of talk about things, something that made you feel even worse and more uncomfortable. Your mom was one of your best friends, so it was off putting whenever she was in the same room as you now.

You scrunched your face up, remembering how she muttered his name at you before you left for school this morning. “Peter Parker…” Something you would usually scoff at but now you’d want to throw things everywhere and cry at the same time. He still pissed you off, no matter what. But that guilt was immense.

You would just pass him through the hallways. Something that was usually normal, but now intense. He’d glare at you, slam his fist into a locker, but never made any action to just talk to you. It wasn’t something you’d expect from a superhero, and it made you think. Were you his villain of high school? You cringed at the thought, but then you sighed. Were you the villain of your own story as well? Was Peter the villain? Nothing made sense, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

If you were a villain, you were at best a shitty D-list one.

You could have kept quiet about everything. Something that sounds so easy, but it just poured out of you, like you were in a Shakespearean parody. The antagonist villain is always defeated in movies now. But Peter made no play against you. Nothing to take revenge against you.

That just made you feel more guilty. If he did do something, you would somehow theorize and conclude that what you did to him was just. At the same time, you couldn’t just say “Sorry, you’re probably going to be held back.” As well as, “Sorry my cousin blackmailed you.”

By the time you reached your locker, you sighed in relief. He wasn’t here for some reason. He was usually in this hallway, just staring at you, but this morning he wasn’t. You opened your locker, glancing inside to look for your notes for history, but frowned in confusing. Nothing was there. At all, it was just completely empty.

You felt a dread of anxiety pulse through you. You needed those notes for history today, it was important. It was the pre-exam, and without those notes today, you would be fucked. Some stupid test to make sure you knew everything before the actual exam, but the teacher graded it as well. It was worth 10% and without it, you cringed at just thinking of the score.

You shoved yourself more into the locker, just pushing your head in to see better, as if you were hallucinating. You glanced at the top of your locker, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw a paper tapped on it. You pushed yourself out, ignoring people’s looks and stares at you, ripping the paper out. You clutched it hard, slamming your locker shut, and pushed your back against it.

You opened the paper quickly, ignoring the tape falling to the floor. You squinted, reading it over again. “Music room in 10 minutes.” What the fuck? You crumpled it, shoving it deep down in your pocket, glancing down the hallway. Class started in thirty minutes, so you had time. You knew it was Parker, definitely.

The music room was huge. Last year the school decided to tear down the wall into another classroom, to expand the music room. It acted as a small assembly room sometimes, but normally it was just for music. You walked down the hall, feeling nervous as you started to turn the corner to enter the room.

People smiled at you, greeting you as they usually did in the hallway, but you didn’t respond. You were too nervous, wondering what would happen. You trembled, setting your hand on the doorknob. You shook your head at yourself, slightly scoffing. Like he would do anything on schoolgrounds right? Before you could open the door though, someone from the inside did.

You let go of the doorknob, surprised. No one walked out, so you pumped yourself up for half a second, before stepping in. You cleared your throat slightly, glancing to whoever opened the door. You knitted your eyebrows, not seeing anyone.

“You need to fix my grades.” You jumped at his voice, spinning around in panic. Peter stepped forward, and you wanted to groan at him. He was in his Spiderman costume again, something you just didn’t agree with, seeing as how he was at school, and now with people just outside the room. You tilted back, hitting the door slightly to close it.

“I can’t! And stop- you’re being dumb” You paused, waving your hands out in front of you, just more concerned that his identity would be completely revealed, “Stop that shit.” You pushed out, finishing your sentence.

Peter shook his head back at you, glancing down to his suit. He didn’t have his mask on either. He pushed out a few hours before school, doing an extra shift around the neighborhood, knowing crime rates had gone up in the past month. “I need you to change them back!” He retorted, letting his anger get to him.

He couldn’t believe you were the reason that he was failing a fucking English class. “I don’t understand why you even did it in the first place! Are you just a bad person? That enjoys seeing others like this?” He ranted again, stepping closer to you. He pushed out a plastic bag he was carrying, filled with your notes and objects from your locker. He dropped it between the two of you.

“Peter…” You trailed off, staring down at the bag. “It’s just- I thought it was dumb, that essay you wrote. I know you’re Spiderman and it’s supposed to be a secret, but when you go and write about Spiderman? No, that’s just not safe. I was just pissed off that’s all?” You ended your weirdly apologetic statement with a questioning tone.

Peter stared at you in astonishment. “It’s dumb?” He repeated, throwing his hands up in irritation and anger. You raised your eyebrows back at him, nodding. “As well as you just fucking flying into the school! You know how many times you could have been caught? And what the fuck is that name?” You ranted back, as if feeling his anger flow into you.

Peter felt himself stutter in anger back at you, as the two of you got even closer to each other. “The name? Spiderman? Fuck- I’m sorry that name bothers you to the point you illegally ruin my chances of graduating! You’re such a fucking bitch!” His words came spitting harshly at you, making you shake your head quickly.

“I’m a bitch? Please, what should my superhero name be? Dog-Girl? What’s my superpower, barking?” You scoffed back sarcastically.

You just then realized how close he was. You blinked back at him, feeling heat rush to your face from his closeness and anger. You two were close enough to just almost breathe in the other. It made you have a weird reflection, knowing you probably shouldn’t be arguing with him now. You sighed lightly, watching as Peter shivered at the feeling hitting his neck.

At the same time, you two stepped far back from each other. He glanced down at the plastic bag again, frowning at it. “Since you fucked up my grades, enjoy this fucking gift, Dog-girl.” He muttered, raising his hand to the bag, and activated his web-shooter.

In an instant he shot it out, watching as the solution sprayed itself across your items, “No!” You shouted out, watching as it melted itself into everything, attaching to the floor. You scoffed back up to Peter, rolling your eyes. You needed those notes for history, it was the only thing that could save you today.

Peter felt his heart drop at his actions. It was just a moment of anger, but he could see the pure feeling of lost on your face. Even if it was just for a history class, he felt guilty. Even the people he didn’t like, for example, Flash, wouldn’t have done that. It was just like you did to him though, he didn’t know how to feel now. The two of you stood in silence, until you spoke up.

You licked your lips, squeezing your eyes closed. “You know superheroes have an unspoken rule of hierarchy. Something everyone knows, it’s common sense. Iron-Man would be at the top, something everyone can agree on. He- he almost is seen as an angel, someone who has wings that can cover the whole world in one swoop.” You paused.

“And you? You’re nowhere near him. The only thing that might connect you two, is that your wings are the size of a chicken’s, never going to be able to fly, watching him in envy. You’re never going to amount to anything Tony Stark does.”

Peter didn’t know what to think about other than your words the rest of the day. It burned, stung into him, as if an actual spider had bit him. Even though it was funny that you compared him to a chicken and the wings, he knew that your words held a truth to them. He didn’t know if he could live up to anything of his mentor and father figure.

But at the same time, he’ll die trying.

--

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Taglist open (Send in an Ask to join and to leave!) (Let me know if I forgot you!) Bold means couldn’t be tagged. 

[thatwritingho]

I gotchu anon. This one hits close to home😔but tbh was pretty therapeutic to write

If you ever need someone to talk to about it, my dms are always open.

⚠️Obvious trigger warning for child abuse below the cut⚠️

You hated it, how even after all these years, just a string of words, a smell, a nightmare, anything that reminded you even slightly of that time could send you spiraling; amp up your heart rate, disrupt your breathing, force tears to your eyes, and steal your ability to speak. 

It was rarer, these days, for that all consuming feeling of dread and fear to overtake you. Time would never heal this, but it was easier to push it to the back of your mind, to go through the motions of your day to day like a semi-functional human being, with the trauma of days long gone buried securely behind multiple thick walls.

So rare, in fact, that you had never brought it up to your lover. Its not that you didn't trust them, far from it. Your conversations had merely never turned in that direction, and there was never a right time to just bring that up. You kept telling yourself that it didn't matter, that it was long in the past and you hadn't even had an anxiety attack in ages anyway. 

But now, here you were, curled up in your bed, blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders in an attempt to hold yourself together.

Your door opened and fear shot through you like cold fire, for the briefest of seconds you were that same scared little child again, expecting to see your abuser as your eyes shot to the source of footsteps. Relief washed over you like a warm wave as you saw it was not them, but your lover, their eyes full of barely concealed concern as they rushed to your side, taking your hands in theirs and searching your eyes.

"Whats wrong?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came, only a choked sob as tears spilled down your face. Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw wired together by anxiety. Their grip on your hands tightened. 

It was time. You needed to tell them. You wanted to tell them. And so you took a deep breath, and told your story as best as you could.

Itachi:

Listens to you calmly and patiently, though inside his heart is breaking for you. 

He's almost relieved, in a way, that you're opening up to him

It explains so much, and he's kicking himself for not realizing sooner, for not seeing the signs, certain aspects of your behavior, for what they were and putting two and two together

Feels like a terrible boyfriend for not noticing and leaving you to deal with this on your own

But you're not on your own anymore

he may not totally understand your situation, but he's no stranger to traumatic childhood events himself

Makes it clear that he is going to support you and support you hard, making sure you know you can talk to him about this any time

He never brings it up first, but is always ready to listen

All in all yall already know he's perfect boyfriend material and this is no exception

Kisame:

Similar to itachi tbh

But even better

A great listener but also somehow knows exactly what to say???

"You have every right to be upset." 

"You're not defined by this."

"I'm proud of you for being so strong, but you're not alone anymore. I'm here to support you now."

Here king you dropped your crown👑

You will feel so much better after opening up to this man I swear it

He has def had to comfort someone close to him in this way before, maybe a sister or team mate

He's just too good to not have

But we all know his heart is just as big as his sword so its no surprise that he's like this

Has always been understanding when you're having a more difficult day, but now that he knows the cause of some of your actions is trauma, he knows just how to calm you down and ground you

100/10 marry this man or I will

Deidara:

Is stunned, tbh

Like he never fucking suspected

Feels like shit honestly, what kind of boyfriend is he that he couldn't even tell his lover was struggling with something so big?

Knows he shouldn't be making this conversation about himself, though, so he doesn't say any of that

His hand mouths kiss your palms to try to comfort you

Pulls you into a giant hug when you finish speaking and kisses your tears away

Oh shit but wait maybe you don't want to be touched right now? Thats a thing right?

Doesn't have any knowledge on this but he's trying ok

Is very open to any changes that come to your dynamics because of the new found news

Maybe a bit too open

Like completely stops initiating sex because he doesn't want you to feel pressured

And just all in all starts treating you like you're fragile

Its sweet, his heart is in the right place, but that isn't what you want of course

So you have to sit him down and tell him that you're still you, and he's still him, and that you don't want your relationship to change because of something that happened before you even met

That finally makes it click for him, and he goes back to his normal self pretty quickly

And he is always, always there if you want to talk about it. He may not understand, but he loves you and will do whatever he can to help you feel less alone

Sasori:

He done been knew

Well, he heavily suspected. I head canon him as an abuse survivor himself, and he recognized the signs

Knows how difficult it is to talk about, so he was just waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up

Lowkey relieved, because even though its horrible, having someone else who understands that particular brand of trauma is rare

Especially for him since he's never opened up to anyone else like he has you

But he's also fucking furious

We all know Sasori views people as possessions 

And even though he loves you more than anything else in the world, he still feels that way about you too, to a smaller extent, but its there

So the thought that someone did that to something of his?

Oh he mad

But he has enough wherewithal to not let you see that burning rage while you're upset and confiding in him

He listens attentively, and gives you as much comfort as he can until you calm down

Finds some way to weasel out the identity of your abuser without upsetting you(ya boi is manipulative af)

Later has one of his spies hunt the person down and capture them, and then sneaks off and takes his sweet time to make them regret ever even looking at you

Might tell you about his own abuse sometime in the future. Maybe. 

Kakazu:

Its not often that Kakazu feels the need to put effort into holding back his anger

But this is one of those times

Because he is livid

He has always taken extra joy in collecting the heads of child rapists for bounties

He may be immoral in regards to most things, but that is a line that should not be crossed

And to think about that happening to you makes him want to kill

Makes a vow to himself as soon as the words leave your lips, that he will find the scum that did this and destroy them. Slowly. Painfully.

But for now he listens, holding you hands with as much gentle care as he can muster 

Kakuzu is at a loss for how to handle delicate, emotional situations like this. But he tries, for you.

Wiping away your tears and holding you softly, allowing far more cuddles and gentle affection than he normally would that night 

He feels that acting different around you after would be an insult to your ability to handle a problem you've been dealing with for years

But he can't help but be a little easier on you, letting you get away with more back talk or general acts of affection than usual

He may even surprise you with a few small gifts

That necklace you were eyeing in the last town? That new album by that group you like that just dropped? A collectors edition of your favorite book? 

As much as he hates spending money, he just can't help himself

Afterall, the fact that you trusted him, him, with this information makes him feel a bit squishy inside

Hidan:

Another one for team "I'll fucking kill them!"

But much more upfront about it

Unlike Sasori and Kakuzu, he does not have the sense to not let his rage be know to you while you're telling him

But then he sees how you shrink, how you curl further into yourself, how you start crying that much harder

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you."

Once you calm down, you have to explain that him being angry and aggressive does not help when you're fighting off these memories

He feels like shit for upsetting you further

Go easy on him. You're the first person he's ever cared about. He's emotionally stunted but hes trying

Kind of just shuts up and let's you talk after that

Is lowkey amazed that you were hiding all these awful feelings this whole time

Is also lowkey amazed that you were able to function and seem so normal with them

Holds you close when you finish, and in the most serious, calm tone you've ever heard from him, promises that no one will ever hurt you like that again, and that he will make this person pay

They aren't worthy of being a sacrifice to Lord Jashin.

But you best believe Hidan will make them suffer 

Konan:

Sad girl is sad

Also not surprised, she knows how common it is for these things to happen

She's dealt with sexual harassment hersef

But her heart aches for you

Holds you tight, letting you cry into her shoulder and cling to her as much as you want

Soothingly stroking your back or arm or petting your hair as you let it all out

She can relate to many of the feelings you share

Is literally the only one who thinks to ask if you have any triggers

Not quite as supportive as Kisame, but still validates your feelings

"Its ok to be angry."

"You've been so strong."

"Be gentle with yourself."

Doesn’t let it affect your relationship 

But she is more understanding if you get in a mood

If you're being especially irritable or pushing her away, she may ask, "are you ok?" and give you a look

Its frustrating but also helps ground you

10/10 wifey I love her

Nagato/Pain:

Poor baby is devastated 

Also concerned

You've been hiding this pain from him all this time… why?

Do you not trust him?

Do you not think he could handle knowing?

All he wants is to take your heart ache from you, even if it means it becomes his

Lovers should share everything, including pain

And so you tell him, though teary eyes, that no, no, of course not, that's not it

Its just that every time you wanted to tell him, you just…  couldn't

How the trauma would cause your body to physically prevent you from speaking about it, even when you wanted to

You both end up crying 

He wants to know everything about how it affects you, physically, emotionally, all of it

The more he knows, the more he can do to help

Lowkey might have Konan pick him up a book or two on the subject, just to get a better understanding 

You already know he’s gonna obliterate the person who did this to you

Obito:

This man i swear

He's worse than Deidara

Finding out something so terrible happened to you, seeing how deeply its hurt you, has him crying right along with you

Feels helpless that he can't make it better

"I should have been there to protect you."

"Obito, we didn't even know each other."

"That's irrelevant."

Is super comforting though, kisses your fingers and plays with your hair and tells you how much he loves you

Very eager to do anything in his power to make you smile

"Is there anything I can get you, baby? Do you want a glass of water? Tea? Sake? How about some ice cream? A foot massage? New kunai? A private island? Want me to kill all the world leaders tomorrow?"

He's excessive but its cute and makes you laugh

Is the only one considerate enough to actually ask if you're OK with him killing your abuser

If you say yes, he'll also ask if you want to watch

There won't be anything left of the person after Obito is done with them. No blood. Not a scorch mark. Not even a stray skin cell. Nothing. He completely erases them from existence.

If you say no though, he's probably still gonna do it anyway, but make it look like an accident. He just can't let that person live after what they did to you. 

But hey, at least he asked first right?

[castielsangelsx]

Imagine getting stuck in a closet with Sam

LONG IMAGINE 

REQUEST by @thatsabummer02: Could you do a long imagine with Sam Winchester? Like based in season one or two? Sam is just really awkward around the female!reader, and they get stuck in a small space together so she’s pressed against him and he gets turned on. She’ll tell him how it’s completely normal, and maybe they make out? Then Dean catches them and jokes about it to Sam.

WARNING: Sexual references (boner, slight grinding, making out and Dean’s usual banter)

I am so sorry for the long-ass wait, I am so bad at time management omg. I hope you like it, I am sorry if it's not what you visioned. This is my first ever long imagine request. Enjoy x

————————————————————

The hunt was beginning to get annoying. There was supposed to be a ghost in this one-story house. Yet, our search was growing thin.

It was relatively new, the tenants weren’t home, so finding this ghost was vital, hoping that if the owners came back, they wouldn’t have a clue that we were there.

Sam and I stuck together while Dean headed into the other room down the hall. It was a small room, looked to be a boys room. Car memorabilia everywhere. The tension in the room was tense, taut. Sam and I, we were really close. Well, we were close.

A couple days ago I confessed to Sam my deepest darkest secret. A horrible mistake really. I told him I liked him. I cringe every night in our hotel room, to this day. Obviously, Sam just looked at me in complete shock and fear, and the only thing he could answer back with was: “I’m sorry”.

Since then, our friendship has completely vanished, and now I feel absolutely shit. I’d pushed it aside for this hunt when Dean suggested Sam, and I check out this room together. I’d hoped it’d somewhat bring back what we had. But no, I’ve fucked it.

“I honestly don’t think the ghost is in the house. Surely it’s an object.” Sam nods at my response, he continues to search through the small drawer. Well, that was awkward. I hated this. The feeling in my gut was horrible. It was a mixture of anxiety and complete dread, this was all my doing.

Bang!

A loud sound emits from the hallway and Sam and I’s eyes darts towards the sound. “Sam Y/N!!” Dean screams from the hall entrance.

“Dean!” Sam and I scream back. Just as Sam and I dash towards the hallway. We spot it, the ghost. It’s pale white hovering form. A woman, her face angry. It’s head twists in our direction. Oh no, it’s spotted us. Deans in front of it, shotgun at the ready and salt on the other hand.

“Trust me, hide!” Throwing the salt towards us. I catch it swiftly.

“Dean, we can help you!” Sam yells. His face tensed, his jaw clenched tightly. But, the ghost had other ideas. Twisting towards us, it darts swiftly for Sam and me, its arms outstretched to grab at us. Dean fired a shot towards the ghost, making it vanish in a puff of swirly smoke.

“Just listen to me, Sam!” Sam huffs in acceptance and looks towards me with the salt clutched in my hand. 

“Come on!” Grabbing Sam by the forearm and pull him towards the room we were in just moments before. The small wall closet was the best option, it was enough to just fit us in. Pulling him in harshly, I trailed the salt along the outside. Making a barrier, almost like a circle around the cupboard.

Our bodies were pressed together, my arse connected to Sam’s waist. The sound of our deep breathing and loud muffled wails of the ghost were all to be heard. The sense of panic, deep in my chest. Sam’s arms pressed against the wall in front of us, attempting to push his waist further back. My gut bubbled with anxiety at our closeness, this was awkward. 

Sam’s lean chest and stomach was clenched against my lower back and ass. To say we were close was an understatement. Yet, the warm feeling in my lower abdomen was growing, this proximity was a turn on, to say the least. I couldn’t calm the loud thumping in my chest, I knew it wasn’t about the ghost anymore. 

I moved my hips lightly to the side, almost rubbing it against his waist. I did it on accident.

My eyes widened, as a hard thing, was at my arse. It wasn’t just a thing it was his dick. I am sure it is. Sam gasps and I’m speechless, my whole body in shock. Sam Winchester has a hard-on. I can feel Sam uncomfortable, he wiggles attempting to move further back, but I can’t help but sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. As he continues to justify himself, I interrupt him. 

“It's okay, it's normal. Its cause I’m pressed up against you.” I say, my attempt to reassure him. “Look, Sam, I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I should have never said anything in the first place without being one hundred per cent sure you felt the same as well. I know you don’t and all I have done is ruin our friendship.” I say. 

I needed to say it, it was just ready to be spoken. I needed to get it off my chest, this built-up angst and guilt needed to be shared. I’d hoped it wasn’t in our current circumstances with Sam having a boner,  well we can’t take it back now.

I twist my body around to face Sam, hoping it would ease the uncomfortable aura in the air. Sam’s caramel-hazel like eyes stared down at me, his face almost pink in embarrassment. 

“Y/N listen, you-know-what, fuck it-” grabbing me by the face his lips rammed into mine. I was shocked, my eyes widened in surprise at his sudden choice in movement. I softened, my hands fell onto his forearms, and my eyes limp closed. His lips were soft and slightly wet, but smooth. I deepened the kiss and twisted my head to the side, my heart was racing at over five hundred miles per hour at this point, and my mind was blank. This feeling was terrific yet short-lived.

Dean stood there, arms outstretched to open the cupboard doors. Sam and I rush apart in shock and Dean’s entrance. “Well Well Well, look what I’ve found.” I’m shocked, I have nothing to say to Dean, and I sense Sam doesn’t know what to say either. “Alright you two, let's go, the ghost is gone.” I bolt past Dean and Sam with the salt container in my hand. What the heck did I just do?

I didn’t know what to think, I’m nervous, but I’m excited at the same time. I know Sam doesn’t like me, but he kissed me, and that's what confuses me. All I know is Sam, and I’s friendship has gone down the drain. 

“Y/n, wait up!” Sam follows after me as I wait beside the impala. The fresh air hitting my face and cooling my warm cheeks down. 

“Sam I’m sorry, I should have never said anything.” Sam’s jaw clenches, and he grabs my arm. 

“Y/n I do like you, okay? Its the whole Jessica thing, I just can’t risk it at all, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” I nod and breathe out in an attempt to calm the anxiety rising up my stomach. “I do want to try with you though, I am happy to give us a go, but I am scared.” I look into his eyes, and I give him a small smile, and he returns the smile back. 

I hug him, I hope that equates to a yes. Sam wraps his arms around me, slightly leaning down to reach my full height. 

“Fucking finally, I couldn’t deal with all that crap you two were dealing with,” Dean says. Sam and I part, and we laugh lightly at Dean. 

They begin to get in the car, and I join by getting into the back of the impala. 

“Hey Sam, make sure that boner settles before we reach the motel cause I don’t want to pay for another room.” Sam laughs and looks to the floor of the impala, and I laugh in response. 

Dean looks up towards the review mirror to glance back at me. Dean’s face filled with a cheeky smirk. Oh, how we’re never going to hear the end of this.

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 28 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Hey guys. To anyone who’s still reading this story, thank you for your patience between chapters, I know it’s been slow! Here’s a link to the previous chapters. Thank you so much to some very patient and helpful betas: @opalescent-cheetah, @artificialpuddle, @blackhighheels 

Chapter Summary: Bianca faces the dreaded lawyer meeting. 

NOTE: The role of Bianca’s divorce attorney has been recast as Asia O’Hara. 

TW: Emotional abuse, physical intimidation, gaslighting, PTSD 

***

“B...don’t you want to take a break?” Courtney tries to speak casually, but she can feel the edge of frustration creeping in. Bianca has spent all weekend at the sewing machine, creating garments at a manic pace. She’s barely slept since her call with Asia on Thursday, and only eats or sleeps when Courtney forces the issue. What began as concern is now full-on anxiety over her health. “Come on...we could go for a walk. Or take a nap. And I made that pesto thing you like, so-”

“I just need fifteen minutes,” Bianca mumbles. If she can keep her hands busy, she doesn’t have to think about Asia’s words turning over and over in her mind.

Don’t expect any resolutions right away.

Be sure to send me the sonogram pictures and a blood test. They’re going to want immediate proof.

No one can predict how he’s going to react.

She doesn’t have time to stop and even acknowledge Courtney; she has no desire to bring Courtney into the firestorm of bullshit racing through her mind right now.

“You said that an hour ago.” Courtney sighs and walks closer, sitting on the edge of the table right beside her sewing machine.

“I have to finish these pants.” Bianca grits her teeth and presses the pedal harder, shoving the tweed fabric through the surger.

Courtney puts a hand on top of the machine and states matter-of-factly, “B, you’re working too hard.”

“Maybe you don’t work hard enough,” Bianca snaps back.

The second the words leave her mouth, dreads surges through her veins, making her heart race and her skin heat up. A terrible feeling creeps into her stomach. This is how it starts. A snide comment here, a sarcastic insult there. Why does she always alienate people? What’s wrong with her?

Her eyes are misty when she finally dares to raise them, to look at Courtney and assess the damage. Only when she does, it’s not an angry face glaring down at her. Courtney’s expression is a bit surprised, but mostly...amused?

“Perhaps,” Courtney says with a giggle. “But my point still stands. You need to take a break.”

Bianca nods, trying to get a grip on her emotions, which at the moment feel all over the map. She’s relieved, mostly, that Courtney isn’t angry or offended, but also drowning in guilt, and her heart still races with leftover panic.

Courtney tilts her head, noticing the color in her cheeks, the glassy-eyed stare, the way her shoulders stiffen.

“Are you okay?”

Bianca nods, afraid that if she speaks, it’ll all come spilling out. All the darkness that she’s been desperately trying to hold back. The fear, the anger, the exhaustion. Courtney runs a hand through her hair, a motion that would normally be welcome and soothing. But right now, it feels almost oppressive, making Bianca’s muscles tense even more.

When she still doesn’t speak, Courtney drags a chair over and sits down right beside her. She takes both of Bianca’s hands in hers.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Bianca.”

“I…” She doesn’t even know how to begin. The whole time she’s been living here, she’s been trying to force herself to listen to what everyone says about Jared. That what happened between them wasn’t her fault. And she does believe it, to a degree. But sometimes in her darkest hours, there’s still a sliver of doubt that creeps in.

What if it was my fault?

Because she remembers how sweet and loving and generous he was when they first met. How he showered her with love and affection. Went out of his way to make her feel special and loved and desired.

Just like Courtney does.

He wasn’t angry or cruel when they first got together. He became that way over months and years, and Bianca sometimes can’t shake the feeling that she made him that way. And even worse...her deepest fear, one she has barely even acknowledged to herself, is that not only did she make him like that. But that something inside her is so broken that she actually needs that destructive energy. That she can’t be in a normal relationship, or accept normal love.  

That no matter what she does, she will end up destroying the goodness in Courtney with her anger, her bitterness.

She’s not trying to hide these thoughts from Courtney, not exactly. She’s just so deeply ashamed, so terrified of being exposed as a monster.  

Courtney hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s still stroking the back of Bianca’s hands, waiting patiently for an explanation that Bianca knows isn’t coming. Because now, even if she wanted to, she can’t get any words out.

As hard as she tried to keep everything in, Bianca can’t stop the hot, bitter tears from streaming down her cheeks. She takes a few gasping breaths, but it’s not enough, not enough air. When she begins to hyperventilate, Courtney goes from gentle, supportive concern to overt worry, cupping her cheeks.

“Hey...look at me. We’re gonna breathe. In….out…” She nods as Bianca copies her breathing, desperately trying to pull herself together.

“Court, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to explain,” she chokes out.  

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Keep breathing...” She takes an exaggerated breath in.  

“No, I want to tell you...but I just…” Bianca’s breath hitches again.

“I know. I know you do.” Courtney gently brushes the tears from her cheeks. “But it can wait-”

“But you deserve an explanation.”

“It can wait,” Courtney repeats. “Just breathe.”

Bianca nods, finally releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. She sits silently, tears still trickling down her face, until her breathing is back to normal. She lets Courtney help her to her feet, pulling her into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m just...sometimes I get so scared that you’re gonna end up hating me.”

Courtney pulls back, looking into her eyes.

“I could never hate you. Ever,” she says.

“You say that now, but-” a sob escapes from Bianca’s chest, but she tries to push through. “But I say stupid shit, and I don’t mean it, but I-”

Courtney’s gently kissing away her tears. Her unending patience suddenly feels stifling, like Bianca will never be worth it.

“I know this is gonna end. I know I’ll fuck it up, I always do.”

Bianca watches Courtney take a deep breath, terrified that she’s already begun to destroy what they’ve worked so hard to build. Heart in her throat, stomach in knots, as she waits for the inevitable rejection.

“Look at me,” she says, waiting for Bianca’s eyes to meet hers before continuing. Saying adamantly, “I’m not him.”

Unable to respond with anything more than a slight nod, Bianca bites her lip.

“Do you hear me? I’m not him.” Courtney pulls her close again, holding her tight, lips grazing her ear. Bianca feels weak and dizzy from crying, finally allowing herself to lean on Courtney for support.

She’s not sure how long they stand there, but it’s long enough for the body heat to make her comfortably sweaty, for her lips to find Courtney’s, brushing against her in a light kiss.

“How are you doing?” Courtney murmurs. “Wanna lie down?”

“No.” Bianca tucks her face against Courtney’s neck.

“Wanna dance it out?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why not?!” Courtney asks, giggling. “Endorphins will make you feel better.”

“Good idea. Let’s have sex,” Bianca says against her skin, teeth grazing her jaw.

“Mmm, no. If we have sex when you’re upset, you’re gonna associate sex with trauma, which will take a lot of the fun out of it. No sex,” Courtney finishes decisively.  

“Ugh, you’re so bossy.”

“I’m bossy?” Courtney pulls back, one eyebrow so high it’s nearly to her hairline.

Bianca laughs, finally breaking the tension in the air. She reaches up to cup Courtney’s cheek, tired and grateful and relieved all at the same time.

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” Courtney asks.

“Yeah, alright,” she agrees, settling back into her chair with a sigh.

***

Courtney would never admit it out loud, but the truth is, she’s nervous. She’s seen these ultrasound pictures before--mostly in movies and TV shows--and she’s never seen anything but a floating amorphous blob. Is she gonna have to lie and tell Bianca that a blurry mass is beautiful? What’s she going to say when it comes up on the screen?

It turns out, her worrying is all for naught. Because when she finally does look at the screen, Bianca’s hand clasped in both of hers, what she sees is the shifting image of a baby.

“Oh my god!” she can’t help exclaiming. “It looks like a person!”

“What were you expecting?” Bianca laughs.

“Um...more like...somewhere between a potato and a spaceship.”

“Ahh.” Bianca nods, then deadpans, “So are you disappointed?”

“Yeah, I was really excited about that spaceship,” Courtney giggles, nuzzling against her and squeezing her hands.

The warm, affectionate mood is killed a little by how somber Bianca seems once they’re in the car. Courtney looks over at her, reaching over to touch her cheek.

“You alright, babe?”

“Yeah. I’m just sending some shit to Asia.” Bianca looks up from her phone, biting her lip.

“Right.” Courtney’s hit by a wave of sadness, mostly for Bianca. As excited as she knows Bianca is for the baby, as much as she’s dreamed about motherhood, she knows that the bittersweet reality must never fully leave her mind. The dark cloud of her divorce hangs over her all the time, even when she’s not talking about it--even when she seems fine.

Courtney leans over the center console to brush her lips against Bianca’s temple.

After letting out a deep sigh, Bianca throws her arms around Courtney’s shoulders and buries her face into her neck.

***

Courtney stands outside the bathroom door, contemplating how best to approach Bianca this morning. She’s getting ready for what’s likely going to be a long, terrible day. Her first meeting with Jared and the lawyers, where they are supposed to (hopefully) hash out the main points of their divorce settlement. She knows that Bianca has been anxious and worried all week, even though she’s been putting on a brave face.

But last night, it seemed like it all really hit her hard. She laid awake for hours, letting Courtney hold her and talk to her about everything and nothing, just to remind her that she wasn’t alone. Courtney hadn’t drifted off until the first rays of dawn began to slant through the window, and she’s not positive whether Bianca slept at all.

Knowing that this was coming, Courtney’s been planning a surprise weekend getaway for them. Now, though, Courtney wonders if this kind of surprise after a long day with the lawyers will be too much. Maybe she didn’t think the plan through very well. She bites her lip and pushes the door open.

The counter is littered with hair appliances and makeup and assorted beauty products, what looks like everything Bianca owns spread out and opened. There’s not a hair out of place, and her face is fully beat. Compared to the relaxed, softer look she’s been moving towards since she moved in with Courtney, it’s almost jarring to see her this glammed up again.

“Hey,” Courtney says, moving toward her slowly, careful not to disturb any of the open powders and pots and bottles. She offers a smile, adding, “You look beautiful.”

Bianca can’t help but feel defensive. Of course, Courtney is giving her a simple compliment. The kind she gives her all the time, every day. But her insecurity immediately turns it into a judgement.

“I’m not trying to impress him,” she says. Her feelings for Jared, at this point, are crystal clear--she has no interest in getting back together with him, is sure she never will. But for some stupid reason, she can’t bear walking into that office looking different than she had when they were married. It feels, in an unjustifiable way, like that would be admitting something to him; it feels like that would make her even more vulnerable than she already is. “I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Courtney replies. She can see the anxiety on Bianca’s face, her tense muscles, the little line where her brow furrows. Her heart aches for how scared Bianca must be feeling. She reaches out and gently touches Bianca’s sleeve. “And you don’t have to justify anything to me. Do whatever you need to prepare.”

Bianca puts down her mascara and sighs, closes her eyes. She feels anything but prepared. What in the world made her think that a little makeup and a curling iron would fix that? Courtney takes her hands.

“Hey...you can do this.”

Bianca looks up, her blue eyes cloudy with pain. She hopes it’s true, but a nagging voice in the back of her head is saying the opposite.

“I just...wish it was over.”

“I know.” Courtney tucks a lock of hair back, gently running a thumb against the shell of Bianca’s ear as she does so. “But hey...later today, it will be. And as soon as you’re done, you’re gonna come back home, and then I can tell you about your surprise.”

“Did I ever tell you that I hate surprises?” Bianca says, biting back a smile.

“You have. But you’re gonna like this one.” Courtney winds her arms tighter around Bianca’s neck. “I promise. And if you don’t...then, we can do it another time.”

“Yeah? So it’s something to do?” Bianca chases Courtney’s lips with her own, pressing her against the counter.

“You’re gonna ruin your lipstick…” Courtney slyly evades both the question and the kiss, teasing her.

“Worth it,” Bianca murmurs, finally capturing Courtney’s lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

***

Asia is true to her word. When Bianca arrives, they spend the morning together, going over the game plan and wish list. After a short lunch, most of which remains untouched, Asia escorts her into a conference room and waits with her, by her side, until Jared and his attorney show up.  

Bianca keeps her eyes down, trained on the blank legal pad in front of her. She can’t look at him. Even knowing he’s there turns her stomach. She does glance at his lawyer a few times. A petite Asian woman with dark eyes and glossy hair. He’s smart to have hired a woman. She’s not sure why it surprises her.

When the arbitrator arrives, she immediately gets down to business. The attorneys spend a few minutes discussing the big ticket items - their condo, the joint retirement account. Bianca is actually relieved that there’s a pre-nup, because it seems like it’s going to make everything go faster. She allows herself, for the briefest moment, to imagine that this might happen quickly.

Before they drill down into the details, Asia hands a paper across the table. It’s a disclosure statement, short and to the point, along with a copy of her last blood test. The most recent sonogram. The arbitrator looks it over, nods, and hands a copy to Jared’s attorney.

Bianca can sense Jared’s energy when his lawyer shows him. She hears his hands slam against the table, hears his lawyer do her best to quickly calm him down, get him to hush.

Her eyes are downcast, blurry with tears that begin to drip slowly down her nose, splashing on the legal pad. Asia puts a hand on her back.

“Do you need a break?” Asia whispers, and Bianca nods vigorously.

***

The meeting seems to disintegrate quickly once Bianca leaves the room, which doesn’t surprise her at all. She knew full well that this news was going to be a wrench in the plan. That Jared’s limited time of playing nice would be over.

Asia’s assistant brings her a glass of water, which she attempts to drink slowly, reminding herself to breathe every few seconds. She flexes her fingers and toes whenever they start to tingle, brings her focus back to the physical.

When Asia enters her office to give the update, she’s prepared. Jared is unwilling to negotiate any further. His lawyer quarantined him alone in another room to have his tantrum and requested to schedule a follow-up meeting in a few weeks. No financial agreements will happen until custody is worked out. They knew this would most likely be the case, so now it’s a waiting game until they see what Jared asks for.

Bianca nods.

“Are they still here?”

“They’re packing up now,” Asia tells her. “You’re welcome to stay here until you feel ready.”

“Thanks.”

Though all Bianca really wants is to go home, she takes her time, texting Courtney for a bit while she calms down. She doesn’t want to risk running into him in the lobby or at valet parking. She has a sick feeling when it’s time to go down to her car, and though she feels a bit silly, asks Asia if someone can walk her down.

Once she’s safely in her car, she breathes a sigh of relief. Soon she’ll be home; it’ll be over for the day. She’s even finding herself improbably excited for whatever surprise Courtney’s been planning all week. She takes a deep breath and pulls out.

Her relief is short-lived. At the parking gate, she rolls down her window to slide in her ticket, when Jared races up to the car like a bat out of hell, before she even knows what’s happening. He somehow manages to reach in, yanking the door open before she has a chance to react.

She has no idea what he’s screaming. All her brain can comprehend is the rage, the fury in his eyes as he rants at her, accuses her of all kinds of things. She knows she’s yelling back, telling him to stop, trying to pull her door closed, but he’s overpowering her, forcing her to listen to his tirade. It’s a complete out of body experience.

It must have been a hell of a commotion. Because the next thing Bianca knows, she’s somehow sitting on a bench by the elevators, head between her legs, as Asia’s heels come clicking towards her in a hurry.

“Bianca! Shit…” Asia sits beside her, places a hand on her back. “I’m so sorry. You’re supposed to be safe here.”

Bianca lifts her head. Her cheeks are wet with tears she doesn’t remember, and she scrubs at them with the sleeve of her jacket.  

“We’re gonna get statements from the guys down here, okay? I should be able to fast-track a restraining order.”

“Alright,” Bianca says, mind starting to spin. How are they supposed to negotiate a divorce under these conditions? What’s gonna happen to her baby?

“I don’t want you to drive right now. Is there someone we can call to pick you up?”

Bianca nods. Courtney’s waiting for her - probably expecting her to walk in the door at any moment. She pulls out her phone and goes to her recent calls with shaky fingers, then turns to Asia, grasping her sleeve.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Okay.” Asia takes the phone from her, glancing down at the screen. “I can handle it. Courtney? Is that your girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” Bianca closes her eyes, feeling useless and dumb, the way she always does when words fail her.

“I’ll fill her in, and then we can go upstairs to wait,” Asia tells her.

“Thanks,” is all Bianca can manage. She lowers her head again, praying for it all to be over quickly.

***

Last week, while filming a very awkward sex scene, Courtney let it slip to one of her favorite costars how stressed Bianca has been, and how she wished she could give her a break. He generously offered his house in Santa Barbara for the weekend, and Courtney figured that it would be the perfect way for Bianca to decompress after her meeting with the lawyers.

But all day, she’s been anxious. She was anxious while she packed their bags and loaded up the car, waiting to hear from Bianca. And she was anxious when Sasha arrived to pick up the puppies. So much that her friend immediately saw it and suggested that they have a cup of herbal tea while they wait for Bianca to finish.

Even after she gets the text that Bianca is on her way home, something gnaws at her stomach. She supposes that until she sees Bianca in person and knows that she’s truly okay, she won’t be able to feel better.

“Do you want me to wait with you until she gets home?” Sasha asks, a hand covering hers.

“Do you mind?” Courtney says, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Not at all.”

Courtney feels a little stupid and overly dramatic, but she’s grateful that Sasha is so perceptive. They chat about her students this term, and an art show she’s putting together, and when Courtney’s phone rings, she’s able to answer cheerfully.

“Hey baby, what’s up?”

“Hi, Courtney? This is Asia. Bianca’s attorney.”

Courtney feels her blood turning to ice, fear rushing through her.

“What’s wrong? Is she okay?!”

“She’ll be fine, but--Jared accosted her in the parking lot. She’s a bit shaken and I don’t think she should drive.”

“Oh, god.”

“Do you think you can come, and-”

“Of course!” Courtney exclaims. “Of course, I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Can you text me the address? I’m sorry, I just don’t have-”

“Absolutely, I’ll do that right now.”

“Thank you.” Courtney looks up at Sasha, panicked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll drive you.” Sasha’s already on her feet, placing the mugs into the sink and rinsing them. She grabs her keys and ushers the dogs into the carrier.

***

All Bianca feels is numb as she waits, fingers digging into the throw pillow in her lap. She has no idea how much time has passed when Courtney appears in the doorway, then flies straight to her.

Feeling Courtney’s arms around her, finally, unleashes something. She begins to cry, an unwelcome avalanche of tears that makes her hate herself even more.

“Baby…” Courtney crawls into her lap, stroking her hair and rocking her.

It feels like ages until she finds her voice again, choking out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong!” Courtney holds her tighter, cheek pressed to the top of her head. Her heart hammers in her chest, terrified of what Jared might do next, but knowing that her fears are nothing compared to what Bianca must be feeling.

“I’m just...sorry. I know you’ve been planning something, and I-”

“Oh jesus, Bianca, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re okay.” Courtney cradles her face and looks at her, eyes bright, brow furrowed in concern. “It was just a little weekend getaway thing, you know? We can do it another time.”

“Actually,” Asia interrupts, then looks a little chagrined when they turn to her. “Sorry for eavesdropping, I just wanted to tell you that it might be a good idea. For you to go out of town for a couple of days. I don’t want to freak you out, but...at least until the protective order is in place.”

“When will that be?” Bianca asks tiredly.

“Monday morning,” Asia says. “I promise. We have everything we need.”

Bianca nods.

“Well...if that’s what you want, we could go,” Courtney says, smoothing down her hair. “I have all our bags packed and in the car downstairs.

“What about the dogs?”

“They’re downstairs too. With Sasha. She drove me here because she was gonna watch them this weekend. Is that okay?”

Bianca nods, then asks quietly, “Can I see them first?”

“Of course!” Courtney leans forward to kiss the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Whatever you need.”

They sit together for a few more minutes, until Bianca feels composed again--as much as she can, considering the circumstances. Courtney slides off her lap and offers a hand, helping her to her feet.

The leave hand in hand, fingers laced together, Bianca gripping Courtney tightly to keep herself grounded. As they wait for the elevators, she manages to give Courtney a small, grateful smile.

[waiting4inspiration]

Be Ruthless VI : Her Cheek

Summary: The day of your wedding ceremony and all you can do is dread the oncoming night. Ivar promises himself to find out more about that mark he saw on your cheek

Warnings: arranged marriage, strong language, mention of abuse, angsty (if I missed anything, please let me know) 

Be Ruthless Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

It is as if the moment the ship docked in Kattegat, people were frantically preparing for the wedding. Ivar wants it done within the week. He wants to get it over with just as much as you do. But you also want to get used to your new home before having to be a queen to it. Nonetheless, you just let things happen in a frantic state around you.

You don’t share many words with your intended husband during the week. Not after the incident on the ship anyway. You only speak to him when needed and it’s no more than one sentence. The only reason you know what was going on was because of one of his brother’s wife, Torvi. She explains things to you as they happen and tells you what you can expect during the ceremony. You are thankful to have her by your side. It was as if she was the calm amidst the chaos surrounding you.

Torvi explains that the ceremony will take place on Frigga’s sacred day as she is the Goddess of marriage. She mentions that everything will be done in their language and even goes as far as to teach you the words that will be said and what you will have to say. It’s a long, tedious process and you have no real chose but to go through with everything.

Though you don’t know it, Ivar keeps a close eye on you throughout the week. Since you won’t tell him that secret you’re so desperately clinging onto, he tries to figure it out himself by watching you closely. But nothing leads him closer to figuring it out. All he’s seen is you trying to understand this new way of life, learning what is expected of you at the ceremony. And he can’t help but smile at your attempts at speaking his language.

When he sees you the day of the ceremony, it’s almost as if you are a completely different person. The fear is still in your eyes but it’s masked by the concentration of what you have to do. Compared to when he saw you the previous day, you no longer look like an English princess but like a Viking woman. Ivar suspects that it’s the braids in your hair - the work of Torvi no doubt - that have to do with this change in appearance. 

From last he heard you reciting the words you have to speak, today your pronunciation is slightly better. Though there’s room for improvement. Ivar has to hide the chuckle in his chest when you flinch as the matriarch flicks the blood-soaked fir twigs towards you, sprinkling your face with blood. 

Throughout the feast at the end of the ceremony, you only spoke when you needed to. Otherwise, you would just sit in your seat with your hands neatly folded in your lap. Ivar knows that you’re preparing yourself for what will happen at the end of the night. Just like every Christian virgin, you’re probably dreading having to consummate your marriage with a ‘savage brute’ like him. 

In truth, you are preparing yourself for what you know will happen. But not because you’re terrified about the actual act, you’re dreading the memories you know will flood through your mind. And just thinking about that now already causes you to remember the time that man...

Shaking your head to get prevent the thought from going any farther, you sigh loudly and lower your gaze to your hands. Focusing on the sounds of the drunken men around you seems to help ease the memory away. But there’s still that pang of anxiety every moment when your concentration of not thinking about it breaks. 

A man says something, stirring up some cheers and laughs of the men crowding the room. When Ivar grabs your hand, you know that the time has finally come. Standing from your seat with him, you walk towards the door with him, keeping your gaze fixated on the ground as men wolf-whistle when you pass. 

Because your eyes are on the ground, you don’t notice Ivar glaring coldly at the men whistling. Behind you follows six witnesses to make sure that the marriage is official. You can hear their steps behind you and it makes that anxiety inside of you grow again. Ivar, noticing your fear, stops walking and harshly turns around to the people following you. 

Your gaze snaps between them as he sneers something at them. They seem to hesitate whatever order he’s given them but with a few words, they simply nod their heads and walk away from you before Ivar starts to lead you away from the feast again. 

So he managed to get rid of the witnesses. But it didn’t mean that he wasn’t planning on forgetting his duty, right?

You never thought that you would be so intimidated by a simple bed. But there it is. Staring directly into your soul and making your body shake in fear. Ivar’s hand left yours sometime when you walked into the room, but you don’t remember when. Jumping when his hands land on your shoulders, you let out a shaky sigh that mimics your trembling body. 

The reason Ivar places his hands on your shoulders is to steady your shaking body. What he doesn’t know is that that one gesture broke that dam you built to stop those memories from flooding your mind. It was the first gesture that man made all those years ago when he... 

“You’re afraid,” he whispers, his lips touching your ear as tears start to brim your eyes. “Why? Because I’m a heathen?” he questions, digging his fingers into your arms when you try to pull away from him. “Because you fear the sanctity of your chastity being taken by a brute like me?” 

Shaking your head vigorously, you shut your eyes to hide the tears. “No, it’s not like that...” you weakly whisper, giving up on trying to pull out of his grip as your head drops between your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to offend you, my lord.”

“Ivar,” he says, your head lifting up to him. “No more of this ‘my lord’ shit,” he orders, his hands falling away from your shoulders as he walks away from you and towards a chair close to the hearth with a burning fire inside it. 

Staring at the back of his head in confusion, you glance over at the bed before back to him. “I don’t understand,” you whisper, looking back at the bed. 

He lifts his head up at you as he falls down in his seat. Noticing you staring at the bed, he laughs loudly making your head snap back to him. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he questions, the crudeness making your body shake again as you drop your gaze to the ground.

Ivar chuckles at your action and moves to undo the braces around his legs, grunting as he struggles to reach some of the straps. Hearing him struggle, you turning toward him and watch him stretch over his legs. “Do you need help?” you ask, his eyes glaring up at you. 

“No, because I love struggling to get these damn things off my legs,” he sneers, giving you a sarcastic look before glancing down at his legs. You don’t move from your spot and just stare at the ground. “Are you going to help me or not?” he snaps, glaring back up at you.

Swallowing hard, you move across the floor to kneel in front of him. You run your eyes over the braces and slowly bring up your hands to undo the straps. Ivar keeps his eyes on your face, watching as you examine the braces. Glancing over at your infamous cheek, he starts to wonder if your fear for tonight is linked to the bruise he’s determined he saw there. 

He groans when you pull the mechanism off his legs and he digs his fingers into the armrest of the chair. Your eyes snap up at the sounds of his discomfort and run over his face that tries to hide his pain. Shaking your head, you glance back down at the braces in your hands. “Why do you wear these,” you begin to say, looking up at him as he stares down at you. “if they cause you pain?”

Ivar narrows his eyes at you making a breath catch in your throat and you to drop your eyes to your hands. You didn’t think that it might have been a personal question and by his reaction - that muscle tensing in his jaw - you know that you might have hit a nerve. 

But he knows that sooner or later, he’ll have to talk about his deformity. Might as well get it over and done with so that you don’t bring it up again. “I wear them so that I can walk like a normal man,” he simply explains, thinking to himself that it’s a good enough answer. 

“You hide what makes you different from everyone else just because you want to fit in?” you question, glancing back up at him as he bites his lower lip.

He takes in a deep breath, slightly shaking his head at you. “People will respect me if I’m not dragging myself around on the ground,” he firmly states, leaning closer to your face.

You keep your eyes on his as you frown. “People will respect you if you give them a reason to respect you. Regardless of whether or not you can walk like them,” you whisper, keeping a steady gaze up at him. 

His eyes fall to the cheek again. He doesn’t know why, but every time he stares at your face, he finds his eyes always landing on the same spot. It’s not because of the bruise he saw that draws him to it but rather the secret behind it that you keep so deeply hidden. 

When he brings his hand up to touch the cheek, you involuntarily flinch away, your mind expecting a more harsh action than just a touch because you probably spoke out of line. Ivar, of course, notices the action and quickly withdraws his hand. 

You thought he was going to harm you? That he intended an action more menacing than just a simple touch? Is that how you see him? Shaking his head to himself as he watches your eyes open when nothing happens, you stare up at him in confusion and slight fear. 

“You must be tired,” he bluntly says, nodding towards the bed. “Get some rest, wife,” he orders and you don’t say anything against it. 

You obey his words because you’re brother’s demands ring through your mind. “Make him happy” repeats over and over again like a cruel motivation. But when you glance over at your new husband, you notice that he has no intention of joining you. Well, not anytime soon. 

Ivar pays close attention to the rhythm of your breathing. When it gets deeper and tells him that you are asleep, his head snaps over to you before he lowers to the ground. Crawling over to the bed and pushing himself up onto it, his eyes - once again - find their way to the side of your face. 

He doesn’t know what you had done to receive that mark that night he saw it or why you are afraid to talk about it or why you’re afraid of his touch... But he knows that he will do everything in his power to find the answers to those questions.

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