#sorry to be a mood killer but I thought I should be clear about where I’m at

[missmouse43]

I’d like to go on record as saying I have never believed in the JJ dying rumours.

BUT.

If I am wrong and the worst does happen, that’s a wrap on my time in the fandom. Sorry if it sounds like I’m being dramatic, but I’ll be out of here pretty darn quickly (not without saying goodbye of course) And thinking about that possibility makes me very sad, but JJ dying would kill any joy I have left for this show. Full stop.

That being said I’m still optimistic we’re going to get some amazing JJ content in part 2 and I am incredibly excited to see Rudy flex his phenomenal acting skills. The spotlight is entirely on him right now and I couldn’t be happier for him. I fully expect some great Jiara moments as well.

No matter how it ends part 2 is going to be epic and I truly hope (🤞🏻) I’ll have a reason to stick around and discuss it all with you while we wait for season 5.

Good night, and good luck!

[gghostwriter]

Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you. 

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.” 

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.” 

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.” 

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.” 

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through. 

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again. 

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved. 

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out. 

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain. 

Out—muffled voices all around him. 

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go. 

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by. 

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him. 

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain. 

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace. 

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands. 

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him. 

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him. 

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement. 

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector. 

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again. 

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car. 

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi! Congratulations on hitting 1000 followers!

For the celebration, can I please get Raymond Smith and "Why are you in my house?"

Thank you!

Masterlist

Late Night Drop In

Contains: Harassment, violence, mild angst, fluff.

1.3K words

“A gentleman is someone who does not what he wants to do, but what he should do.”- Haruki Murakami.

"I'm glad you could come y/n." Raymond was as stiff as ever as he sipped his whiskey. 

"There's not much else to do on a Wednesday night, plus Ros invited me." You could never tell if he liked you or not, sometimes, you would get along like a house on fire, and sometimes he acted like you weren't even there, but he was a particular man at the best of times. 

"Can I get you a drink?" So he was in a good mood tonight. 

"Sure, I'll take a beer." He waved the bartender over and a pint of slid in front of you, "Thanks. How's work been?" 

"Busy, the legal market is something else. What about you, did you manage to get that grant?" For someone who didn't seem interested, he sure remembered a lot.  

"I did, it's looking like we'll be able to pay for an extension to the clinic." You had a feeling Mickey might have had something to do with it, but if Ray helped was another thing altogether.

 The smile he gave you was genuine, "That's great news." 

"Yeah, I'm over the moon..." 

"Hey, can I get your number?" You blinked at the man who appeared between you and Ray; he stood so close to your that you could smell the booze on his breath. 

"No." Ray's eyes went from your face to the man as he took in the situation. 

"Come on, it's just your number. I'm not a serial killer." That's just what a serial killer would say, you thought to yourself. 

"I said no. I was having a conversation with my friend now, please leave me alone." You felt a shudder up your spine as his face hardened. 

"The lady made her point, it's time for you to leave." Ray's voice was deceptively calm, but you knew that didn't mean anything.

"Listen bit...." You managed to move out of the way as Ray ripped him away from you, "What the fuck do you want?" 

Ray pushed his glasses back up, "I want you to leave my pub." 

He spun on his heel, but it became clear that it was only to hide the fact that he was pulling a knife from his jacket, "You wanna be a tough man, ah?" 

Ray moved in a flurry, and there was a sickening crack as he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted. The man seemed to have a death wish because he swung at Ray with his uninjured hand after dropping the knife. 

There was a moment where you could see the rage on Ray's face, then it was back to its calm mask as he took the man to the ground, "Get out now." 

"Fuck y...." 

"You heard the man, get out. Everyone else too." Mickey's accent cut through the air like a razor and people scrambled to leave. 

The man went pale when he realised what he had done and tried to stutter out a reply, "I'm sorry man, I had no idea." 

Ray looked right through him, "Get out, or I will drag you out." 

On the way, Rosalind threw him a wade of cash, "For your wrist, if you tell anyone about what happened here, we'll make sure everyone you know sees the survivance tapes." 

Ray was back to sipping his whiskey like nothing had happened, and Mickey wandered over with a smile, "You wanna tell me what just happened?" 

"Ray could have gotten himself killed over some idiot is what just happened." You didn't know why you were so pissed about it, he probably saved you a night in A&E. 

"I did what I had to so that guy didn't hurt you." He sounded worried, not angry. 

"I didn't ask you to do that. Just like I didn't ask you to take me home the night I was drunk or follow me for three days when that asshole from the clinic started stalking me." When he wasn't ignoring you, he really did go out of his way for you. 

"You don't seem to know who you're friends with, we have people who could gain a lot by getting their hands on you." Ray regretted how he posed it the moment it came out of his mouth. 

You huffed, "Oh, so this is about business? Here's me thinking you're just over an overzealous friend." You picked up your bag and headed towards the door, "I'm going home, it's outside business hours so I don't need to be here." 

Ray rubbed his face as the door closed and Mickey went behind the bar and poured Ray another drink, "You need to tell her how you feel." 

Ray sighed, "You really think she's going to want to see me after that?" 

Ros cleared her throat and sipped her wine, "You never know Ray, she might feel the same way about you." 

Ray blinked and the realisation hit him, "Ah fuck." 

Mickey nodded, "Ah fuck indeed Ray." 

****

You shot out of bed when you heard the cupboards open and reached under your bed to pick up the baseball bat, which you proceeded to drop when you saw Ray in your kitchen, "Why are you in my house?"

"I need to talk you." He was in different clothes and it looked like he hadn't been to bed. 

"At three in the morning, how did you get in here and what is the pressing matter you need to discuss?" You had a bad feeling it would be about something you were hesitant to name. 

"I used the key you hid under the mat. I want to say sorry for how I acted and what I said. It was wrong and uncalled for." He paused and took a breath, "I have been keeping something from you and it has caused me to act badly." 

You vaguely recall telling him it was there when he took your drunk ass home that night, "Ok, you wanna tell me what it is?"

He took another breath before meeting your eye, "I have grown quiet fond of you and I was unsure of how to tell you." 

"You have grown fond of me, are you saying you love me?" He nodded and went to speak but you held up a hand, "So you choose to tell me this now and not before you broke a man's wrist on my behalf?" 

Ray sighed, "Yes, and I'm sorry for that." 

You sighed and flopped down on the couch, "Did Ros say anything to you?" 

He nodded, "She may have mentioned something." 

"Then I guess this is my fault too and we're both guilty of hiding our feelings." You didn't miss the small smile that ticked up Ray's plump lips before he got himself back under control. 

Ray came and sat beside you, "I see, and how long have you returned my feelings?"

"Since the night I got drunk, I was surprised I didn't tell you there and then." You took his hand in yours and squeezed, "I love you Raymond." 

His face finally broke into a smile, "I love you too y/n." 

You leaned in and closed the gap, pressing your lips to his as he took your face in his hands. You pulled back and rubbed his nose with yours, "I really want to go back to bed, maybe you can join me?" You cut him off as a smirk grew on his face, "Just to sleep you heathen." 

Ray stood up and took you with him, kissing you one last time before gesturing towards the bedroom, "After you love." 

He stood in your bedroom with a strange look on his face and pointed to his jeans and you sighed, "You can sleep in your boxers, it's not like I'm not going to be seeing at a lot you." 

Ray stripped off and you averted your eyes so you didn't gawk when he was left in nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. You threw back the covers on the unused side, patted the pillow, and Ray climbed into bed. You paused for a moment and Ray seemly got the message and opened his arms. 

You snuggled close and rested your head on his chest, his heart drumming under your ear, "Goodnight Ray, I love you." 

He pressed his lips to your forehead and ran his hand up and down your arm, "Goodnight y/n. I love you too." 

Fin

[summercourtship]

Hi, could you write a nsfw oneshot or something for the Cenobite with a shy and modest fem survivor reader? Possibly include some fingering and using his hands. Thanks if you do!

I'm sorry this took so long, I obviously got a bit carried away. I have such a bad habit of needing SO MUCH exposition even for tiny one shots (or at least what are supposed to be tiny) but I’m not going to stop. I’m also not sure how well I fulfilled the idea of a “shy, modest” reader, but I think I managed to have elements of it without it becoming a stereotypical mess of stuttering and blushing.

summons [nsfw, 18+]

Pinhead (The Cenobite) x Reader | warnings: NSFW, reader could be interpreted as being a virgin but it’s not explicitly stated, I somehow made the Lament Configuration solving erotic (it’s what Clive Barker would want) | 3121 words

It was always unnerving to realize that a killer remembered you. To notice that shift in their expression as they placed your face to a memory, to an action that had made you stick out in their mind. Some killers seemed to remember everyone while others only recognized a select few. Some didn’t seem cognizant of doing either.

Luckily, you had always managed to fly under their radar. Even the killers that had memorized every survivor regarded you with an air of disinterest, preferring to go after the overtly obnoxious survivors (which was probably part of those survivors’ plans- Nea really hated fixing gens). Some could say that it was because you were boring, at least in the way of prey. You didn’t necessarily agree, but if killers thinking you were boring kept you alive you wouldn’t argue about it.

However.

There was one killer who seemed… overly interested in you because of this. Somehow your reserved nature was more intriguing to him than that of the unafraid or blatantly uncaring survivors. You didn’t understand it, but you also didn’t want to.

You didn’t want anything to do with it.

The Cenobite was an oddity among oddities- barely even touching the survivors and treating your suffering with a cold grace. In the few moments you’d been able to observe him, he seemed unaffected by anything, continuing his hunt seemingly without a care in the world.

When you were one of his designated playthings for a trial, you avoided the Box, even if it meant your continued survival. You couldn’t handle the thought of possibly summoning him, bringing the being you knew was somehow fascinated with you directly to your location.

You just did your damnedest to finish repairing gens and move on to the next trial with the usual indifferent killers, taking extra care to stealth when you knew he was coming. Because if he caught sight of you, he wouldn’t stop pursuing you throughout the trial, preferring to torment you than spread the pressure amongst your teammates.

But, despite your efforts, not every trial with him could work out this way, as was the case for the trial you found yourself in now. You had been just barely surviving through your stealth tactics when it seemed that the survivors were rapidly downed, one quickly falling after the other.

You rushed to pull them off hooks or patch them up enough to stand, only briefly hesitating when you felt your own safety was in danger. You pushed it aside, putting your team’s survival over your own sense of sanity. They would eventually pay you back in kind, and the cycle would continue.

But it seemed that luck was not on your side.

One, two, three survivors were all hooked for the last time, their cut off screams piercing the night air.

And suddenly, you were the only one left.

Somewhere, both too close and impossibly far away, a bell tolls.

You’re frozen in place, too on edge to even contemplate searching for the Hatch. You’d been in similar situations before, but this time felt different- it was as if the air was electrified from your nervous anticipation.

And never before had you been left alone with him.

Before long, the consequence of your hesitation becomes clear- the chains that he summons from nothing have started seeking you out, the few that reach you embedding their hooks in your skin. You hiss, jerking back into life and unhooking yourself, trying to be as careful as possible to not rip your skin off.

It would not be the worst pain you have felt in this place.

You set off, struggling through the terrain of the Macmillan Estate until you reach one of the smattering of brick walls that litter the Entity’s realms. Here, at least you would have some protection from the chains, giving you time to figure out what you were going to do next.

Find Hatch or wait by the Exit Gate, hoping he closes the Hatch with enough time for you to slip out? You’re debating the two options in your head, knowing full well it’s not the best use of your time but feeling unable to make a decision and get your feet moving.

You’d just mentally circled back around to the option of booking it for Hatch that you realize you were being observed. And he wasn’t even hiding like some of the others would, no crouching behind the brick or staying by the tree line. He’s simply standing there, as if waiting for you to realize he was there.

You look up at him, wondering how you hadn’t noticed his presence before. He blocks the only other exit from your shelter that isn’t a window, something you note with a growing sense of dread. No prey likes feeling cornered.

But he hasn’t moved to attack, just standing and staring at you. You take a moment to observe him back, noting the impassive expression on his face. He doesn’t move, even once you’d been made aware of him. You narrow your eyes and glare at him, ignoring the thwacking of the chains hitting the ground and walls behind you, already tired of whatever game he is playing, not in the mood to be toyed with.

“What do you want?” You ask, willing your voice to stop wavering. For once, you wanted to seem like the brave, outgoing survivor, willing to stand up to the killer for nothing more than the satisfaction of having done so.

A beat of silence, and you almost think he won’t answer. But he does, and his response is more confusing than clarifying.

“You.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

More silence.

Then, a crackling draws your attention downwards, to the small, unassuming box that lay on the ground in the space between you. The very box you had done your best to avoid touching, even looking at. You wonder, briefly, if it had been there the entire time.

“Solve it.” His voice is commanding yet gentle, coaxing yet sinister. There’s power behind it, a power that isn’t being utilized at the moment.

“No.” It’s an easy answer for you. There are few things you are sure of in the Fog, but not touching anything that belongs to a killer is one of them.

“Aren’t you curious?”

That was not what you had been expecting him to say. Suddenly, you were no longer sure about the subject of your conversation. The Box still lay between you, ready for your willing hands to run along its smooth surface, finding the small grooves that would lead you to further unlocking its mystery. But while you had been focusing on the Box, his eyes had never left you.

Because he knew that ultimately, yes. You were curious, and always had been. About everything, but you’d always been too shy, too afraid of other’s thoughts about you to try anything even mildly risky. Better to stay on the safe side and hear about other’s exploits instead of experiencing your own.

“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Then…” With a long fingered hand, he gestures to the Box.

Your hands shook as you reached down to pick it up, finding its smooth surface both warm and cool at the same time, its weight heavier than you had anticipated.

You looked back up at the Cenobite, ignoring the faint tinkling of a music box’s tune that you could now hear coming from the Box.

“What do I do?”

You were sure it couldn’t be but so difficult- less intelligent survivors had completed its puzzle under significantly more stressing circumstances than you. But you couldn’t bring your mind to command your hands to begin, some invisible wire holding your muscles back from taking action.

Maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, watching you intently.

He moved closer and you barely resisted the urge to move backwards, your grip on the Box tightening as if afraid he would take it from you. He stopped just before you and reached out, not to take the Box but to guide your hands. But instead of placing his hands over yours as you had anticipated, they hovered barely a centimeter above your skin.

“There is a force in this realm that makes solving the Lament Configuration child’s play.”

You look up at him, wondering if he had just delivered a thinly veiled insult. If he, in saying that solving it should be easy, was implying that you were too unintelligent to figure it out. You open your mouth to begin defending yourself.

“I-“

“You’ve refused it,” He continues as if you’d never started speaking, “even when it is to your detriment. But the Configuration is meant for those who seek to heighten their senses, for sensations that the earthly world cannot provide. Opening it is not supposed to be easy.”

You look down at your hands, at his.

“For those who summon us must be sure that it is what they want, for once we are summoned we cannot leave without a charge. It cannot be helped.”

He places his hands over yours now, guiding them along the edges of the Box (the Configuration, you correct yourself). Your hands are seemingly electrified from where his skin meets yours, though a sizable portion of his hand is covered in leather.

“Here it seems that, although alone, I work under different rules. The Box was made simpler and perverted into a means to assist in feeding this Entity.”

With his guidance, you are able to find the minuscule lines in the surface of the box, pushing and shifting the pieces until they form a completely new shape. But before you are able to push the final piece into place, thus completing the puzzle, he releases his hands and steps back.

“There is no need to finish it.”

You blink, feeling like you’d just woken from a hazy waking dream.

“But why did I do it in the first place?”

“I won’t have to hunt you down the next time we find ourselves facing each other. It is very tiresome when you hide from me constantly.”

He turns around like he’s about to go, either to finally kill you or let you scamper off to find the Hatch, but you aren’t ready for him to leave yet.

“Is that it?” You blurt out and almost take it back when he turns his head, indicating that you have his attention once more. But you swallow your fear and continue on, holding your chin higher. “You just wanted me to solve this box? To what? Prove to myself that I can, so that you don’t have to do as much work the next time you’re going to kill me?”

He whirls around, but there is barely any change in his expression from before. He was near impossible to read, you were quickly learning.

“I don’t get it- if you’re summoned for those who want pleasure or pain or whatever, why are you so interested in me? I don’t want any of that.”

“You don’t want pleasure?”

Your face heats up, any bravery you had felt in delivering your speech gone. You look down at your hands, still holding the almost solved Lament Configuration.

“The rules of this place may be different, but I am still obliged to answer the summons.” His words, at first, make no sense.

And then you realize what he is implying, and your face must be on fire for how hot it feels. If he was summoned for those who want whatever version of pleasure or pain he provided, then you solving the Configuration meant that he could…

Ohhhkay.

You turn from him, fully intending to put the box down and sprint for the Hatch and think about this encounter later at the campfire, but the quiet, nagging voice in the back of your head stops you.

Aren’t you curious?

Before you can rationalize and deny the urge, you act on impulse for once and press the final piece into place on the Box, the tinkling music stopping abruptly.

While you’ve had your back turned, he must’ve crept up closer on you, because you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder.

You gasp, both from surprise and the sensation of his touch once again on you. He slowly ran his hand down your body, from your shoulder down your arm, before making its way to your front. Your breathing was picking up, hitching in the back of your throat when his other hand snuck around and plucked the box from your grasp. It’s gone when you turn your head to look at it, and you’re too focused on his touch to really ponder what happened to it.

You reach out and press your own hand against the brick wall in front of you, using the rough texture to ground yourself in reality, as much as you could in the hellish purgatory that you were trapped in. But the reality of this moment was that he was touching you in such a simple way, barely vulgar at all, but you felt as if you were being lit on fire with the way his touch seared your skin, even over the layers of your clothes.

His fingers dance over the hem of your pants, toying with the button. You’d always liked that the Entity put you in pants most of the time, their practicality better for your environment than the potential fashion statements you could’ve been making in something else. But now you wish that the Entity had decided to put you in one of the nonsensical outfits the others occasionally donned, if just for the easy access a skirt provides.

Nonetheless, he deftly undid the button and continued his journey down your body, not bothering to even pull your pants down. He completely ignored your underwear, apparently not in the mood to tease you over the fabric. You weren’t complaining, wanting whatever he was going to give you as quickly as possible.

It was now that you fully realized how cold his hands were, which only made you more aware of every centimeter of your skin that he ran his fingers along. Down over your stomach, a feather light touch that was approaching where you needed it the most.

The Cenobite found his way in between your legs with little fanfare, finally exploring the part of your body that, unbeknownst to you, he had thought of whenever he saw you in a trial. He toyed briefly with just running his touch up and down your slit, causing you to shudder and drop your head. But before long, he ended up at that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking it just to hear you moan. His finger circled around your clit, applying just enough pressure for it to register in your mind but not enough to really scratch the itch that had been building since he’d placed his hands over yours to solve the box.

He was silent behind you, but you didn’t think he wasn’t actively enjoying what he was doing to you, if the way his teasing touches would briefly speed up when you let the little sounds building up behind your lips escape was any indication. Or the way his breathing, though quiet and low, would hitch when you would whimper, groan, hiss.

He finally moved lower, teasing at your entrance. You whimper again, closing your eyes. But he didn’t do anything aside from dipping his fingers in, for barely a second, giving you just a taste of the pleasure you needed. He teased more than you would have expected, but you also wouldn’t have expected him to want to fuck you.

“Please,” your whisper is broken, your mind hazy and unable to compose a more elegant plea. You curse under your breath when he does it again, moving back up to your clit to circle it a couple more times.

“You can do better than that,” He says, and you, in your fuzzy mind, think you detect a hint of humor in his voice.

“Fuck- please.” You roll your hips, as if to entice him to finally get to it. But he holds fast, your (pathetic) attempt to seduce him into giving in to your whims failing. He pauses in his movements.

“Fine! Please, please, please, please fuck me, put your fingers in me, I don’t care just please make me cum!”

You wonder, briefly, in the back of your mind, if the Entity is watching.

Two of his fingers finally slip into you, and you barely hold back a curse, forgetting whatever inane thought you had before. All you could focus on was the fact that he was finally giving you what you wanted, that he was finally done teasing.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, dragging them along your walls and hitting every sensitive spot that you didn’t even realize existed within you.

“For such a shy woman, you make delightful sounds,” He mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear over the heartbeat pounding in your ears. Whether it’s yours or his, you cannot tell.

Quickly, much too quickly, you feel your climax approaching, and any sense of the amount of time you’ve spent at his mercy is lost to you. All you know is that he is touching you in a way that makes you feel like no one has ever made you feel and that you want to reach your peak now.

As it builds, you release a litany of pleas, begging with broken words and fragmented sentences.

You finally finish with a sharp, drawn out and shuddering gasp, his fingers curling into the spot that makes your toes curl, sharply punctuating every ripple of pleasure that your body rides.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it is over.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you turn to face the Cenobite, who looks as unaffected as he had before. He examines his glistening fingers not even looking at you when he tells you to find the Hatch. If you’re stung by his sudden disinterest in you, you don’t show it, opting to add it to the growing mental list of things to think about later.

On shaky legs, you comply with his demand, stealing one last glance back at him as you leave him. You had no idea if this would be a one off occurrence, or if he would regularly find his own way to answer your summons, if he would make good on his statement that he is summoned for those who wish for pleasure and pain.

The only way to find out would be to summon him.

___

ao3 link

[yandere-sins]

Hello! How are you? May I pls request the prompts scratches and collar for Sakusa Kiyoomi for the yandere writing challenge thingy? I hope this is alright! Thank you <3

Thanks for requesting!! Sakusa is one of my favorites actually, so I am really excited to write for him! uwu Please enjoy!

Scratches - “Try that again sweetheart, I dare you.” (I don’t want to overlap prompts too much, so I am doing just this one!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Living with Kiyoomi had never been easy.

When you two got married, you’d been quite intimidated by him after your husband wouldn’t look at you even once the whole day. You thought to yourself about how much he must have hated you, considering he only agreed because you two had been promised since your childhood. This marriage didn’t seem like something he was interested in, and the moment you were ‘unloaded’ at his home, you felt like the strangest organism in the whole world.

Nonetheless, you tried to be liked. If you at least couldn’t be a nuisance to him, you thought he might accept you as his partner. But all your attempts backfired gloriously. He wouldn’t eat your cooking, clean over your cleaning, ignore you after he came home from training. For the first year or so, he wouldn’t even take you to one of his matches. You were sure other spouses were allowed to go, so why not you?

But you got used to it. You had to, somehow, or else you probably would have never stopped feeling unloved and unwanted. It wasn’t what you expected, hearing about love all this time, but you didn’t have a bad life by his side, at least. His accounts were filled with money, food was delivered fresh to your doorstep every day, and though you didn’t know anyone in the city that you two settled in, you got along well enough with your neighbors, so you didn’t feel too lonely.

And what you least expected, once you accepted that you and Kiyoomi could never be an item, he started to relax too. Had you been too much? Maybe pushing him too far without realizing? Intruding on him? Or perhaps he had just been told to be nicer to you by his parents, but your surprise was great when he joined you to watch TV one evening.

Given, he didn’t speak a word and didn’t seem too interested in the show you were watching. There also were about two seats free between you, but it was a start. And gradually, your relationship improved.

»»———————— ♡

Nervously, you looked at your outfit, wondering if it was too much. Kiyoomi had never asked you to dress up to accompany him before, scowling whenever you decided to try and impress him with your fashion sense or asked to go with him. Even now, you knew that asking you to come and meet sponsors was just a way to look good in other people’s eyes; he even had a suit delivered to him that day. It wasn’t you who was wanted. It was the image of being married to someone. But as his partner, maybe that was the only thing you could do to please your husband.

“Are you ready?” he asked through the door, not daring to step into your room. He never had entered it ever since you moved in, and you wondered if it was because he disliked you so much or because he feared you were ‘dirty’. But you gave yourself an encouraging nod in the mirror, quickly making your way out. “All done!”

You didn’t expect him to stand right in front of the closed door as you opened it, almost running into him but stopping at the last second. “Do I look fine?” you asked, noticing him appraising you over the rim of his white mask. He looked comically like that, suited up yet wearing gloves and mask as if he was going to clean, but even so, you had to give it to his looks that he was handsome. You didn’t doubt your own attractiveness, but the curt, “It’s alright,” he muttered did sting.

»»———————— ♡

Had you known how exhausting these kinds of events were, you would have almost been thankful that he never took you with him before. Giving it all you had sure was taxing when you never did it before, but you wanted oh-so-badly to be accepted by Kiyoomi’s side. You didn’t even notice your own mental exhaustion until you finally had a chance to sit down.

Alone, again.

Maybe you simply weren’t fit for this kind of life. You didn’t know much about volleyball, and there were many weird insider jokes you didn’t understand. Everyone appeared so friendly, some faces still familiar from the wedding, yet you couldn’t help but notice the pity in their eyes. They were all thinking the same thing, you were sure. Just how pitiful you were to be so unluckily married to a man who never seemed interested in what you two had.

“What’s the long face for, hm?” you suddenly heard a cheerful voice, something cold being pressed to your cheek and startling you. You looked up in confusion, only to be blinded by a warm and cheerful grin, the light of the room being reflected through a water bottle and accentuating his features even more.

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, reaching up for the drink he held out to you. “I didn’t see you coming, Atsumu-san. I’m sorry, I was in thoughts...”

“No offense, but you don’t seem to have much fun,” he sighed, plopping down next to you. “It’s such a shame Omi-Omi never shows you off, yer so cute, you know? Makes it much easier to endure parties like these!”

Laughing it off, you found yourself mesmerized by how carefree Atsumu seemed. To you, all of this was a big deal, and you had always assumed it was the same for everyone. But apparently, more people shared your sentiment of the time seemingly dragging out. Without noticing, you chuckled, and Atsumu’s eyes flitted over to you before he straightened his back briefly, crossing his legs. Smirk falling over his lips, you almost caught yourself gasping at how gorgeous he looked in the ambient lighting around you two.

“That’s much better. Ya should laugh more!”

Feeling the warmth spread through your face, you quickly cleared your throat, looking away as to not stare. For a moment there, you thought he really looked like an angel, making you feel at peace around him. “I just- You know- You call him Omi-Omi?” you changed the topic quickly, trying to hide the awestruck expression on your face by hiding behind your hand a bit.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it, he doesn’t really like it, but it’s fun teasing him, ya know? He gets all-” Reaching up, Atsumu pushed his brows together and put on his best impression of Kiyoomi. “‘Don’t call me that, you Idiot. Work on your serve if you have so much time.’ That’s what he says to me! I’m just trying to be friendly...”

Shaking your head slowly, you couldn’t hold back your laugh as you listened to him gush on about your husband treating him ‘unfairly’. Part of you felt sad having to hear it from a third person, never having been able to collect experiences with him yourself. Still, you were also relieved to see he wasn’t just treating you so coldly. “You’re so funny, Atsumu-san,” you chuckled, and he finally stopped talking, relaxing next to you after his tirade.

“There we go,” he mumbled, and you felt his hand fall to your head, giving it some pats. It made your heart grow to receive the affection, slowly but surely making you realize you had been missing fooling around and laughing or even being touched gently for a change. “Don’t let him get to you, ya hear me? Or I’ll come and kick his ass for you!”

“Who’s ass are you kicking?” you both were suddenly interrupted, and knowing the voice, you looked up. Shame hitting you, you stood up, Atsumu’s hand falling from you as you slipped out from under it, facing your husband cautiously. “Kiyoomi, you’re back!” you mumbled, wondering if your mood change was too noticeable. “Yeah, we’re leaving,” he announced, ready to go.

“Don’t just go around touching other people’s spouses, Atsumu,” he warned his colleague sharply, his arm coming around your back. Still, not even the tip of his glove touched you, much less gentle than Atsumu did.

“Mood-killer,” you heard Atsumu complain. “Good night, [Name]!” he called after you, and you graced him with a brief smile thrown over your shoulder, waving after him while you let yourself be led out by your husband.

»»———————— ♡

The ride home was almost as tiring as the evening itself, and the streetlights passing you as you looked out the window weren’t enough to keep you awake. It was a long drive, but the next thing you noticed was a warm body carrying you upstairs from the garage. “Bastard,” you heard a voice, slowly but surely regaining your senses.

“Kiyoomi?” you asked meekly, rubbing your eyes. Blinking a few times, when you looked up, you were met with a disgusted glare staring down at you, instantly making you shrivel into yourself. A flight instinct set in, and only now you noticed he was carrying you through the hallway of your house, not bothering being gentle with the bathroom door once he reached it.

He seemed furious and disgusted, and at least one of these were emotions you had never seen him make before. You almost expected him to drop you into the bathtub as you found yourself hovering over it, but he set you down gently. Nonetheless, the sudden stream of cold water hit you like a slap in the face as he turned on the shower without even a moment of hesitation. It grew warmer quickly, but you found yourself weirded out as your clothes began to stick to you. Kiyoomi, too, barely took off his blazer before kneeling down next to the tub, reaching for the shampoo standing close by.

It was in no way gentle or comfortable as he rubbed it onto your head, the gloves he wore not helping at all. You began to splutter as you had to close your eyes, soap going everywhere on your face. “Where else did he touch?” Kiyoomi asked, almost too calm for the fact it felt like he was trying to press the shampoo into your head rather than wash you. “No- Nowhere!” you complained, ducking out from his touch and wiping away soap from your face. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t believe you,” was all the answer you received to your question. “Tell me. Now. Don’t make this harder for us.”

“What...” you muttered, flinching as you felt his hands fall to your body, grabbing your clothes. “What’s wrong with you!” you finally yelled, swatting his hands away harder than you wished you did. Finally, you got the time to wash off the soap and open your eyes again, feeling ill-treated and confused by his actions. Though despite the warm water, as you finally managed to look at him again, you felt your body freeze.

You thought you knew how he looked at you all this time. Disappointed, disapproving, and disgusted, but this time it was different. He looked at you as if you just ripped his heart out and claimed he was fine like that, and that hurt almost more than any look before. But in the next moment, it was gone, just like a snap of his fingers, and he grabbed your wrist, tightly and unbudging even if you complained. “Try that again, Sweetheart, I dare you.”

Blinking a few times, you couldn’t decide what was scarier; seeing him for the first time up close, face only inches from yours and without the mask, which usually gave some more distance between you two, or having him threaten you. Kiyoomi never talked more than a few words with you at a time, nor did he show any interest in anything you did. “Slap my hand away again, and I will make sure you can’t use it for a long time, you understand? Don’t you know by now who you belong to?”

His questions were so clear, yet in your head, they made no sense. Who did you belong to? Who was it?

“Y-You?” you eventually muttered. “Do I belong to you?”

A question as stupid as it sounded, and yet, it eased Kiyoomi’s rage, it seemed. “That’s right,” he confirmed. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine ever since we met for the first time, don’t ever forget that. I am the only one that is allowed to touch you and no one else. Especially no sleazy bastards like Atsumu.”

“Kiyoomi...”

“Undress,” he interrupted you. “I have to clean you.”

Hesitating, you gripped your own clothes. Never before had you heard him talk like that, especially not about you. You never even believed he could have those thoughts about you, and after being unloved for so long, they felt like bandaids to your wounds. Mind you, not strong bandaids, no. They didn’t even manage to heal you partially, but who were you to complain. Because, what Kiyoomi said...

“Okay,” you whispered, slowly stripping out of your clothes. “I’m sorry... Omi.”

You were stretching your luck, but you were so close to tears as he placed his hand on top of your head. It wasn’t like Atsumu’s. It wasn’t gentle, and it didn’t fill your core with happiness. No, it pressed you down, making you lower your head and feel so insignificant compared to its greatness. But it was Kiyoomi’s. The person you wanted to be loved and caressed by the most.

“It’s okay,” he sighed, and for once, his voice sounded almost gentle and forgiving after you did something. His hand stayed as his free one helped you get out of your clothes, and laying your own hand on top of his, you felt his warmth for the first time, no glove separating you two.

And to this day, you still remember wondering if what Kiyoomi said meant that he loved you too.

Even if that meant you were living in the worst kind of relationship possible.

[You can find the prompt list here]

[myonepiece]

hihihi I love your blog and literally visit it everyday 😚 but if you’re not back up in request and have a little space left,, could you do a little angst to fluff Drabble thing of Zoro, Killer, and Smoker calling their s/o clingy and lash out because they had a bad day but then feel so touch starved because their love isn’t clinging to them like normal after their argument, idk if that makes sense but I hope so 😭

description: Zoro, Killer, and Smoker (separate) call S/O clingy and how they make up - drabble 

warnings: mild cursing, angst (to fluff)

*Killer and Smoker under the cut

♡ Zoro

“can’t you just stand back?! I was clearly fighting that guy!”

you kept your head low as you bandaged your arm, letting Zoro pace the length of the room scolding you.

“I didn’t see him, I came from the side and I only saw you... I just wanted a kiss..”

“that’s the problem! if you weren’t so clingy this wouldn’t have happened!”

you flinched at his harsh words but he seemed not to notice, instead he sighed in frustration.

“just don’t- don’t do that again okay?”

you looked up slowly and nodded, seeing him gradually deflate as he watched you finish up your bandaging- he felt a twinge of guilt at the sight, pushing it down with the excuse that you were being clingy as usuall and got yourself hurt. 

he grunted once your finished, coming forward and simply cupping your cheek quickly as he left the room to go to bed in the boys’ room- leaving you to curl your knees to your chest and whimper while the silence filled the dark room.

the next day Zoro was acting like nothing happpened, napping against the ship’s railing when you went to set down his plate of food. he thanked you with his eyes closed, his arm opening beside him so you could take your usual place while he ate. but he didn’t feel you curl into him and he opened his eyes to find you walking down the stairs. he didn’t think anything of it.

what he did notice was when you didn’t return his goodnight kiss which had become a tradition before bed every day.

he leaned down and pressed his lips to your cheek, leaving a soft kiss and pulling away to wait with his cheek next to your lips for the perfect target. he once again didn’t feel anything and turned to look at you confused.

“oi, what are you doing?”

“I’m just not in the mood tonight Zoro, stop being so clingy”

Zoro frowned and thought for a good few minutes about what you meant, the memory of his words suddenly dawning on him and an “oh” escaped his lips. 

“uhh- I didn’t mean it baby”

you crossed you arms and side-eyed him.

“I didn’t mean to call you clingy”

his voice grew quiet and his face fell, expressing guilt and a hint of hurt.

“oi, you know I didn’t mean it.”

Zoro moved in front of you, squating down so he was leveled with you. it only took one look in his eyes to know he was genuine, and attempting to apologize. you intertwined your hands in your laps and looked down, quietly whispering to Zoro:

“do you want me to hug you?”

“you idiot of course I want you to hug me, I love you- and your kisses.. and your clinginess- n-not that you’re clingy!”

before Zoro could begin rambling and correcting himself, you pressed your hand to his mouth silencing him.

“it’s okay Zoro-kun”

“cm I mmf mhf”

you moved your hand away from the swordsman’s mouth,

“can I have a kiss now?”

he grumbled with a blush gracing his cheeks. you smiled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his face forward and peppering his face with kisses- his arms wrapped around your middle and he lifted you up.

“ah stop stop what are you doing?!”

you slapped his back playfully and he chuckled while he walked to the deck of the ship plopping down and trapping you underneath him- putting all of his weight on you so you couldn’t get up.

“you have a lot of cuddles to make up.”

♡ Killer

it was one of those nights he was allowing himself to get drunk instead of babysit Kid, and all you wanted was to sit on his lap, but nope- he was trying to arm wrestle Kid and you were getting in the way.

he told you to get off a few times but you kept pouting and getting back on, until he eventually snapped.

“____ stop being so fucking clingy.”

you couldn’t see his expression but you knew he was rolling his eyes and scowling. you hurried off his lap and sat down in the corner sulking, rubbing your arms gently in a way to soothe you.

you ended up getting drunk off your butt that night and you collapsed as soon as you got into bed. Killer did the same, but he woke up earlier with a less pounding headache because hes kinda used to the blackout-drunk state. he had expected to find you sleeping next to him but you weren’t there, so he went to find you in the kitchen. 

he went and leaned over your shoulder, gunting a “goodmorning” and smiling softly when you turned. you gave a forced smile before turning with you food and leaving the room. Killer stared after you and was about to follow when Kid called him over for work. 

that night when he was finally done with work and sitting with the rest of the crew, going over the day in his mind; how you hadn’t given him a single kiss or hug, no tackle-hugs, even when the two of you just brushed arms you seemed to flinch away. he honestly didn’t know what it was about- until he said:

“Killer, have you apologized to _____ for calling them clingy? they seemed pretty upset about it last night.”

Killer snapped his head towards his friend, mid “what?” when the memory flooded his mind. he groaned and leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes at Kid’s laughing. he quickly left the room and headed to yours where you lay in bed reading.

the door flew open and Killer stepped in.

“Killer what the fuck-”

he kicked the door shut and fell forward onto the bed, taking his mask off easily and throwing it to the side.

“are you ignoring me because I called you clingy?”

it was more of a statement really, you frowned at his realization and the fact that it took so long. 

“maybe.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was drunk, I’m sorry baby”

his voice was laced with concern and you could tell he was sorry because of his guilty expression.��

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

you let out an annoyed huff and turned your head to the side away from Killer, disappointed at yourself for how easily you were giving in. he placed his finger against your chin and pushed your face back to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“...s’okay”

he smirked and fell onto you, wrpaping his arms around your waist and flipping over so you were sprawled on top of him. he covered your cheeks in kissed, ending with a final one against your lips before cupping the bag of your head and smushing your face into his chest, stifling a laugh at your muffled attempt at complaints.

♡ Smoker

it was because you had been smothering Smoker with affection when you thought the coast was clear, only for one of the admirals to appear around the corner and make a comment about how easily Smoker let himself be distracted.

when you returned to his office he had sat down and you attempted to crawl onto his lap like usual, but he pressed his hand to your chest and gently pushed you away.

“don’t. I’m not in the mood for your clinginess.”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up...”

“then leave me alone.”

and you did- you hurried out the door. he noticed the absence quickly because he was used to having you linger around. because the admiral run in had happened in the morning, Smoker had the whole day to feel uncomplete, noticing how you didn’t show up to have lunch with him, how you didn’t stop by to tell him it was getting late and he should come home.

still, he left at about the time you would have come to scold him for overworking himself, because whne you didn’t show up he got worried. 

he was relieved to find you at home snug in bed sleeping peacefully. he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed with you laying about a foot behind you with his arms open to give you room to curl into him as you usually did when you seemed to sense he was home. 

but when he didn’t feel you move into his side, he opened his eyes and stared at your back, slowly moving to peer over your shoulder- finding tear streaks on your cheeks and the pillow slightly damp. 

the marine shook you awake, worried you were hurt- but when you opened your eyes and found yourself against Smoker’s chest, you scooted away and apologized. his brows furrowed in confusion and he asked why you apologized, you said because you wanted to give him his space. 

“what are you talking about?”

you sighed in annoyance, you should have known he wouldn’t have a clue what he did wrong. 

“you said I’m clingy, I’m just trying to lessen my affection... so you won’t be mad.”

Smoker couldn’t exactly comprehend what was happening, but he could tell he was the one who made you cry and it was because he had called you clingy, insulted you for showing him love.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was angry”

he placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face him, sliding down in bed beside you and slipping his arm under your head, keeping his hand latched around your waist when you tried to move.

“I’m sorry _____.”

Smoker pressed a kiss against your temple and pulled away to look into your eyes, watching with a saddened expression. you grudgingly sighed and turned over in his embrace, placing your head on his bare chest while he moved his arms to accommodate your new position.

Smoker kissed your temple and you looked up at him pouting.

“Akainu is just made he doesn’t have someone like me.”

Smoker chuckled and tightened his hold on you, bringing up to to his face so he could plant a kiss on your nose.

“he doesn’t realize how amazing it is to be distracted by you”

[guqin-and-flute]

nieyao or 3zun + prompt 64 with cat!baxia

64. “I think your cat wants to kill me.” [This got way away from me WHOOPS]

“So. This date is going fantastically. Do I make top 10?”

Meng Yao huffed a short, polite laugh through his nose at Mingjue’s rueful question. “Being nursed back to health by a handsome man is certainly adding back points lost in the cat attack,” he replied, and some of the frustrated dread bled from the ball in Mingjue’s chest. “I really could do this myself, you know,” he added.  

Mingjue sighed. “Yeah, well, since it was my cat attack, I feel like I need to make reparations. I’ve also taken First Aid more times than I can count and cat scratches can get really nasty.” 

If this were a one of the sappy romcoms Huaisang loved so much, standing at the sink together as he tended to the 2 gashes scoring down Meng Yao’s forearm with several antiseptic soaked cotton balls had the potential to be romantic. Except Mingjue had never liked those movies and he just felt like a fucking asshole who owned an unruly animal.

He had met Meng Yao at the grocery store. Mingjue had looked up from his phone at the sound of a sharp voice--a middle aged business man was snapping at a young man in front of him in line; "Fucking Christ, you're going to hold up everyone."

"You can go ahead of me if you'd like--"

"There's a whole line of people here! We all have places to go!"

The man being yelled at--(the very attractive man with round, dark eyes, he noted)--had grimaced placatingly, as the cashier was saying, "We can hold his groceries while he goes out, sir, you won't have to wait."

A the business man threw his hands into the air in disgust, Mingjue had slid his phone into his back pocket and interrupted in his 'is this guy bothering you' voice; "What's the problem?"

3 pairs of eyes had darted to him immediately and gone wide. The very good looking man had tensed completely, eyes darting to the door in a way that looked involuntary--and well, Mingjue had been struck by the completely overwhelming urge to tuck him back behind him and make this asshole between them shit his pants in fear. And anyone else that made him look that scared, for that matter. "I'm sorry," the scared, attractive, adorable, fragile-looking, harassed young man had said a tight smile, "I forgot my wallet in my car, we can just--"

"Here," Mingjue slid out his credit card handed it--pointedly--over Mr. Business-Asshole's head to the cashier. "I'll cover it. You know what," he had added, fixing the quickly wilting dickhead with his best 'I-can-bench-press-you-and-then-feed-you-your-own-esophagus-no-problem' stare, "Why don't you get the nice lady behind me, too. Once this guy is done running for the biggest jackass award. I'll wait."

And, you know, weirdly enough, Mr. Asshole had actually left the line, red faced and without his shitty little protein shakes. As the cashier bit back a grin and rung up the card, the harassed young man--who was even prettier up close, holy hell, it made his lower back sweat--had tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, that really, he had the money, he could just go get it, he appreciated it but didn't need Mingjue to put himself out. Mingjue had just shrugged and held out his hand. "It's the principle of the thing. Nie Mingjue."

The man had opened his mouth, looked down at his hand; then, he had smiled and holy goddamn fucking shitballs he had dimples. Shaking it firmly in a hand that was soft and cool and slim, he had said, "Then...thank you. Meng Yao. I'll have to pay you back. Do you have a cash app?"

"Don't bother."

"I insist."

"You can buy me dinner sometime, then," Mingjue's mouth had decided to say without permission, but luckily he agreed with the idea and so had been quite pleased to see Meng Yao's ears go pink.

"...That sounds fair," he replied, finally, those lovely dimples returning.

The cashier had cleared their throat, brightly. "Do you by chance have our loyalty card?"

They agreed on a first date in a public restaurant where they could verify that the other wasn’t some sort of serial killer. It had even been a nice one that Meng Yao had insisted on where they had also shared a bottle of wine and interesting conversation. Meng Yao was exceedingly smart and easy to talk to--the perfect conversational partner with a knack for solving many of the problems that Mingjue hadn't even realized he complained about. In return, he had made his attraction quite clear and Meng Yao had ducked his head.

"I'll have you know that I don't go home with anyone on the first date," he had said carefully, eyes on his fingertip as he ran it around the rim of his wineglass. "It's a personal rule of mine. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"That's fine with me," Mingjue shrugged. "If you're up for it, I'll wait for as many dates outlasts your rule, 'cause I grill a mean steak."

Those dimples came back and he had sat back in his chair, voice light as he asked, "Oh? Won't you get bored?"

Mingjue had snorted and finished off his glass. "Just because I'd like to sleep with you doesn't mean I don't also want to get to know you, you know."

Mingjue was just getting to know the guy, so he couldn't be sure, but that answer seemed to please him.

The night of the cat disaster was the 4th on their run of dates--Mingjue had shooed Huaisang over to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s house for the night and invited Meng Yao over via text for dinner and a movie and also the option of sex, if he wanted. 

Apparently, the bluntness had made Meng Yao laugh. Mingjue had texted back that he preferred honesty in all things and could handle a ‘no, thanks’ with plenty maturity. Meng Yao had replied, ‘I’m sure you can,’ which, he had very keenly noticed, was not a ‘no, thanks.’

Dinner had gone great--homemade meals always seemed to impress--and they had been preparing to split a chocolate lava cake in front of a shitty action movie they had both agreed on with the understanding that neither of them minded missing anything if they decided fooling around was more interesting.

But now, there was blood everywhere--on the dishes in the sink, on the towel they had hastily staunched it with, on the countertop and the mood was ruined because his giant, grumpy ass cat had decided to savage his date as they were cleaning up the table. Baxia had sniffed his leg suspiciously when he first came in, flinching away as he knelt down to offer his fingers. Then, she had fixed him with a glare, hissed, and turned around and stalked away, fluffy gray tail held high--which, for her, was practically a warm welcome. She had her boys--Huaisang and Mingjue--and hated pretty much everyone else (except for Wei Wuxian's older sister Jiang Yanli when she had dropped him off to hang out with Huaisang when his license got suspended. Which had happened a few times, now).

Everything had been fine with her while they ate--she had even spent it under the table, rubbing up against Mingjue's legs, staring up at Meng Yao without making so much as a peep. It was when they had risen that disaster struck. She had hopped up onto Meng Yao's chair and decided to take personal offense to his existence with absolutely no warning at all when he passed by with his hands full of silverware.

Now, Meng Yao’s long fingers curled into a fist as the cotton passed over a particularly deep part of the slice, though his face remained calm, so Mingjue winced for him. "Sorry. I swear, she's never done this before, I don't know what the hell her problem is."

Meng Yao shook his head, smile pressed and polite as he said, "Really, it's fine." He shifted on his feet to lean his hip against the cupboards and, immediately, Mingjue seized his elbows. 

“Are you dizzy?”

The other man had stiffened at the sudden movement, staring up at him. Then, he blinked and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm alright.”

Mingjue eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure?”

He laughed. “I’m not going into shock, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had much worse, trust me. I’m not going to pass out.”

Mingjue remained unconvinced. Instead of arguing further, he simply lifted him by the waist to sit on the island across from the sink for lack of a chair. Meng Yao let out the beginning of a squeak, hands automatically flashing up to bunch in the front of his shirt for balance. He blinked down at Mingjue, then the ground, then back at him, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Mingjue couldn't tell if it was annoyance, horniness, or a combination of both--and that was all well and good except that he was still bleeding and he knew from experience what a bitch blood was to get out of clothing. So he just pulled Meng Yao's arm out again and went back to work, asking, "So what was the 'much worse'?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you knew you're not going to pass out because you've had 'much worse'. What's the story there?"

"Ah. No story. I broke my arm. Compound fracture. I stayed awake the whole time, so a cat scratch is fairly minor, in comparison."

Mingjue hissed in through his teeth reflexively in sympathy and scanned him. Either he healed fantastically or the scar was higher up on his arms, under the soft cream sweater sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows--luckily, they had been rolled up before the attack and had escaped blood thus far. "Fuck. How'd that happen?"

"Fell down some stairs."

Mingjue raised an eyebrow at the stark explanation. "Well, maybe you shouldn't fall down stairs. Ever thought of that?"

Meng Yao smiled thinly down at him, dark eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. "Mm. I'll have to keep that in mind." The dimples he searched for avidly were there, faintly, and Mingjue found himself wanting to nibble on them.

They hadn't done much else besides a kiss goodnight in the shadows near the entrance to the parking garages of their dates, because Mingjue was being good and keeping his hands above the belt. And he should probably figure out whether or not this date was going to have the eject button pressed, first. There was blood everywhere, still.

"Why all the First Aid classes?" Meng Yao asked suddenly, keeping his arm extended out even as Mingjue released him to rummage for the antibacterial spray. "Was it because your demon cat kept attacking people?"

Mingjue barked out a laugh and sprayed down his arm--Meng Yao didn't flinch. "At first, it was for lifeguarding, every summer since I was 16 until I graduated college. Now, I take refresher courses because I run a martial arts studio and shit can get real real fast, especially with newbies who try to fuck around." Tearing open the packet of sterilized gauze with his teeth so he could still hold his arm, he situated it and held it with a gentle thumb. "Tape or gauze wrap?"

Meng Yao shrugged. "I have no preference. Surprise me."

Gauze wrap it was. It would hurt less than pulling tape off his arm later. Meng Yao watched him finish up quietly, ankles linked, posture straight and proper even sitting on a kitchen counter. On impulse, Mingjue lifted his now bandaged arm and kissed the skin of his wrist, just below where the gauze stopped and got a slight shiver for his trouble. He looked up at him, then, an angle he was not used to but was definitely enjoying. "This has been a piss poor date. I really am sorry."

"The dinner was lovely before it ended in bloodshed, I promise," Meng Yao assured him, smiling. Then, it grew a little sly and he leaned in, slowly, stretching his arms out over Mingjue's shoulders to link behind his neck. "Although, you could always kiss it better."

Well, there was no possible way to misinterpret that particular invitation and he heartily took it, snugging Meng Yao up against him with hands on his hips and devouring him just as indulgently as he would the forgotten lava cake cooling on the stove top. He hummed in appreciation as Meng Yao's arms wrapped tighter, his thighs squeezing around his hips as he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He tasted like the dry wine they had finished the meal with.

All at once, though, Meng Yao froze, hands stilling in his hair. Before Mingjue had time to be confused, he whispered against his mouth, "I think your cat wants to kill me," eyes fixed on something over Mingjue's shoulder.

Mingjue craned his neck around to find Baxia perched on the counter next to the sink, tail swishing, gaze locked with Meng Yao, ears flicked out to the sides. She let out a low, quiet growl.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Mingjue growled back. "That's it. You're going in Huaisang's room for the night."

[muffindaddystyles]

LOVE ME, WRESTLE ME.

Boyfriendrry blurb of some smutty and fluffy thought.

Taking online classes, resting, doing assignments, then spending some time with Harry and watching a movie at night that always ends up in a good fuck isn't boring but it's insipid.

The cooe of rain outside's soothing and tranquil enough to fill in already comfortable silence between you people, your lips murmuring around the instinctive words from the scrabby page of the Oscar Wilde's; The selfish giant. Your knees are hiked up sitting in the love seat opposite to where Harry's sitting on the messy-ly made bed since you both were feeling a tad lazy and in mood to procrastinate house chores.

You're constantly loosing your focus, because you're terribly horny at the moment and Harry in a baggy yellow pawy sweater spread on his tummy over the bed doing nothing but staring at you like he'd swallow you whole isn't helping at all with the ache between your thighs.

So, you do what was needed to be done.

His eyes follows your commotion as you leave your spot kneeing up on the edge of bed, your crotch against his face and you look down at him with a witty smirk.

"Wrestle me." Your voice challenging. You arch your brow with profound irritation when he intentionally dismisses you off by rumbling his lips to blow away the curls falling over his dooey eyes.

"Pardon?" He creates a noise, within a click of his tongue or his hand against your bare thigh (fondling the soft skin he's obsessed with) that dries your throat with hunger. He heard it right. There was no wavering in what you invited him for.

You guys have this game where he has to make you cum within two minutes and you've to wrestle him off, if you loose and cum you've to keep him warm and sloppy in your mouth until it turns into a nice blowie so it's a win win either way.

You fail every time. Most of it is very obvious.

But, right now he's trying to rile your nerves up by acting like an utterly supine cow.

"Hmm?" The questioning hum turns into a giggly squeal when he grabs your ankle and throws you onto the mattress like a rag doll, "S' fuckin' insatiable all the time ..." He growls towering above you, pushing your thighs apart with a tight grip to your soft fleshy insides that makes you hiss. A laugh pits up in your belly from the thrill of shutting them back and fighting him off to piss him further.

Ofcourse him being stronger than you fails you to do so and a loud moan bubbles around you when he licks his palm till the tips of his fingers and smacks your already soaking centre harshly.

"Fuck." You mewl softly sinking into sheets when he yanks your shorts down leaving you in nothing but his large hoodie, your pussy lips flutter from the heated sensation of your stickiness coming in contact with the sting of his chilly rings.

He pins your wrist atop your head and fits himself between your wide opened legs grinding his hard (trouser clad) prick against your heating centre in vigorous rubs, leaving a burn with every stroke and making you loose your stance with the growing desire to have his fingers inside you.

"C'mon fight me now." He grits. Glowering down at you sternly and your tummy coils against his's pelvis with each nasty roll of his hips, you gasp around a sob when he nips at the soft skin of your jaw. He wants you to surrender yourself to him but your ego's more than that so with a trick of pulling at his hair you flip him on his back and crawl up to straddle his torso jerking his shoulder down.

"Aha!" You grin in a victory. His brows pinches down furiously and before you know his calloused hand came spanking your butt-cheek making your face smash into the crook of his neck with an unexpected vulgar series of moans, "Bratty little fuck doll." He grunts landing another spank right where the first one left crimson imprints, again and again till you're a squirming crying mess.

He slides his two fingers down your puckering rim to where you're dripping with wetness and teases your entrance by never dipping them in till the end but rather stroking the spongy wall of your soppy cunt.

You squeal when he flips you on your tummy and leans all his weight over your back to glide his hand between the compact space of their bottoms, he patches breathy kisses to the side of your neck leaving love marks, sliding in his fingers deep inside that when you feel a certain crack resonating to your ears and shooting pain till your toes making them jelly.

You're fucked.

It all happened from your arm placed at the weird angle while he had your hips in air.

"Harry, I think. I might've broken my wrist." You stammer in a calm voice though, barely able to speak when the pang in your joint's inflaming like a wildfire along with the pleasure that's subsiding into an akward spasmy feeling as you pulsates around his fingers.

"Sucha bullshit excuse to mice outta yer defeat." He rasps to you smugly. Your face scrunches up in pain and your head falls into the throw pillow.

"No . ." You shake your head quickly gulping down the thick tears down your throat and when his head clears out from the fog of lust, noticing the weakness in your words he immediately pulls his digits out, "Holy ... Fuck." You try to stay placid knowing his insides are ticking in panic and is about to explode in one, two and —

"Baby -– how — how are y'so calm? Is it hurting? Show me." The shift in his demeanor is adorable as minutes ago he was about to rail you to unconsciousness and now he's the softest cutest caring boyfriend.

Tears prickles at your waterline when he presses his thumb into your wrist bone ever so diligently and it jolts severe pain up your arm.

"I think it's, 'm so so sorry baby. We should go to hospital. Stay here, yeah?" He tells you cupping your cheeks worriedly and rushes to fetch a wet rag when you nod through a sniff and wobbly lips.

He cleans you off, shushing you with tender kisses to your ankles when the throb got overwhelming. Helps you wearing your jeans and shoes being careful not to hurt your wrist any further in doing so.

"It's okay, you're okay lovie —- if the pain's too much —--- dunno we should probably run to hospital." He's out of breath snatching the keys and his coat taking glances of you after every second to make sure you're okay, more like assuring himself, "Bub it wasn't your fault. It was an accident, I can endure a lil bit pain." Through the whole call ride he was jittery and twitchy waiting for to reach the clinic speedily.

He has you embraced by his side with a careful support of his palm under your wrist so it wouldn't dangle that much as he walks you inside.

The doctor sitting infront of you two stares at the way you both are flushed, rosy cheeks, ruffled hair and sheened skin radiating 'we were in the middle of having great sex.' But, she chooses not to speak as you shrink to Harry's side timidly from the embarrassment and shyness.

Harry just passes you a nervous smile squeezing your shoulder to cheer you up and nudges you when the doctor asks the ever awaiting question.

"So . . . How did it happen?"

"Cupboard —-" You speak.

"She fell of —-" And he speaks at the same time.

You look at eachother with wide shocked eyes but then he clear his throat allowing you to speak, "I was putting some dishes up in the cupboard when I lost my footing and knocked my wrist against it." The doctor surely didn't give into your guys shit. Nodding along to your made up story.

You guys feel exposed when the doctor spoke inspecting Y/N wrist, "The injury caused from the pressure of weight, splinting the bone away and tearing the muscle too ... nothing that wouldn't heal in two weeks. You'll be good with an arm cast and these pain killers."

When you step out into the waiting corridor it feels like your secret has been revealed to every single person sitting there and you pull the strings of your hoodie to cover your face and Harry chuckles kissing your head at your silliness.

Once in the privacy of car he speaks looking at your cast properly, "One thing fo' sure that game isn't made fo' us -- you're too delicate to play it just fo' fun and thrill. Next, time just ask me to fuck you baby and I'll surely do it happily." He sighs a puff of breath kissing your cast and patting it lightly jerking back in horror when you yelp.

"Ouch!" He takes your jaw to kiss your lips upon seeing you grinning at your own misheviousness.

"Ye' batty little creature, stop messin' with your poor boyfriend!" He grumps cheekily at your playfullness.

"'M sorry, daddy will you take care of me?" You blink sickly coy through your lashes. Pouting up at him innocently and he shakes his head bopping your nose.

"You just wait and watch." He kisses the side of your head while reversing the car.

"How about we start from drawing dicks on ye' cast, hmm? How bout that?" He smirks and you gasp surprised at his antics.

"Harry!" The car fills up with laughter and giggles until he takes a rough turn.

"You better drive safe else 'm walking home!"

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 |  Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards.  And the press are having a field day.  Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt.  An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning.  Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem.  All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.”

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

-

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

-

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

-

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

-

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

[oliviayamaoka]

Heartfelt Deception Continuation (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

Joey x Reader Angst!!!!!!

Hi! I’ve been busy working and getting ready for university but I’ve been DYING to finish requests! I wanna put my heart and soul into the requests so sorry if it takes long! Working on finishing the Doctor stuff after this!

Anyways, general plot is you see Joey again but your reunion is short lived!

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the Entity’s realm at this point. It felt like years but must’ve been a few months. It feared you apart on the inside thinking about all those you left behind. What terrified you most was the thought of you actually being dead. Were you just a husk being punished in this purgatory? This hell? What the hell did you even do to deserve this? You sighed deeply and looked upwards.

You awaited the trial. It had been almost two weeks since you were chosen to participate in a trial. You cherished every moment not being in those twisted games. A shudder ran through your spine remembering your last trial. You awoke in a bathroom with Kate Denson. There were devices on your heads and the voice of a man spoke, telling you that he wanted to play a game. While you and Kate played that awful game, the other two were doing generators. You got the trap off of your head but Kate wasn’t so lucky. It was terrifying but you couldn’t forget the image of the woman in red. The woman who wore a pig’s head as she chased you.

“Y/N?” A guy said to you as you jumped. You recognized the guy as Quentin Smith. He was around your age and you two talked before.

“Oh, hey.” You said with a smile, a nervous one.

“Are you, like… alright?” He asked you as you nodded.

“Just nervous.” You said to him.

Quentin was friendly but he looked extremely tired. He came the same time as the dream demon? You hadn’t personally fought this demon but you hated what you heard about him. But, you did remember where they came from. Elm Street, was it? Despite the atrocities that occurred here, you loved hearing about where all these mysterious people came from. He nodded in response and looked around.

“Yeah, me too. I, uh, heard that we might be fighting that ogre…” He said. You saw the fear in his eyes when he began to remember his own trauma fighting these creatures and murderers.

“Which one?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood as he chuckled quietly.

“The samurai one.” He said as you nodded. Y/N only fought him once. A hulking samurai who beat her down in an instant. You cringed, remembering the blunt force trauma on your back. Quentin noticed how uncomfortable you looked and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, yeah… it’s just gonna be me, you, Bill, and… Ace? I dunno, they’re old so I don’t really know how to talk to them.” He shrugged.

“Well, I have faith we’ll be fine. Bill might look old but you should see him in action.” You said with a grin. Bill once refused to leave you behind, carrying you on his back and throwing you out the exit gate once. Since then, you admired him and always had his back.

“Yeah, he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” Quentin asked as he yawned. You were about to say something but the familiar, cold fog surrounded you guys.

“Come find me.” He quickly said to you as the fog completely engulfed you.

You shut your eyes tightly, opening them again when you were sure you were in one of the realms. Your hair blew slightly when you looked around. This place seemed foreign to you. It was a hospital of some sort? Not Crotus Prenn. Y/N looked around, crossing her arms tightly. The hallway looked old, dirty, and bloody. In one of the many rooms were chairs and bathrooms?

Y/N shivered and peaked down the hallways. You didn’t see any of your teammates. As you walked into the waiting room, you saw a paper on the ground. You kneeled down and picked it up.

“Leary’s Memorial Institute exposé.” You mumbled, instantly lighting up when you realized this must’ve been the realm that belonged to the infamous Doctor. You didn’t fight him yet but you heard how he fought survivors. Electric blasts? The place seemed massive and long. You then remembered what you heard your friend say. ‘Come find me.’

“Quentin?” You called out, not too loudly in fear that the killer was around. When you got no response, you just began to quietly speed walk to the generator you spotted down the hallway.

You kneeled down, wasting no time in getting to work on it. The repairs came naturally to you. And when you were so focused on survival, you were determined on fixing this generator. The generator sparked and as you continued to fix it, it became more and more loud. At this point, you didn’t care if the killer heard you. You just wanted this generator to be completed.

Or at least you thought so, anyways. Your concentration broke when you heard a scream nearby, it must’ve been Ace? Your finger slipped and the generator blew up. Y/N covered her face as she rapidly stood up. You felt dazed for a moment and heard something sprinting towards you, you quickly turned around. You gasped loudly, holding your arms up in defence as you felt something slash through your forearm.

You let out a scream as the figure immediately stopped. Y/N stumbled a bit, panicking at the slash on your arm. The killer had been one of the Legion members. You immediately forgot about the rapid bleeding from the wound when you looked at the killer. It was Joey. He seemed frozen in place, immediately regretting his actions. He held his knife as he stared at you, breathing heavily from the fatigue he got from his frenzy. Joey wasn’t thinking straight earlier, he always had a temporary migraine whenever he finished his frenzy.

As he was about to reach out, a chair was thrown at him. It was Ace. He had a slash on his back from Joey’s knife. With confidence, he spread his arms out. Ace seemed somewhat pissed off too. Joey grunted and snapped his eyes to his direction.

“Come pick on someone your own size, pal.” He said as Joey switched the way he held his knife.

“Run, kid!” Ace yelled at you.

You looked at Joey before nodding and quickly breaking into a sprint. Joey watched you, feeling frustrated at his situation. He quickly began to chase Ace, wanting to hook him and find you as fast as possible. Y/N continued running and vaulting into random rooms. You held your forearm, losing more and more blood. Y/N eventually stopped running, feeling exhausted and lightheaded.

You kneeled down, biting your lip hard as you pressed your forearm into your shirt. It stung and the sight of your own blood was making you panic. In fact, you didn’t even realize how much sound you were making, breathing heavily and crying. When you heard footsteps beside you, you basically shrieked but quickly realized it was just Bill.

“Ah, shit.” He said, throwing his cigarette to the side. He kneeled down beside you and looked at your wound.

“Quentin, get your ass over here!” He yelled. You covered your mouth with your other hand as Quentin entered the room, carrying a medkit he must’ve found. How did he always manage to find a medkit? You didn’t care right now.

“Are you okay? I mean, obviously not but…” Quentin said, quickly opening the medkit for Bill.

“It stings.” You said.

“Who was it?” Bill asked, taking your wrist as he began to quickly clean your wound and mend you. You shook your head.

“I-I don’t know… he’s after Ace right now.” You said. The three of you heard the familiar scream of Ace in the distance. He must’ve been hooked.

“Not anymore.” Bill huffed as he wrapped a bandage around your arm.

“There was no alcohol or stuff in it, sorry.” Quentin said as you nodded.

“He’s one of the faster ones, though.” You said as Bill helped you up. He has his usual mean mug.

“We best split up and work on seperate gene. If you see the bastard, you better man the hell up and run for the sake of the rest of us. I’ll get Ace. You kids work on fixing these godddamn machines.” Bill said in his usual gruff tone.

“Yeah…” Quentin said nervously.

“Okay… got it.” You said as the three of you quickly ran in seperate directions. There was no need for small talk with no generators completed yet.

You ignored the pain of the wound. Not because of your objective but because he was here? What the hell were the odds of seeing him again? Why didn’t he just kill you in Ormond? Maybe, it was a deception trick? You didn’t know and it was starting you drive you crazy. He even shows you his face. His face! You never forgot what he looked like. You also never forgot how he felt, sitting so close to you and comforting you? You felt your face heat up at the thought but got angry thinking about how it just could’ve been a lie.

You walked back to your generator, quickly going back to work on it. As you kneeled down, you yelped as you were pried off of the generator. Y/N panicked as the gloved hand covered her mouth.

“Please don’t scream!” You heard the familiar voice of Joey say to you. You struggled but quickly stopped, curiosity getting the better of you.

You quickly ripped away from him when he let you go. You turned around, eyes wide and your posture tense. Joey tilted his head, taking in your features as his shoulders loosened. It felt so intoxicating for him to finally see you again. He pulled his hood back and took off his mask. You still felt on edge when he did so. Joey knew he didn’t deserve to act so friendly but still, he smiled seeing you again.

“Look… I know things look bad right now.” He began as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Bad…?!” You whisper shouted.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean to…! The Entity makes me and my friends go into this weird ass bloodlust state where we want you just stab everything in sight, I stopped as soon as I recognized you!” He explained, rambling a bit.

“Stopped, huh?” You questioned, mad about your wound. It was pretty deep. He sighed deeply, holding his head in frustration.

“Look, I could’ve done so much worse than that, okay…? I just, I’m sorry, okay?” He said.

“You don’t sound that sorry.” Y/N replied, you crossed your arms.

“Man, just bare with me, aight? I’m not used to saying stuff like that.” He said, clearly flustered.

You let your guard down and stared at him. Of course, you still felt extremely scared knowing he was one of the killers but he felt so… relatable? Funny, almost. Why was Joey even a killer? What did he even do?

“It’s okay.” You said after a few silent moments. He looked at you.

“Really…?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah… it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” You mumbled awkardly as he stood up straight again, putting his knife away.

“I doubt that but still… it’s nice seeing you again.” He said with a geeky smile. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held your worst to your chest, looking around.

“I-um… why aren’t you trying to kill me…?” You asked in a quiet, awkward voice. It felt so strange speaking to other people your age. Quentin was fine but this was Joey.

Joey stared at you for a second. Not even he knew the answer to that question yet. Well, he didn’t but he didn’t want you outright tell you that he had a crush on you. He scratched the back of his neck and nervously looked around. He wanted to shoot his shot since he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again for a long time but he didn’t want to rush things and make you uncomfortable. Not that he cared, if this thing between you two was possible then he’d be as patient and respectful as he could.

“I think you’re cool.” He replied as you stared at him. You blinked a few times in both shock.

“You think I’m cool…?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah… you don’t like that?” He asked.

“No, I do, but… you’re a killer.” You said, your eyes wide with fear subconsciously as you looked at him.

Joey felt a sting in his chest with the way you were looking at him. But, you were right. He was indeed a killer. Fucking Frank, he thought to himself. If it weren’t for him and Julie pretending to be so badass, he wouldn’t be here. Although, he probably wouldn’t have met you. He deserved to be here for helping them kill that janitor. Joey knew it deep down but he wanted to preserve the image of himself he wished he had. A geeky Canadian teenager. Something he once was before he hung out with the wrong crowd.

“I know I’m a goddamn murderer, okay?! I wish I wasn’t but I had no choice!” He snapped. You seemed taken aback by his sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, I…” Y/N stammered as he shook his head, sighing deeply.

“No, it’s fine… my bad. I’m just used to getting mad easily ‘cause of my friends. I dunno, you just miss social cues when you hang out with the same three fuckers.” He said.

You fumbled with your hands nervously and looked towards the waiting room. You thought for a second before clearing your throat.

“Um… wanna sit…?” You asked nervously as you pointed towards the waiting room. Joey stared blankly before looking at you, surprised by the suggestion.

“Uh, yeah, definitely.” He nodded eagerly as he followed after you.

You walked into the room and sat down on one of the chair, putting one leg over the other. Joey seemed much more confident when sitting, getting comfortable with his arms crossed and legs spread. You didn’t know why but you smiled at how comfortable he quickly got. Joey was a mystery, an interesting one to say the least. Y/N looked around at the walls.

“So… how are you…?” You say.

“Chilling, I guess… you?” He asked.

“Surviving.” You joke as he chuckled lightly.

“Sorry, I gotta ask… what do you survivors even do after the trials? When I first got here, I thought you would all be dead permanently.” He said to you.

“Oh, uh, there’s like a campsite? We get our own tents and supplies. We kinda just explore the woods and dreadfully wait for the Entity to choose the unlucky four.” You explained.

“Unlucky four, huh? Why are you here?” He asked you. Y/N shrugged lightly.

“Honestly, I don’t know… I was happy and free until the fog came. I’m starting to lose track of the days.” You said.

“Me too.” Joey said with a deep sigh.

“Why are you here…?” You asked nervously.

“Me? Uh… fuck. Look, I’ve been doing some self-reflection and getting in touch with like, emotions and shit. I know what I did was wrong but it was Frank’s fault. And Julie influenced his dumbass… if only they didn’t think they were fucking Harley and Joker.” He muttered.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“I—or we, killed a janitor… it was some older dude. Me and Susie didn’t want to but I dunno, I never thought peer pressure was real but… I guess I was just scared shitless when I saw Frank with that knife…” He said. You could hear the guilt in his voice as he leaned forward.

“And it could’ve been something we could’ve easily redeemed ourselves for but… that’s when the Fog came. I dunno… ever since I met you, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” Joey said.

“Me?” You ask as he looked at you.

“Yeah… not in a weird way but, you’re cool and normal… something I don’t find often nowadays.” He shrugged as you nodded, your heart thumping from how flustered you’d become.

“So, who’s this Frank?”

“Frank? Well, he’s my bro. My best friend, as you people would say. I dunno, he was kind of a loser now that I think of it but ride or die, amirite? Anyways, I always knew he was kind of crazy. And Julie too. I never liked her too much, she was always kinda bossy. Especially towards Susie.” Joey explained.

“Anyways, we formed the Legion. It was us four against the world for a bit. Quite literally now that I think about it. I think the Entity changed Frank… he’s more… violent now? Literally doesn’t even listen to reason anymore.” He said.

“Sounds like an asshole, sorry.” You said as he smiled.

“He is, don’t worry.” Joey said.

“So, that’s why you’re here? You got scared and were forced to do something? That’s such bullshit.” You said, looking at him.

“Yeah, I guess so…. I’m really nothing to be scared of.” Joey said before falling silent, holding his head for a second when he heard whispers in his head.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

Joey felt the Entity’s anger with him. At times, it was scary. He remembered what happened to Susie when she didn’t comply with what it wanted her to do. It just twisted her even more and made Frank into a complete monster. He shut his eyes tightly. Joey wasn’t making an effort to sacrifice anybody and the Entity was growing tired and bored with this trial.

“I’m fine, just fatigue is all…” He lied.

“But, um… yeah, thank you for opening up to me about that stuff… and for your gloves.” You said, smiling warmly. He looked towards you.

“You remember that?” He asked.

“How could I not? You’re still my friend. A good one, at that.” You say, grabbing his hands softly and standing him up. Joey wished he didn’t have his other set of gloves on so he could feel your skin.

“I was gonna suggest you drink some water slowly but… there’s none.” You said to him.

“Real smart.” He sarcastically laughed with a grin. You smiled too.

“Please, I literally forgot we were in hell.” You said.

“Oh, this is hell?” He asked, becoming a bit more bold when it came to flirting with you.

“Maybe.” You replied with a smile.

You frowned when he held his head again. Joey grunted at the sudden sharp pain in his head, a migraine worse than when the frenzy ended. You put your hand on his shoulder, watching him with concern as he grit his teeth. Why they hell was this happening now? Why the fuck did the Entity suddenly care so much? Joey knew what it wanted. It wanted it to hurt her.

“Y/N…” He muttered.

“Uh, what’s up…?” You asked in concern.

“I don’t think it wants us to waste anymore time.” Joey said, wincing from the pain and becoming more overwhelmed when the whispers grew louder. Y/N couldn’t hear anything.

“What? The Entity?” You asked.

“Listen, you should just… run, okay? Go do a generator or something.” He said before he cried out in pain after finishing his sentence.

“Joey?!” You asked with panic in your voice.

“Fuck…! Quit it, you motherfucker!” Joey yelled at the Entity, holding his head. You rubbed his back, totally unsure of what to do.

“I-It’s okay…! Don’t listen to it!” You said to him.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Joey said to you when you suddenly felt a sharp pain plunge into your stomach. Your eyes widened as Joey stood tall, aggressively twisting the knife before pulling it away.

You coughed out blood onto his chest, clinging to his shoulders when you felt yourself lose blood rapidly. Joey pushed you back, slashing again at your chest. In that moment, he felt rage, anger, sadness, regret, shame, and guilt. But, the bloodlust he felt was even stronger than what the frenzy made him feel. He couldn’t control it. The Entity did. You wailed as you curled up, not expecting anything that just happened. Joey cleaned his knife off, putting his mask back on and lifting his hood.

Joey didn’t speak. He couldn’t even look at you when he picked you up. It made him feel even worse at how weakly you were wiggling. You punched at his back as hard as you could but you were ready to faint at any given moment due to the extreme blood loss. Joey shut his eyes tightly once he got to the hook, hoisting you off of his shoulder onto it. Your eyes shot wide open at the hooked sensation. The hook shot adrenaline through your body as you tried lifting yourself up, letting out a scream as you hung there.

He couldn’t even bare to look at you. Even in his crazed state of mind, he seemed ready to just kill himself. Why did the Entity do what it did? He just turned and walked away as fast as he could. Due to the amount of time you wasted with Joey, the Entity just decided to kill you then and there. It didn’t want to wait for any of your fellow survivors to come and get you. It was bored and hungry. Joey began his frenzy once he heard the Entity finish you off, deciding to take his anger out on the remaining survivors.

You slowly opened your eyes to see Yui watching you intently. She seemed surprised you were awake and brushed your forehead. Beside her was Claudette who made sure you were okay.

“You’re awake.” She said.

“Yui…?” You asked, disorientated.

“You did not last long, at all.” She jokingly said as you sat up. Claudette seemed too shy to tell you not to sit up. You winced.

Usually, it would take a few days for all wounds to completely heal.

“You guys must have had a rough trial.” Laurie said as she kneeled down beside you. You looked towards the other three.

Quentin, Bill, and Ace seemed to be in a worse condition than you. Multiple bandages and bloodied wounds. Your mind immediately went to Joey. What had happened? You winced at the pain in your stomach.

“It’s a really deep wound. Just sit back and relax.” Laurie said to you as you nodded.

You thought about Joey. You remembered your last interaction with him, how he seemed unwilling to kill you. What did the Entity do to him? Would he be like that forever? You teared up at the thought of it. Joey didn’t deserve to be here, he was just like you and Quentin. He was normal. You shut your eyes and hopes that maybe you’d see him again. There was a sense of heartache within you when you thought of him now.

“Heard you had an amazing fucken trial.” Frank said to Joey, congratulating him but Joey wasn’t having any of it.

“Fuck off, Frank.” He growled at him as Frank held his hands up jokingly.

“Too much palettes dropped on your tiny brain, Joe?” Julie asked sarcastically, sitting close to the fire inside the lodge in Ormond.

“The Entity seemed happy with your trial, Joey. Maybe we won’t have to do one for a while.” Susie suggested, twirling her knife.

“Probably for the fucking best.” Joey muttered as Frank stood up, tilting his head.

“Why are you so riled up, man?” He asked.

“Just leave it, Frank. Joey’s becoming soft.” Julie said, rolling her eyes.

“And you’re not? We’re in a whole different fucking dimension!” Joey snapped.

“Why would I be? We get to do whatever we want.” Julie shrugged.

“I thought that way too… when I was a fucking kid.” Joey said to her as she glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank questioned him.

“You guys are still so fuckcing delusional… we can do whatever we want, really?! Even if we weren’t in his shit hole, we wouldn’t have had money, jobs, or a place to stay. I can’t believe I was that fucking childish to think this was paradise.” He said to them.

“Where the fuck is this coming from then, huh?! You just had a good fucking kill sesh and now here you are bitching like a fucking pansy.” Frank said to him.

“Kill sesh? Maybe, I am a fucking pansy for not wanting to be cool and edgy for killing innocent people.” Joey said, inches away from each other’s faces.

“Innocent people, huh? Who’d you see there, Joey?” Julie asked, a grin on her face. She seemed excited from the anger.

“Nobody.” He quickly replied.

“Was it somebody from school?” She asked.

“I didn’t see nobody, now fuck off.” He said.

“Ever since that one Ormond trial, you’ve been acting so fucken soft. We all noticed, Joey. You feel bad for one of those survivors, don’t you?” Julie said to him.

“They’re not worth feeling sorry for, Joey. They’re here for a reason and we have to punish them.” Frank said to him.

“How the fuck do you know that? Did that janitor deserve it?! Did Susie deserve this?! They sure as hell didn’t and neither did Y/N!” Joey yelled at them. Susie’s face lightened a bit. She also missed her old life but was often bullied by Julie.

“Y/N, huh? Must be one of those newer gals. You like her, Joey?” Julie asked him.

“Skip of the tongue, bitch.” Joey muttered.

“Awe, you finally found a girl. Frank and I were starting to think you’d be a virgin for eternity.” Julie said to him with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joey said angrily.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it. She’ll probably end up as the Entity’s lunch by next week. Sometimes it kills survivors for good. Just imagine what it would do to somebody one of the killers cared for.” Frank said, smiling when the realization hit Joey.

“Awe, Joey’s showing emotion for once.” Julie teased. Joey felt scared for the first time in forever. Was it true? Would it kill Y/N because he cares for her in that way?

“Leave him alone, guys. You act like you’re not a couple.” Susie said to them.

“Oh, shut up. That’s different, we’re a group.” Julie rolled her eyes.

“Fuck you guys.” Joey said as he stormed off, leaving the other three. He needed to check up on Y/N somehow.

[moonlit-jeno]

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5  seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling. 

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts. 

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.” 

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence. 

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?” 

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own. 

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

~

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back. 

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.” 

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you. 

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it. 

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again. 

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

~

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders. 

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.” 

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?” 

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him… 

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

~

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?” 

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

~

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you. 

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen. 

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip. 

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo. 

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten. 

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

~

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-” 

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. 

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat. 

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely. 

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up. 

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?” 

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids. 

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence. 

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you. 

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower. 

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

[aaronhotchnersquarterzip]

Meeting You Flipped the World Upside Down - Or Maybe Just Mine

So I’ve decided I’m gonna start posting the finished fic on here. I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do :) 

Summary: Reader has been a rut, stuck in a never ending cycle of college worries and job interviews. Never did she think that SSA Aaron Hotchner, or Agent as she likes to call him, would walk into her favorite late night diner and flip her world upside down. And he for sure didn't expect to fall in love so quickly with the soon to be college grad. They navigate finding love and working together to rediscover what that means for each of them.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

The Diner

I quite literally had nothing to do. I swear the couch had an indent from where I had sat for, minimum, the past week. There were three months before the new semester started and I was nonstop scouring for a part-time job in the area. Whilst all my friends partied the summer away I was stuck in my parents house so I could at least live three months rent free. As I was approaching my senior year at Cornell, I carried an impressive amount of student loans to my name. I worked several jobs to keep myself afloat during the year but for some reason I had no luck the past few months. With a sigh I closed my laptop for the third time that evening and decided to go for a late night drive. My tiny Subaru sped through the Virginia freeways until I ended up on the edge of D.C. 

This wasn’t the first time I drove into the city at such a random time, 2:54 to be exact. There was a 24 hour diner just outside the city that I frequented on nights like these, I guess subconsciously I wanted a milkshake and some fries. Sure, McDonalds would've been more convenient, smarter too, but where's the fun in that? I sat down in a booth facing the entrance so I could have a clear view of my surroundings. Something my former Marine father instilled in me at a young age, never have your back to the enemy. Nobody had ever bothered you before at the diner so you weren't on high alert when the bell rang, signaling someone had walked in. It was only when you heard his voice did you acknowledge his presence. He was talking to the waitress about what she recommended at the time like this, going on about how he wanted something sweet. 

“The chocolate milkshake does me wonders at 3 am,” you yelled over with a smile. One he returned. 

“One chocolate milkshake then please.” After ordering he promptly stood up and walked over to your booth. “Would you mind if I sat?” 

You thought for a few moments. He didn’t look like a threat, hell, what serial killer orders a milkshake at 3:15 in the morning on a Wednesday. It was best not to think about statistics actually, this would be a pretty good ploy. As if he sensed your hesitancy, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his badge. 

“SSA Aaron Hotchner, I don’t want to intrude but it's hard to avoid the presence of such a beautiful woman so close to me.” Damn, well now I had to let him sit with me. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere Agent,” you smirked while gesturing for him to take the seat across from you. “I’m Y/N Y/L.”

The waitress appeared moments later with his milkshake and smiled at the both of you before walking back into the kitchen. 

Taking a sip on his milkshake he smiled up at you, “thank you for the suggestion Y/N. Now what brings you into a diner this early in the morning? You can’t be much older than a junior in college.”

“Sometimes you just need a break from reality. I could ask you the same question, Agent but I don’t think you’ll give me a clear answer either.” He raised his eyebrows at your remark, testing you. “Unless I pegged you wrong Agent, so tell me, what are you doing here?”

“I certainly like the break from reality answer, but you’re right there's always something more. I just got back from a case and my son was already asleep at his aunt's house, I figured I could use the distraction. An empty house isn’t the most comforting.” You nodded along, knowing all too well the feeling of being alone. When you weren't at home you were normally holed up in the campus library or in your apartment. Your roommate during the semester was nice and all but you both had your own lives, mainly she had one. 

“Trying to find a job that will utilize my education is draining, I needed a break from the constant rejection. A real mood killer.” 

“What do you study and where?” When you entered this conversation you did not expect some real interest. This was beginning to feel like the small talk part of a first date, something you’re way too accustomed to lately. 

“Cornell studying economics.” You slowly sipped on your straw and pushed your fries toward the center of the table to share with Aaron. “I want to work for HUD, although that's nothing compared to the FBI Agent Hotchner.” You smirked and winked at the man. 

“It’s certainly not unimpressive though, you should be proud, honestly. The FBI isn’t all it's cracked up to be, it has its moments but I feel satisfaction from what I do. That's what matters in the end isn’t it?”

“I was a federal prosecutor before I joined the FBI, being able to stop criminals in the act grants me more satisfaction than reading their case files and presenting it in front of a jury. I feel like I do more good this way.”

Never in a million years did you think this was what you were going to walk into when you got in your car hours prior. How in the world did this seemingly kind hearted man, and not unattractive as well, walk up to you of all people. You stared in awe as he drank his milkshake. I guess you were staring far too long because all of a sudden his voice boomed in your ears again. 

“You still here? I know I can be pretty boring.” He smirked and snapped his fingers in front of your face making your cheeks tint a shade of red. “Yeah yeah of course I am. Sorry about that, I guess the time is starting to get to me.” You chuckled slightly and shifted under his soft gaze. “You aren’t boring Aaron, in fact you’re the opposite. I haven’t talked to anyone so passionate about what they do. It’s - It’s inspiring, really.” Your body reacted on impulse and reached across the table for his free hand, holding it over the table. 

Both of you seemed just as shocked at your actions, making you quickly let go and cough to try and ease the awkwardness in the air. Luckily, the waitress came by with both of your checks at the exact right time. Before you could reach into your wallet Aaron had already placed his card out and handed the waitress both of your bills.

“Aaron, I am capable of paying for my own food.” You still smiled at the sentiment. 

“I am well aware that you are capable, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to thank you for your company.” He swiftly grabbed your hand in the same fashion you had earlier, except this time you didn’t pull away. 

“There were other ways to thank me, Agent.” Summoning all of your confidence, you reached for his phone and quickly typed your name and number into it. “Don’t be afraid to use it, Agent. I’ll be waiting.” And with that, you winked and walked out of the diner without a glance back. 

And man, were you hoping he would use it soon.

[reidamancy]

too soon || spencer reid

summary: When you wake up in the hospital, buried feelings arise and you must now make a difficult decision. (spencer reid x fem!reader)

category: angst

warnings: detailed descriptions of kidnapping, mentions of guns and drugs, mild cursing

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this was really a struggle to write bc i hated how it kept turning out, but now after a month since i posted Too Late, i’m finally happy with it! this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and i hope it did Too Late justice (although i think i still like Too Late better lol)

MASTERLIST

(part one, part two)

(ICYMI: read part one here)

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.”

His voice echoed through your mind as you slowly gained consciousness. You smiled as you felt his hand in yours and you gave it a squeeze.

You slowly opened your eyes and greeted the blurry figure beside you. “Spencer,” you whispered with a smile.

“Spencer? Who’s Spencer?”

Your vision refocused as you looked over and saw that the figure was actually your boyfriend Connor. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment as you tried to laugh it off. “Sorry, he was the last person I saw.”

Guilt washed over you at once. During this entire ordeal, your boyfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. Connor must have been so worried about you... while all you could think about was Spencer. You shut your eyes and attempted to shake the thoughts of your ex away, but much to your dismay, they stayed.

Your shallow laughs were cut off with a wince as the pain in your body hit you at once. You grimaced as you placed a hand over your stomach, trying to sublimate the pain. Connor looked at you with concerned eyes, but you waived it off. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

Connor shook his head as his eyes filled up with tears. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. “No, you’re not, Y/N.” He leaned over and placed another kiss on your forehead. “Oh God, I thought I lost you,” he whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours. 

You smiled as you leaned into your boyfriend only to feel... nothing. You tried to combat the guilt swirling in your stomach by forcing the butterflies and happiness you felt whenever Connor was around. He’s your boyfriend, why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You bit your lip at your guilty conscience as Connor sat back and ran a hand through your hair. The tension in the air was suffocating; between Connor’s intense stare of worry to your seemingly absent feelings, you had to lighten the mood.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You quipped, laughing.

Connor’s face softened as his laughter joined yours. You heard footsteps enter the room and when you looked to see who it was, your eyes lit up. You ignored your heart’s flutters as you exclaimed, “There’s the man who saved my life!”

You tried your best to mask the overwhelming emotions that erupted once you saw Spencer. You overcompensated your guilty feelings by enthusiastically introducing your ex to your boyfriend. “Spencer, I want you to meet Connor. My boyfriend.”

You cringed at your tone as soon as the words left your mouth. Maybe you were too enthusiastic... And you were too caught up in your own delivery that you didn’t notice Spencer’s face fall. 

But your boyfriend was none the wiser as he walked towards Spencer.

“I owe you the biggest thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Connor extended his hand for a handshake, but Spencer just nodded at him. 

Spencer gave a tight smile and cleared his throat. “I should uh, I should give you two some privacy.” His eyes stayed on the ground and his voice was weak. He gave you a quick glance and said, “Glad to see you’re awake, Y/N.” before swiftly leaving the room.

Connor sat back down next to you and said, “So that’s Spencer.”

You gave a slight nod and looked away. 

---

Connor left to get lunch, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Seeing Spencer for the first time prompted a confusing set of emotions to bubble up inside of you. You were relieved to see him again; he saved your life and now you could properly thank him. 

But you couldn’t deny that what you were feeling was more than that. 

Why was your first instinct to call your ex-boyfriend, of all the people in the world? And why did your heart leap just at the sight of him? You thought you had buried these feelings long ago but right now, you felt the same as you did six months ago. It was as if your voicemail opened a Pandora box of hidden emotions. Now you just needed to find a way to close it.

Because you couldn’t afford to be thinking this way. You had a boyfriend now. Just thinking of Spencer in a different light felt like a betrayal, and you couldn’t do that to Connor. 

Besides, with all the feelings that Spencer brought back, he also brought back all the pain. No matter how much your heart longed for him, you couldn’t ignore the heartbreak that resurfaced with every thought of Spencer Reid. 

You couldn’t go down that road again. Spencer made no effort to fix what you two had after the fight, so why should you be pining after a man who doesn’t want you back? And you had to stay loyal to Connor; you can’t be thinking about your ex like this. You’ve moved on. He’s moved on.

Just then, the door swung open and a familiar mop of brown curls walked in. You pushed down your conflicting feelings and politely smiled at him. “Hi, Spencer.”

Spencer looked at you and cleared his throat. He looked disheveled, and he carried a large paper pad with him. “Hi Y/N,” he said then cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” He asked, voice soft.

“Like I just got stabbed by a serial killer.” You deadpanned.

Spencer visibly swallowed and lowered his eyes.

You regretted your answer as soon as you saw him sulk. “Too soon?” You nervously laughed. “It was a joke, Spencer. All things considered, I’m fine.”

Spencer looked back at you and slowly nodded, staying silent. 

You glanced down at the pad he was holding. “I’m assuming you’re here on business?”

He nodded. “I’m here for your police report.”

“Oh, right,” you nodded. “I didn’t know the FBI did those.”

“I volunteered.” He glanced at you before immediately looking back down at his papers. “I uh, I thought you would want a familiar face.”

You did, and you appreciated it. “Thank you.” You smiled.

He gave a curt smile and continued. “Are you ready now or should I come back later?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m ready.”

“So tell me exactly what happened.”

You sighed as you let yourself recall the most traumatic moment of your life. “I was at the grocery store.” You set the scene again in your mind, trying to remember everything for him. “I finished putting all my bags in the trunk. I went around to the front door. I just opened it. But before I could sit down-” You took a sharp breath, the memories overwhelming you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, take your time.” His voice was sweet as he comforted you. You shut your eyes to calm yourself, trying to ground yourself with the sound of his voice.

“He uh, he put a towel over my mouth and a gun against my back. I froze, I, I should have fought but I couldn’t move and I tried not to breathe, but I couldn’t hold it any longer. I don’t know what I was breathing in but I knew-” A cry interrupted you and a tear ran down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you started crying. 

A pained expression took over Spencer’s face. He raised his hand towards you but quickly recoiled when he realized what he was doing. He settled on just placing his hand on the side of your bed, lightly patting the hospital mattress. His hands were close, but not touching, your own. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N.” His voice was a whisper. 

You shut your eyes and cleared your throat, pushing through. “I knew I was in trouble,” you choked out. “Next thing I knew, I was waking up in his car. There was duct tape over my mouth. And my hands and feet were in zip ties, Spencer.” You cried as your voice broke. 

Spencer bit his lip, unsure of where the boundaries were to comfort you. He decided to innocently place his hand on top of yours. You silently thanked him for the gesture.

“I saw everything. I know which streets he went on and what turns he took. I saw the numbers on the building when he got to the warehouse. I don’t even think he knew I was awake.” Another tear ran down your cheek. Spencer’s intense gaze never left your face. You avoided his stare, but if you didn’t, you would’ve seen the immense worry in his eyes.

You took a breath before you began again. “When we got there, he carried me into this room. I tried to fight him, I tried so hard. But he was just too strong,” you cried. Your heart was racing as you remembered the fear and adrenaline you felt in that moment. “And his voice, I- I can’t forget his voice.”

Your abductor’s voice echoed in your mind as you repeated his words to Spencer.

“My, my, look what we have here.”

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t ya?”

“Aw, it’s just you and me now. Unless you want someone to help you?”

Your eyes were squeezed shut as his laughter rang in your ears.

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

By now, you noticed Spencer had grasped your fingers in his hand. The action was comforting. 

“He- he hit me with his gun and said, ‘Don’t try anything.’” Your head throbbed a little harder as you recalled his strike. “Then he gave me a phone and said, ‘No police. Make sure they answer.’ So, I- I called you.”

You brought yourself to look into his eyes. Tears fell from your eyes and you noticed his were glossy.

“Why?” Spencer asked.

You were taken aback by the question. You ignored the heat rising to your cheeks as you answered, “You’re an FBI agent.”

Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowed.

You broke away from his gaze.

“Don’t do that.” You said, eyes fixed on his hand on top of yours.

“Do what?”

You brought your eyes back up to his face. “You’re profiling me.”

Spencer opened and closed his mouth, as if he were debating on what to say. “I told myself I’d never forgive you, but the truth is I already have. I can’t leave without you knowing that.” He was reciting your voicemail. “Is that true?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You stayed silent as your eyes remained on your hand in Spencer’s. You weren’t thinking of the repercussions when you uttered the last words of your voicemail. You just knew you needed him to hear it, even if it was the last he’d ever hear from you. 

But now that Spencer was in front of you, asking for answers, you froze. This was a conversation you never planned on having, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

Spencer acknowledged your silence and leaned forward, disregarding his paper pad. “Y/N,” he whispered, voice soft. You avoided his eyes, feeling more tears already starting to form. “I listened to that voicemail 167 times. I memorized every word, every breath, I... Please, Y/N. Tell me I’m over-analyzing. Tell me my emotions are biasing my profiling skills. Tell me the only reason you called was because of my job.” His voice was stern, masking his hurt. If you were looking at him, you would have seen the tears in his eyes and saw that he was practically begging you to alleviate his pain.

But in your mind, all you heard was a cry from a man who didn’t want anything to do with you.

Tears fell from your eyes as you shook your head. You wanted to tell him you only called him because he’s an FBI agent. It’d only be fair. You’d go back to Connor, he’d go back to living his life. You’d both be able to move on. But it wasn’t the truth. 

Deep down, you knew you said those words to him for a reason; there was still so much left unsaid. And as afraid as you were to expose your raw emotions to him, you opted for vulnerability because it was impossible to leave this alone. 

Your voice was strained as you whispered, “I can’t.” 

“I thought I was going to die, Spencer.” You looked at him with teary eyes and were surprised to see his expression mirrored your own. “When he gave me the phone, you were the first person I thought of. I needed to talk to you one last time; there was so much I haven’t said, so much I needed to say, to you and I wasn’t thinking when I dialed. I called you because I needed you, Spencer. Not your badge.”

You let out a sniffle as the pace of your words quickened. “I wasn’t thinking,” you repeated. “I didn’t realize I was calling you until I heard your answering machine. Then everything came back to me. Your job, our memories. You gave me hope, Spencer.” You were rambling, desperate to justify your call before he could shut you down. “So I gave you clues, thinking maybe I could get out of there. But just in case it didn’t work out, I told you what I needed you to hear the most,” you sobbed. “And I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called, I-”

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N.” Spencer interrupted you and confessed for the second time. He had heard all he needed to hear, and he couldn’t stand another minute without telling you. 

You froze. “What?” You breathed.

Your mind was rampant, emotions were bouncing around inside of you as your thoughts scattered.

He, he loved you. He still loves you. This changes everything. You had prepared for your resurfaced love of Spencer to go unrequited. Although a part of you longed to feel that way again, you had accepted that you lost that feeling the day you lost Spencer. You were prepared to rebury your love, but he feels the same way. How could you dismiss your feelings for him if he feels the same way?

He loves you? He can’t. Not after what he put you through. How can he say he loved you, that he never stopped loving you, after breaking your heart six months ago? How could he have loved you while you were struggling to put yourself back together in the aftermath of your relationship? It took so long for you to heal after him, and now he’s claimed to have loved you this entire time?!

“It was never you, Y/N, I-”

You took your hand out of his grasp. “No, no, Spencer. You can’t do this to me.” 

“Y/N, I’m sorry-”

“No! Do you remember the last thing you said to me?!” You held your hand over your chest as you looked at him through teary eyes.

Spencer sighed and lowered his head in shame. “Yes.” he whispered.

“Spencer, just talk to me!”

“Leave me alone, Y/N!”

Both of your minds remembered your last fight at the same time. 

It was late, you had shown up to his apartment uninvited that day. You suggested a spontaneous movie or a quick late-night dinner. He shot you down. Up until then you had tried everything, but the man in front of you was still a stranger in the shell of Spencer Reid. So after weeks of negligence, the two of you got into a screaming match in his apartment.

“I have left you alone, Spence!” You yelled through your tears. “It’s been three weeks. I’ve given you space, time, I’ve kept my distance, but enough is enough! Please, I’m just trying to help you!”

“I never asked for your help!”

“Well, can you help me Spencer?” You were sobbing now, but Spencer’s expression didn’t soften. “I haven’t felt your touch in weeks, when you’re home you feel so far away, you don’t talk to me anymore, hell you won’t even look at me!”

“Then stop being so fucking clingy.” He sneered in your face.

“Clingy?!” You screamed. “Is it clingy to want a relationship with my boyfriend?! I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

Spencer glared at you and you tried one more time. “Please, Spencer. I just want to fix us. I don’t know what happened when you were away but if you’d just let me-”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t...?”

“I don’t want to fix us.”

Your breath had hitched and your heart dropped. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know? You don’t know me anymore apparently.”

“Spence, I, I love you, and I know you’re going through a hard time-”

“I don’t.”

Hot tears silently fell down your cheeks. You had to be sure what he was saying, even if it broke your heart. “You don’t... what?”

“Love you.”

You bit your lip as a sob racked through your body. “You’re upset. I’m going to leave, and we can talk in the morning.” You turned your back towards him as you began to open the door. But his voice interrupted your action and broke your heart in one sentence.

“Yeah, don’t even bother coming back.”

Tears were now streaming down Spencer’s face as he said, “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. You have to know-”

“No, Spencer. What I know is you broke my heart. You don’t get to come back and tell me you loved me all along. It isn’t fair.”

“No, what isn’t fair is you clearly still have feelings for me and you’re not letting me reciprocate them!” Spencer’s voice raised in pitch as he increasingly became exasperated.

“I, I never said that.” You scoffed, feeling the dryness in your throat. 

“You didn’t have to.” Spencer whispered. He licked his lips and leaned forward. “Y/N, your pupils are dilated. Your pulse is 30% higher than usual.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as to how he knew that. But then you became acutely aware of the heart-rate monitor behind you and it made sense. You steadied your breathing, attempting to calm down and rid yourself of these involuntary tells. 

He lowered his eyes and bit his lip, “And when I told you I still loved you, your demeanor completely changed. You didn’t have to say anything, Y/N, I...”

“Spencer, stop.”

“You’re probably confused. A near death experience combined with the emotions of a past relationship-”

“Spencer, please.”

“Maybe I have confirmation bias, but everything points to you still having feelings-”

“Spencer, I don’t want to feel this way!” You half-shouted at him.

Your words hung in the air as both of you processed them. The two of you stared at each other, letting out heavy breaths at the intense atmosphere.

“What?” He breathed.

“I don’t want to feel this way, Spencer.” You shook your head as more tears escaped you. “Spencer, you broke me. I truly thought you were the one, but you didn’t even give us the chance. I don’t know what happened, but I would’ve gone through anything with you, Spencer. We could have worked through it together. If you had just let me...” You trailed off as sobs racked your body.

Spencer hung his head as tears fell into his lap.

“Did you know I came back the next morning?” You croaked. You heard a small gasp from Spencer and continued, “I don’t know why. I was staring at your door, trying to knock, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve...” Spencer started but he trailed off. Even he knew that at that point in time, he would have only hurt you more than he already had.

“What was I supposed to think Spencer? You ignored me for weeks, and when we finally talked, you told me to leave. You obviously didn’t want me there anymore. But I wanted to knock, I wanted to knock so bad. I just, I couldn’t handle being shot down again. So I left.”

You swiped away the tears on your face. “And I figured you’d call me if you wanted to talk again. But you never did. And I had my answer.”

Spencer let out a sob. “I didn’t know it yet, but I needed you.”

“And I needed you, Spencer. Those weeks before our breakup were hell. All I wanted was my boyfriend back.” You cried.

“But I’m here now, Y/N.” Spencer breathed and you shook your head. He continued through his tears and said, “I’m here and I still love you as much as I did back then. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. All I could ever think about was you and how I lost you...” Spencer’s voice became a whisper. He grabbed your hand. You let him. 

“I wasn’t in my right mind, Y/N. I became addicted to dilaudid and I pushed everyone away because I thought I could handle it by myself. But that’s when I needed you the most. If I could take it all back, if I could take back all the pain I’ve caused, I would. I’m so so sorry for hurting you, Y/N.” Spencer sobbed.

“It took me so long to heal from you, Spencer.” you cried. “I can’t go down that road again... but for some reason my heart can’t let you go.” You stared at your hands as you gave into temptation and slowly interlocked your fingers through his. You could hear Spencer’s breath hitch at the small action. He squeezed your hand and the two of you looked at each other with teary eyes. 

“Why can’t I get over you? Why do I still love you even after you broke my heart? I don’t want to feel this way. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t be feeling this way.” You cried. “But I just can’t help it.” You looked up at him through damp lashes and saw him biting his lip.

“I never should have let you walk through that door. I miss us, Y/N. I didn’t know how much I needed you in my life until you left. Please, Y/N. I’ve tried to move on, but I just couldn’t. It’s you, Y/N, it’s always been you. And even after all this time, I still love you... It’s scary how much I still love you.”

“You didn’t tell me he was your ex.” A voice interrupted you and your head jerked towards the door to see Connor standing at the entrance. 

You snatched your hand out of Spencer’s as you stammered, “Con- Connor! How long have you...”

“Long enough.” He rolled his eyes. “Look Y/N. I am no one’s rebound, and I am definitely no one’s second choice.” Connor scoffed. “Here’s your lunch.” He dropped one of his bags down on a nearby chair and left the room. 

“Connor!” You called out to him but it was too late. You sighed as you leaned back against your hospital bed. 

You wiped the tears from your cheeks as you looked over at Spencer. He licked his lips and quietly said, “But I understand if I’m too late. Time changes people. Just say the word, and I’ll leave you alone.” He got up to leave but you reached for his arm. 

“Spencer,” you stopped him. He looked back at you, completely broken. You blinked the tears out of your eyes but no words came out. The two of you stood, frozen in time with unspoken words written over your faces. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted to say something, anything.

But when no words left your mouth, he gave you a small nod then left the room. 

You were still frozen, your hand in the same position it was when it was on his arm. Your mind was scattered and your heart was torn. What just happened?

---

You stayed in the hospital for two more days. Since then you had a few visitors, but none from the two men you needed to see the most. 

It gave you time to think. You now held two hearts in your hands and you weren’t sure what to do.

With Connor, he was a safe choice. And he was still your boyfriend. Just the thought of betraying him and getting back with your ex didn’t sit right with you at all. Connor was a good guy, he was smart, cute, funny, and a total sweetheart. Not to mention, he was there to pick up the pieces that Spencer left behind. How could you betray him after all of that and go running back to your ex?

But Connor was a temporary high that could never compare to the way Spencer made you feel. Spencer was your greatest love. He showed you what love was supposed to be; Spencer Reid was everything you wanted in a man and more. Your relationship with Spencer was a whirlwind of emotions, and the two of you had a love you could only dream about... up until the last month. 

But were you willing to overlook that, in the name of true love? The spark between you and Spencer was undeniable, but the foundation of a committed relationship was lacking: trust. You didn’t know if you could trust him with your heart again. And the worst part, Spencer Reid had so much power over you because you were still undeniably head over heels for the young genius. 

But could you could forget about him and continue living your life with Connor? Maybe one day you and Connor could have what you and Spencer had. Or maybe you never will. Was it worth the risk?

You looked back on all the memories you shared with Connor, looking for a sign, any sign to stay. You were desperate to protect your heart from more heartache, even if it meant losing Spencer. You thought back to the beginning of your relationship and tried to remember the blissful feeling Connor gave you. How he brought out butterflies in your stomach and made your heart skip a beat. But that’s when you realized that euphoria you used to feel was nothing but a distant memory. Your entire relationship with Connor was based on a short-lived infatuation. An infatuation that ended the minute you dialed Spencer.

Because the entire time, Connor was a distraction from your feelings for Spencer. Connor may have masked your feelings for your ex, but they were still there. They always were. At that point, it was undeniable. You knew you had to follow your heart.

---

After you were discharged from the hospital, you knew exactly what to do. Your plan was simple: you’d make a quick stop before going to straight to Spencer’s apartment. But there was one factor you didn’t take into account. It was the first time you’ve been truly alone since the abduction. You caught yourself looking over your shoulder multiple times, and your heart raced as you rode on the subway. Everyday acts became daunting, and the task at hand didn’t help to calm your nerves.

It felt like years before you found yourself staring at Spencer’s apartment door. Your heart was still beating out of your chest as you stared at his apartment number. You took a deep breath and remembered the last time you were standing here. You weren’t going to make the same mistake again.

You knocked. 

There was the quiet patter of footsteps behind the door, and you felt your heart rate pick up as the shadows came closer. 

Finally the door swung open, and a tired-looking Spencer answered. Once you saw him, you couldn’t hold it in anymore; you immediately burst into tears. 

“Y/N?” He said your name in confusion before instinctively pulling you into a warm hug.

He backtracked when he realized his hug might have been unwelcome, but when you rested your head against his shoulder, he instantly relaxed as he pulled you into a full embrace. He pulled you into his apartment and shut the door, giving the two of you some privacy. 

He held you close as your tears flowed, his hands silently comforting you. You let out a sigh because now that you were in his arms, you finally felt safe. His shirt was balled in your fists as you whispered his name. “Spencer.” You breathed shakily.

His hands ran up and down your back. “I’m right here, Y/N.”

“Please don’t leave me.” You cried as you held on to him tighter. 

He shook his head. “Never, Y/N, never again.”

“Spencer, I’m scared.”

The proximity of your bodies allowed Spencer to feel your heartbeat as it pounded in your chest. Your hands trembled as they held on to his shirt, and he realized the true cause of your tears. 

He held onto you tighter as he said, “He’s never going to hurt you again, Y/N.” He heard you take a shaky breath, so he emphasized, “Ever.”

You took a step back to look at him. Your hands were now interlocked behind his neck as you looked into his eyes. “Thank you,” you weakly whispered. “Thank you for saving me.”

Spencer bit his lip and shamefully lowered his head. “I should’ve been there sooner.”

You shook your head. The odds were against him, and you knew that. But he made it. He was there, and not a moment too soon. Spencer saved your life, and he was just in time.

You released one of your hands from his neck and traced his jawline until you got to his chin. You used your thumb to gently bring his eyes back up to yours. “You were right on time,” you whispered. 

Spencer’s brows furrowed as he eyed your bandages, but before he could say anything you closed the gap between the two of you and pulled him into a kiss.

You both smiled into the kiss as your hands found their way into his hair. Your fingers weaved their way into his curls as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you up toward him. You got on your tip toes to meet his tall stature.

As your lips moved in sync, your bodies moved impossibly close as the two of you engulfed each other. Holding each other tight, his soft lips moved against yours until you both had run out of air. He pulled away and let his forehead rest on yours.

Spencer licked his lips. “Um, what about...”

“I broke up with Connor.”

A huge smile broke out on Spencer face, but he quickly regained his composure and nonchalantly said, “You did?”

You nodded. “Yeah, like literally just now.” You let out a small chuckle as you nervously asked, “It’s not too soon is it?”

Spencer laughed and said, “I’ve been waiting six months for this.”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled. Your hands traveled down his shoulders and onto his chest, resting right above his heart. 

“I never stopped loving you, either.” You whispered. 

His hands retreated from your waist and moved up your body until they met your shoulders. His large palms engulfed your shoulders in warmth, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as they went down your arms and onto your hands. He pulled your palms away from his chest and into his own and you interlocked your fingers.

“Please don’t leave me,” you repeated, only this time the words had an entirely different meaning. Spencer’s heart broke at the implication, though he knew your insecurity was completely valid.

“I promise I will make up these last seven months to you.” He brought your interlocked hands up to his face and kissed the back of your hand. “And I will never lose you again.”

Spencer brought a hand under your chin and lifted your face towards his. “You’re so strong you know that?” You broke out into a huge smile as tears welled in your eyes. You cupped the sides of his face with both of your hands and replied, “So are you.” 

You brought his face down to place a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Addiction is no joke. I wish I could have been there so you didn’t have to go through it alone.” Spencer shamefully lowered his eyes. “But,” you quickly added. You ran your thumb along his cheek bone and said, “I’m so proud of you for overcoming it.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “And I’m proud of you, Y/N. That beautiful mind of yours saved your life.” Tears silently fell down your cheeks as you smiled up at him.

Spencer smiled as he used his thumb to wipe the tears away. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He whispered in the softest voice. He pulled you into another hug as he whispered into your ear, “And I’ll never let anything happen to you again.” His breath was warm against your ear, and his voice sent shivers down your spine. “I promise.”

You held him tighter as you said, “I love you, Spence.”

Spencer instantly relaxed at the nickname, missing the way it fell from your lips. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arms held you close. The two of you finally had what you had denied yourselves for six months, and both of you were doing everything to savor the moment. With eyes closed, your bodies swayed together, holding each other tight and memorizing the way you felt in each other’s arms.

After missing him for the past half year, being here with Spencer just felt... natural. It felt like you just came home. He was your home. And for the first time in six months, you were finally where you belonged.

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. III

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 1968

a/n: Part 3!! Honestly, I feel like this series could've been a one shot, but I wasn't feeling inspired to write the whole thing at once and I knew I would finish it if I posted part of it because I would stress about people wanting the next part 🙃

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Years Ago

Bucky could only be described as a ball of nerves when you walked into the room. It felt like his brain shut off.

He had spent the last thirty minutes practicing what he was going to say to you when you arrived for your weekly movie night. Basically, it boiled down to six simple words: I'm falling in love with you.

Despite Steve, and a slightly out of character Sam, ensuring him that you felt the same, he was still skeptical. Why would you choose him when you could get any guy, or girl for that matter?

As he nervously stared at you, he could see your lips moving, but no sound could be registered above his own internal panic.

He didn't fully comprehend you had even said anything until he registered the panic on your face. Suddenly, his own thoughts disappeared.

"Oh no. No, no, no. I'm so sorry. You obviously don't feel the same. I'm just gonna go! I'll, uh, I'll see you later." You tried running out of the room, but Bucky was too quick.

"Huh? I don't feel what?" He was completely stunned that he had gotten so worked up in his own nerves that he missed what you said. He was supposed to be trained in observing people. He should be able to multitask, especially when one task is completely within his own mind.

"Bucky, really it's okay. I'll be fine. We'll be fine! I just, I need a minute... or a few to-"

"Y/N, doll, I'm so sorry." He sputtered as tears pooled in your eyes. What the hell did he miss? "I didn't hear a word you said."

"You... what? Why not?" The tears continued to pool as you did your best to hold them back for when you were alone in your room.

Bucky took a deep breath before he began talking faster than you'd ever heard him speak before.

"I'm falling in love with you." You honestly stopped breathing for a minute. "I was trying to think of how to tell you. That's why I didn't hear you. Steve convinced me that I should tell you. Sam a little bit too honestly. They kept saying it wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled up. And, I mean, I just-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his eagerly. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, soft smiles growing into wholeheartedly happy grins.

"You're an idiot." You chuckled, pressing your forehead to his. "That's what I said when you so graciously ignored me."

"I- You what?" Bucky's jaw dropped.

"I'm falling in love with you too."

-

Present

Waking up in Bucky's arms felt right. There was no other way to put it. His presence had a soothing effect unparalleled by anything you had ever felt before.

His face was relaxed, a slight smile pulling on his lips. You brushed his hair out of his face, slowly rubbing your thumb along his cheek and down his jaw.

A familiar ball of guilt grew in your stomach as you cuddled closer to his body. It may have only been two days since you woke up, but this group of heroes quickly found a place in your heart, almost like they'd been there all along. Lying to them about your past was gnawing on your heart, slowly breaking down your resolve.

You carefully removed yourself from his embrace, softly closing the door to your bedroom as you left. You knew he would want to talk about last night, and you just weren't ready for that. Not yet.

You wandered the halls until, three dead ends later, you eventually made it to the kitchen. Much to your relief, the common area was empty. You had just enough time to calm your internal panic about what food you could eat when Natasha walked in.

"I'm about to make a smoothie, want one?" She offered, much to your delight.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." The level of sincerity of your words caught her mildly off guard, not that you or anyone would have been able to tell.

"So, how are you feeling?" She questioned lightly, hiding her skepticism at your odd behavior. Call her a pessimist, but 3 months with Hydra and you're relatively fine? It doesn't quite add up.

"Oh, um, okay I guess. I feel like my brain is all jumbled." You settled for half truths again, knowing she would easily spot a total lie.

"Right, well that's to be expected after a few months with Hydra. You said they kept you in that room the whole time?" She kept her tone light, trying to empathize with everything you went through.

"Um, yeah... I-" You grabbed your head as memories flashed through your mind. You were in a room, it looked like a lab but it was dark and grimy. People surrounded you, but you couldn't understand what they were saying.

They poked and prodded at you, forcing you to lay down as they strapped you into a metal chair.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" She rushed to you, smoothie forgotten in the blender as you screamed, remembering the pain you felt in that chair. You didn't even realize you were muttering under your breath.

Her voice drew you back to the present. You abruptly stood up, backing into a corner as you glanced around the room.

Slowly, the past two days came back to you. Flashes of memories, old and new mixed together in your head, all out of order.

You were in the Avengers compound.

Your were buried in rubble, people screaming and crying surrounded you.

They thought you were one of them.

You were being arrested, locked in the room where Bucky found you.

They didn't know the truth.

"Y/N?" Nat questioned again, slowly moving toward you.

"I'm fine. I, uh, I'm okay." You took deep breaths, slowly calming all your nerves.

"What happened?" She pulled you out of the corner, leading you back to the island for your smoothie.

"I, um, I was back there." You stuttered, trying to make sense of the image. "But, it was different. A different room." You were too shaken to think about what could happen from sharing this new development.

"A different room? What did it look like?" Nat was eager to hear more. If you didn't remember everything from your three months there, maybe they did something to you, and that's why you've been acting weird.

"It looked, it looked like a basement. It was dark and grimy." You left out the part about the lab equipment. "I, um, I think I'm gonna go on a walk. Just to clear my head a little bit."

You left before she could respond, smoothie untouched on the counter.

-

When you returned from the walk, you could hear Nat talking to Steve and Wanda in the kitchen.

"I'm telling you, they must have done something to her. She's not acting right." Nat was firm, steadfast in her belief that Hydra wouldn't have kept you there without trying something.

You're heart rate spiked at her words, nervousness overcoming your body. They were going to figure it out.

"Nat, she just came back from three months of torture. Of course she's gonna act a bit different. She needs time to adjust back to her regular life." Wanda replied, figuring Nat was just a little too paranoid.

"You didn't see her in the kitchen! Wan, she freaked out. She looked terrified. She was muttering something about experiments. What if they messed with her head?" Nat rebuked, still trying to convince them.

"I mean, I guess it's possible?" Steve stated, clearly unconvinced but open to the idea. "She hasn't been acting that off though, not when you take into account what Wanda said."

"Steve, she hasn't told Bucky she loves him. That would've been the first thing out of her mouth if she was herself." Nat settled him with a glare, knowing her point was made.

You panicked. If they figured out you weren't who they thought you were, what would they do to you? Before you registered your own movements, you were running.

You made a break for the elevator, twisting and turning through the halls in what you hoped was the right direction.

Just as you turned the last corner, you ran right into something- no someone.

"Where's the fi-" Tony started to joke, but after taking in your expression stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You replied far too quickly, trying to squeeze past him.

"Y/N, wait." He grabbed your arm, preventing you from getting away. "Talk to me, kid. What's going on up there?" He gestured to your head.

"Really, it's nothing." You wiped a tear from your face, knowing it wasn't helping your case. "I have to go."

"Nope. I'm not gonna let you bottle this all up. You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. Come on." He pulled you into the elevator, leading you to the lab.

Once he had you sat on the window seat in the back, he asked again. "Tell me what's got you this upset. You know we're all here for you, right?"

You couldn't take it anymore. They were all being so nice, and you were lying right to their faces.

"I'm not who you think I am." You barely whispered the words, overcome with a mixture of guilt and self pity. "I don't belong here." You refused to make eye contact until Tony lifted your head to meet his eye.

"Y/N, you probably belong here more than anyone else, except maybe Steve, but he doesn't count." He tried to lighten the mood, earning an attempt at a small smile from you.

"I really don't. I'm not a hero. I'm a murderer." You cried as you finally admitted the truth. The relief you felt was instantly weighed down by fear at what would happen next.

"What are you talking about?" Tony was clearly confused by your admission. "Y/N, your not a murderer."

"I'm not an Avenger." You moved your hands to cover your face, knowing you weren't strong enough to admit this to his face. "I wasn't in that room for three months, it was three years!" You missed the way his brow furrowed deeper in confusion as you continued to rant. "i don't know why you all think I'm some hero. Nobody was supposed to rescue me. I was in prison. I'm a killer."

You took a shaky breath, as you kept going. "I was in that room because I made a bomb that killed 38 people. I- It was accident, I swear! I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I- I think?" You started questioning yourself as memories flickered through your head.

"It's all fuzzy." You desperately shook your head, trying to make everything clear.

"It wasn't supposed to blow up! It was supposed to absorb energy and convert it into power, but it didn't work." You were nearly sobbing, picturing the people you injured and killed. "It exploded and people died! It was all my fault."

Your breathing quickened again, anxiety at admitting what you had done mixed with the guilt of lying to the only people who have ever shown you kindness causing the panic to set in again.

"Hey, hey! Look at me. You're okay. We're gonna fix this. You're not a killer, Y/N." Tony held your face in his hands, speaking firmly but not without compassion.

"Yes, I am!" You shouted at him, causing him to stumble backwards. "I don't know why you all think I'm someone I'm not, but it's true. I don't-" Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to get the words out.

You managed a mumbled, "I don't belong here." Before you passed out.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

Memories tagist:

@otherglowcloud @dontxfearxthereaper