#this fic was like baring my heart n soul and leaving out all the detailed Bad Stuff :^) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chloe-writes · 3 years

Text

Levi x Reader

Angst | Modern - Soulmate AU | 7k words

Summary : being dead since the 19th century, your 200-year-old house in the countryside had been sold to Levi Ackerman. He stumbles upon your old diary and reads it, only to slowly fall in love with you as he continues to read the pages.

Who would have known love could exist between two people separated not only by centuries, but also by death itself ?

" —in the next life, where there is no marriage, but where souls find each other through intimacy, may I attain true love. "

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Characters: Levi, Kuchel, Kenny, Hange, Erwin, Miche, Rod

Content Warning: cancer, implied domestic violence, implied suicide, misogyny

AO3: https://t.co/B7Jq6k5q0v

Note: I made the reader a feminist because I don't think there are much fics that include feminist political themes. Also, I usually use they/them pronouns for Hange, but I will be using she/her pronouns in this work.

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“Here are the keys. Enjoy your new home, Mr. Ackerman.”

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The real estate agent had an air of arrogance, one that Levi Ackerman couldn’t help but detest. Caught up in his own thoughts, Levi barely noticed how the man’s eyes were far too big for his head.

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Ah yes, real estate agent Rod Reiss, whose egotistic demeanor struck an odd contrast to his shabby appearance. That seemed to be an enigma to Levi. However, the Ackerman didn't care to figure out which of those two qualities was more irksome.

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He just wanted to get the transaction over with and move into his newly-bought home.

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The house stood tall with its Victorian style architecture, surrounded by a lush forest and lonely hills. The rural areas of Paradis were the last place on Earth he had expected to live in. However, this had been his mother’s wish since they had gotten the news that she had cancer—to grow old in a home she loved.

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Kuchel wasn't gravely ill, but Levi still wanted to grant her wish. An hour drive from here to his job in the city was a small price to pay in exchange for his mother’s comfort and happiness.

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The house seemed even lovelier than it did in the pictures. And Kuchel soon felt as though she had lived here for years. Levi had always been her son, but now she saw something new in him: he had grown into a man who was kind and sweet.

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The real estate agent seemed hesitant, but nevertheless, was still determined to speak up. “Also, keep everything the (l/n) family left behind. Their belongings come with the house you paid for. If I may have a say, put it up for auction. Century-old antiques cost a fortune!”

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“So we’d have to throw all that ye olden times junk away ourselves?” Levi mumbled more to himself than to Rod Reiss—who was now taking his leave after successfully selling the estate.

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Kuchel had always adored antiques, so she didn't quite appreciate her son's rude remark. “It isn’t junk! I even heard Kenny say there was a piano in the living room. Maybe you could get back into playing.”

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A comment was then heard from the mentioned uncle, Kenny, who was quite displeased with the lack of help in unloading their stuff from the van. “Oi, what ya waiting for, runt? Let’s get settled in.”

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“Keep calling me a runt and you’ll be sleeping in the attic, old man.”

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The castle-like detail of their new home felt like being part of the romance and history of a by-gone era. From the vibrant flowery wallpaper, to the steeply-pitched roofs. Levi didn’t mind the design though, it made him happy to see how this house had captured his mother’s heart.

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His only concern was the thick layers of dust which covered everything in sight; it was a depressing dirty grey—contrasting the elaborately decked out home that reveled in its bright colors.

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“Filthy.”

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There it was again, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness. Kuchel giggled at the thought, it had become an inside joke within the family. “Yes, filthy indeed. Just like your uncle. I had to put a handkerchief over my nose the entire ride so I wouldn’t smell the three-days-no-shower stench.”

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The subject of their conversation then appeared in the room, “No shit, I have been blessed with the misfortune of calling you a sister.”

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“Kenny, when was the last time you took a bath? And I’m not even trying to be offensive, you really do stink.”

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“Aight aight, I get your point, gonna wash up when I’m done cleaning. I’ll mop the kitchen and dining. Levi, you do the rooms and the attic.”

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Though the shorter man thought the division of tasks was unfair, he decided to remain quiet and nod in agreement.

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The attic was, by far, the most interesting part of the house, and much to his dismay, also the dustiest.

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Levi made his way through the junk, broken furniture, and trinkets. It was like reading the story of somebody’s life, he thought, as he gazed at all these things that had been used once, that had been part of every day in the house below.

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Someone had savored each page of the books on the shelf, or maybe someone used to watch the minutes of the grandfather clock tick with interest. But those people were long dead, or gone away, and now the oddments of their lives were piled up here, forgotten.

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It was a bittersweet thought.

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The man decided to start with the bookshelf that expanded across the wall. Halfway through dusting, he spotted something in the corner of his eye. It was a book with a gleaming golden spine, reflecting the sun’s rays that welcomed itself in from the windows.

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Levi was an apathetic individual by nature. He didn’t particularly care about things that weren’t his own business. But there was an odd vibe to the mentioned book; it was so inviting.

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A tingling in his bones warned him that he shouldn’t open it, but his curiosity placated him, driving him onward against his instincts.

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The dust beneath its aging covers represented how patient time was—how the book allowed dust particles to hide its golden touches until the waiting time was over.

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Without any further ado, he flipped it open. Eyes widening at realization, the book was actually a journal.

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(y/n) (l/n)

1821

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“What an ugly name.” Levi snorted, never really understanding parents and their poor naming choices.

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Dear reader, I dare you not to turn the page if you refuse to read of a lousy, miserable life. Yet, if you do wish to seek such knowledge even after warning, then must I say you are one nosy fellow!

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His interest in the book—or more accurately, his interest in the journal—immediately vanished as he didn’t want to snoop into a random dead girl’s business, into your lousy and miserable business.

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He reckoned it was going to be about boy problems anyway, which was what most women he knew in high school wrote about in their stupid diaries. And surely, that wasn’t any interesting.

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However, a thought abruptly entered his mind. In many ways, diaries chart unmapped territory, especially diaries of those who had lived in the past. Levi wondered what lives were like before—to get a sense of the attitudes, opinions, and beliefs that motivated individuals of a different era.

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Written on a regular basis, journals provide commentary on life as it is lived. And this sense of immediacy pulled Levi in and fueled his curiosity in reading about the past in a direct, unfiltered way.

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Making the final decision to indeed snoop into your business, he flipped the pages, eyes following the words of what seemed to be the first entry:

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12th of January, 1821

Last night at dinner, I tried to convince father that I am not meant for marriage, and marriage is not meant for me. My husband-to-be’s ignorance is only one reason in the long list of his shortcomings. Yet, there was no possibility in changing father’s mind.

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Today, I had been wandering in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning. The cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor activity should be forbidden. But that did not matter, I needed to get away from that cursed household, even if the winter were to freeze me with its icy breath.

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“How melodramatic.” Though he pitied the misogynistic situation you found yourself troubled in, Levi couldn’t help but cringe at the thought that he was indeed right—it was about boy problems.

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The man took a peek at the outside world through the high windows, taking in the sight of the orange sunset.

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Kenny and Kuchel were probably waiting for him downstairs, wondering what was taking him so long when dinner was soon approaching. He closed your journal, and placed it back on the shelf.

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Letting out a tired sigh, he had barely started on the reason behind why he even came here in the first place. Cleaning the attic would have to wait another day then.

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At Kuchel’s check-up session two months ago, it was discovered that she was terminally ill, and her cancer was incurable. The only reason she was still taking palliative chemotherapy was for less suffering.

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Kenny had never prayed a lot. He hoped hard, he wished hard, but he didn't pray. Yet when he discovered his sister’s impending death, he prayed to whatever deity that was up there—hoping for her recovery even when there was nothing else to hope for.

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But hope is what keeps us going, right? Without it, the struggle against cynicism and loss of spirit would be greater than the slow, inevitable death of cancer. So Kenny held onto that little hope in his heart and supported his sister at every step of the way.

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Though, what he didn’t support was Kuchel’s decision of hiding the truth from Levi.

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“The runt is going to find out sooner or later. For fuck’s sake, you are dying. Don’t you think Levi deserves to know that? ”

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“First of all, stop calling my son a runt. Second, I will tell him. Not now, but soon.” The frail woman took a slow and long sip from her tea, eyeing her brother from the rim of the cup. She knew Kenny was right, but still refused to listen to his argument anyway.

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“Soon? When you’re already on your deathbed?”

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A pair of approaching footsteps were heard. Kenny immediately zipped his mouth shut while Kuchel greeted her son. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

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“Good morning.“

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“Ahh fuck it, I can’t take it anymore. Levi, your mother has something to tell you.” All attention quickly drifted to the tall male, who was annoyed by how his sister was skirting around the issue they had been discussing only a minute ago.

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The tension in the room grew thicker by each passing second, especially when Levi demanded to know what this was all about, “What’s going on?”

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“I’m just. Aah…” The frail woman’s dilemma had not went unnoticed by the two men. She was clearly buying time, “I’m just upset. Chemotherapy has been causing my hair to fall out. It’s just really upsetting… especially for an ex-model.”

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Part of Levi was relieved to hear that the news wasn’t as serious as he thought it would be, but he still couldn’t help but feel bad for his mother, “I see. Would you feel better if I bought you a wig?”

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“Yes, I’d very much appreciate that. Thank you, sweetheart.”

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Kenny rolled eyes at his family’s exchange of words, not pleased with Kuchel’s dishonesty.

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“If not today, I’ll get you the wig by tomorrow. I’m going now. See you later.” With that, the young adult left for his 10 am shift at work.

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“When are you going to tell him?” Inquired Kenny, choosing to speak only once he was certain his nephew was out of earshot.

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“When I am ready.”

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Hange fixed her glasses and wore a sinister grin, eager to annoy Levi so early in the morning, “Good morning, how’s my favorite sour face?”

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“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” He prayed that Hange would someday finally learn to appreciate peaceful silence, but clearly, today wasn’t that day just yet.

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“Now is definitely not a good chance to shut up. Someone has to be responsible enough to fill in the duty of annoying you.”

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“Makes sense. It does seem like the only aspect you’re capable of being responsible at.”

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“Okay, rude. How’s your mom-“ The bespectacled brunette had barely finished her sentence when Levi pinched her nose. “Ow!”

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“Here's your nose, I found it in my business.”

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Levi then shifted his gaze to the two familiar blond men approaching—who seemingly have heard the banter between him and Hange.

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Scratching his nose, “No, really, Levi. how is Mrs. Ackerman?” Miche hasn’t heard of Kuchel in a long time. since Levi refused to bring the topic up, so he was curious as to how she had been coping up with cancer.

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“I thought the years we’ve spent working together would grant you the knowledge that my mother’s name is Ms. Ackerman, not Mrs. Ackerman.”

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“My apologies.”

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The shorter fellow ran a hand through his black hair, letting out a sigh. “And about mom—she’s alright, though the more intensive course of chemotherapy has been kicking her ass.”

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An awkward silence descended for a moment. Kuchel was always a sensitive topic, not to mention, Levi’s crass choice of words made the entire situation more uncomfortable.

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Erwin finally decided to contribute to the conversation and break the growing tension, “I’m sorry to hear that, we hope her chemotherapy will be worth it in the long run.” The tall blond also cued for their small group to walk along to their respective desks, where piles upon piles of paperwork awaited.

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Though Levi would never verbally admit it to his mother, he was starting to get attached to the rural landscape. There was a sense of serenity from the sight of swaying grasslands during his drive home from work. Maybe the countryside wasn’t so bad after all.

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“I’m home.” He hung his coat on the rack and walked to the kitchen, where he assumed his mother would be. It was a rather amusing scene before Levi: Kuchel hitting Kenny with kitchen utensils as he tried to sneak a piece of meat into his mouth.

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The frail woman’s facial expression turned from threatening to gentle as she heard her son’s approaching footsteps. “Oh, hello sweetheart. Did you just arrive?

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“Yeah. Although I wish I had gotten home sooner to see more of Kenny getting assaulted with a spatula.”

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A pair of eyes rolled in annoyance, “Not funny. And before I forget, there had been some sounds from the attic. Probably mice. Check it, will ya? I’d prefer you throw it away, but if you’d like a new addition to your small circle of friends, I won’t judge.”

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“Hmm. just say you don’t have the balls to check it yourself.”

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“Boys, please mind your language!”

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Once more, the attic had an eerie abandoned feeling to it. The very clearness of silence drew an intense feeling Levi couldn’t shake off. The air around him hummed with an energy that was foreign yet nostalgic.

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And there it was again, the familiar book resting on the shelf. Its shiny golden spine, a contrast to the dimly lit room. It was a mysterious journal really, seeming to know secrets he didn’t, inviting him to take another peak. After all, the unknown draws people in—

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No. He came here for one purpose only. And that was to search for the source of the sounds. That and that only.

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However, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize when someone is being pushed by a circumstance to do something. And for Levi, this was it. Destiny’s (or whatever you call it) interventions can sometimes be read as an invitation to explore.

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With that said, the man abandoned his original purpose and flipped your diary open, picking up at where he last left off.

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3rd of February, 1821

Elliott Dickens, the man I am expected to marry. The main reason why father wants me to wed him is because he is a duke in Marley.

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I don’t even know a single thing about dukes! Except maybe for the fact that dukes are the highest-ranking title among nobles, and that they own large amounts of inherited property.

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But I have no interest in them, their wealth, nor their corrupt practices. Moreover, I have no interest in moving away to Elliott’s hometown.

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People are beginning to flock from rural areas to large urban locations like Marley. Though I cannot blame these people for wanting more job opportunities in the city, but I love it here in Paradis! I do not intend of leaving this province behind.

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This is where I grew up. Every spot here is familiar history.

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I know I can't own a prairie, a meadow, nor a mountainside. But keeping the beauty of Paradis a secret somehow makes it mine.

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Only here may you see nature revealing herself in all her glory. A poet can write of it, a painter can paint of it, but neither can reproduce the same air of reality that sinks deep into the soul of the spectator.

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Both my eyes and mind are delighted in this place I’ve known as home.

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There was a pause, then Levi’s lips stretched into a smile. You were right. You convinced him that Paradis was indeed a place of solace.

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It was refreshing to look across vast spaces of grassland, to lift one’s eyes with delight, to feel the peace that rests on lonely hills. Levi had only been living here for a short while, but Paradis was already starting to feel like home to him.

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This is where he had learned to appreciate silence in a world that never stops talking.

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His entire life, Levi Ackerman had fallen into a naiveté where he looked at the world based solely on what his physical senses can ascertain. But once he saw life through your eyes, through your own words, perhaps he was wrong.

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The world perceived by our senses is different from the world perceived through our essence.

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Perhaps Levi misjudged you, you weren’t as shallow as he initially thought you were.

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Snapping out of his reverie, he started to look for the rodent Kenny was pertaining to. The man made a mental note to come back here and continue reading the journal… and to clean as well, since he wasn’t able to do that last time.

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30th of March, 1821

Dear reader, I hope you had a lovely day, good for you because I did not.

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Elliott told me, “Do you know when it is no misfortune for a young lady like you to lose her good name? It’s when a man like myself gives her a better one.”

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What an audacious remark! Bold of him to say that to me when is last name is Dickens. I refuse to associate myself with a God-awful title that sounds like the filthy thing between a man’s legs.

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Forgive me Shakespeare, but I beg to differ from Romeo & Juliet: “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.” Everything’s in a name; and I refuse the lousy title of ‘Mrs. Dickens’!

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The raven-haired man snorted, Dickens was indeed a horrendous name.

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Over the past weeks, Levi often felt like a voyeur sneakily reading your private writings—spending a decent amount of his personal time trying to decipher your handwriting and piecing stories together from your diary.

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Funnily enough, he roughly knew of your existence before; he never knew of your name and life, because you were an individual from an era he would never get to live in. Yet here he was, seemingly the only person to have ever known you in such an unfiltered way.

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He liked it. He liked the feeling of being a confidant to all your secrets.

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‘Mrs. Dickens’, a big no. I refuse to inherit that title, moreover, I refuse to marry him, and any other man like him.

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I am convinced that a husband will only ruin me, for in this society, women struggle to shape a life and sense of identity outside of marriage.

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So, I must seek wisdom and improvement from books, as knowledge is a tool to reinvent myself!

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These recent feminist political movements have deeply inspired me, and I have decided to devote a great deal of time and energy to recording my thoughts on them in writing books and diaries. Women want equality in education, labor, electoral rights, and opinion in marriage.

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My pursuit of knowledge is linked with feelings of self-worth. It is a quest to remodel myself, not so I could better serve the men in my life, but so that I could better serve myself.

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A mind so deep and a will so strong could never have failed to give Levi a peek on these excursions over the domains of literature and feminism that reflect on your mental prowess.

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With the more he flipped the pages, with the more he got to know you, he found himself squeezed under a new astonishment.

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He liked it. He liked you.

He liked you to the point that he even refused to cleaned the attic. Because by dusting off, it felt like he was erasing your footsteps, allowing your final touches upon these dusty, old things to vanish, like there was no more trace of you in this house.

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Levi sighed. He’d spoken about you to his mother. He told her about your hobbies, your adventures, and that you’re a wanderer who knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules in a misogynistic and unfair society.

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He told her almost everything, but nothing about you being the dead ex-owner of this house... that little detail was to remain a closely guarded secret to himself.

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”When will I meet her? This girl you talk so much of. I bet she’s a lovely lady.”

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“Ah, about that… it’s just, I have no hope of ever calling her mine.”

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“Why so? You’re a handsome and kind young man.”

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Levi so badly wanted to tell his mother why he couldn’t introduce you to her. However, he didn’t want Kuchel to think he had a loose screw and needed his head for examination if he tried to explain this strange circumstance of romance—being in love with the dead.

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“I better go and sort out my paperwork for tomorrow.” He tried, attempting to avoid the topic, but the older woman could see right through him.

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She grabbed his arm just before he could leave. Kuchel looked like she wanted to say something important, yet the defeated look in her grey eyes seemed to convey that she had decided against it.

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“Make sure to get some rest, okay sweetheart? I don’t want you staying up all night long again.”

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Responding with a soft smile, Levi left the kitchen and made his way upstairs, leaving his mother to simply sigh in dismay at the fact that her son was clearly keeping something hidden from her.

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But she couldn’t blame him though, she herself was keeping secrets too.

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Levi found himself in the attic again, where there was a feeling of safety. A calm sanctuary, a dependable sense of home.

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All these ye-olden-times junk, were filled with memories, filled with faded echoes that had ebbed and flowed into the walls over the years. Maybe that’s why the attic felt so homely. It was full of history and love.

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Curiosity was difficult to satisfy; it was a force of nature that looked for answers even before asking questions. Curiosity had been unfairly maligned and characterized as a dangerous pursuit, as we were always taught that curiosity killed the cat.

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But Levi knew better. Curiosity created connections. It cultivated wonder, inquiry, and delight. It sprouted the desire to try, test, and tweak.

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He had been reading wisdom from a diary he formerly did not want to read. He had been finding beauty in places he formerly did not want to look in. And he had learned so much from journeys he formerly did not want to take.

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It made him wonder: how much of our lives are just luck and good timing, and how much of it was actually choice? How could it be that tiny serendipitous events could change so much of us?

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He felt like each choice he had made along the way was part of something bigger than himself. Fate has a funny way of intervening just when we think we have everything in order. And as he thought about all the events that led him to this place, it struck him: so much of life is just blind luck and random chance. With every twist and turn, our lives take us in different directions: you never know what's around the corner.

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Levi understood that the world was governed by randomness. That's why he pursued his curiosity with passion, because he understood that chance favored the prepared mind.ㅤ

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The short man rummaged through the attic, looking for more answers about you from outside the journal. He came across what seemed to be a pile of belongings, covered by an old, dusty cloth. Yanking it off, the sudden movement sent a vortex of dust into the previously stagnant air.

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And there it was, a portrait of you.

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It reflected the perfect image of your figure, with all the brilliant picturesqueness of your beauty. It was strange, the way in which you looked at Levi, looking so steadfastly at him through the medium of the oil painting. It’s like you were actually there, watching him with curious eyes.

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The power of your beauty held him fast, seizing him and filling a gap in his essence. There was grace in your every feature; it sparkled in your deep eyes, lurked in the corner of your lips, and even in the rich tone of your skin.

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It was nice to finally put a face to the name, Levi thought.

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The more he got to know you, the more he realized that you tick in all the boxes for the qualities he never knew he wanted in a woman.

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However, all of this was depressing. Because no matter how much he knew and liked you, he would never have the chance to call you his.

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3rd of September, 1821

I always tell myself that I would rather be happy than be dignified. That I can live alone, and I need not to sell my soul to marriage.

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But sometimes, my mind slips, gradually and subconsciously. And there is an involuntary mental process that conditions me to accept reality despite my desperate efforts to never give in to societal pressure.

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Once dreams wrangle with reality, we must rub our eyes open and wake up. The heavy weight of my circumstances has yet to fully sink in, but I am certain of one thing:

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I am to marry Elliott Dickens, duke of Marley.

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Everything moves so fast. My life will rush from heaven to hell in two weeks, when the wedding will take place. And the future will always happen, no matter how much I try to run away from it.

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The decision has been made, and I am going to be a new woman soon, I am going to be Mrs. Dickens. And I will be leaving everything behind, including this diary.

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To write my heart out—it was freedom to a degree I have not experienced much of before.

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But did that mean all my freedom had been used up? Because at the moment, I am unsure of what to write… How strange it is that when I feel most fervently, it is as though my hands and tongue are tied; I cannot express myself!

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This is going to be the last entry, thank you for making it this far with me.

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Last entry?

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A sense of sorrow set deep inside him. The persistent feeling of emptiness practically had Levi forced into submission and taken hostage by it. All he could do was stare into space, letting it wash over him.

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Was this it? Despite all your efforts, you still chose to marry the duke?

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Then what was the point of writing? Wasn’t it for silent revolution? For feminism? For freeing yourself?

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Or was it only meant for catharsis?

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Maybe it was. After all, writing was meant for those whose thoughts wouldn’t fit their limited mind. So, you used the power of words as a tool to pour your soul on paper. And Levi knew that.

Levi did not think of you as future Mrs. Dickens, a soon-to-be aristocratic wife of a duke. To him, you were simply you. For he knew you better than anyone else could have. He knew you were just a lonely girl, waiting to be read by someone, hoping that you would make sense to at least one person.

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He yearned to stay in this in-between place. Where he was both in modern times and in the past. Where romance existed everywhere and nowhere all at once.

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And just as you had written these entries for him to read, he knew with unshakable certainty that in those little moments, even in a dream, were more real and better than anything he’d known.

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How beautiful it was to replace the world inside him with someone else’s reality. The way you allowed him to look into your deepest fears and desires, your artful poems, your treasured secrets, your worst nightmares, and your most beautiful dreams.

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Your writings unraveled emotions inside him, uncovered new parts of him that were hidden, and breathed a new him into existence with each word that was written.

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It made him feel alive and vulnerable. It made him feel human.

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It made Levi feel so much that sometimes he wished all your poems he were written for him, because his heart, with its hooks, was looking for something—or someone—to love.

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It had been an awfully long day at work for Levi. Piles upon piles of documents never seemed to lessen. It also didn’t help that all he could think of was you, keeping his mind away from successfully accomplishing work.

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He was just about to enter his car when a small bell-like sound from his phone was heard.

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Clicking his tongue, he mumbled a quiet ‘what now’ out of frustration. It was a text from Kenny, which was weird since Kenny rarely contacted him.

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KENNY

5:27 PM

“Where the fuck are you?”

KENNY

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Frowning, Levi continued to read the message.

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5:28 PM

“It's your mother. The doctor is here at home, but they say it’s likely she wouldn’t make it through the night.”

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A heavy weight settled in his stomach. His heart pounded out of control.

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Shit.

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Kenny’s words kept playing on his mind like a broken record as he drove as fast as he could to get home, not caring about beating the red light. He mentally cursed at the fact that it took nearly an hour to get back to the countryside from work.

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The sun dipped below the horizon—the fleeting colors of dusk beginning to fade away—indicating the end of another day, and the end of another life.

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Upon parking the vehicle, Levi didn’t even bother closing the car door as he ran into the house and up the stairs.

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Dread increasing with every step, he saw Kenny and a short lady—most probably the doctor—standing in front of his mother’s room by the end of the hall, as if they were waiting for his arrival.

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Before the man could even yank the door open, he was stopped by the doctor. “I assume you’re Levi, Kuchel’s son? I’m Petra Ral, an oncologist from the specialist cancer team of your mother. May I have a minute?”

ㅤ

It took everything in him to not scold at the ginger woman. What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait after he’d check up on his mother?

ㅤ

Despite the glare Levi was shooting at her, Petra continued her words, trying to phrase her message in a concise fashion, “The cancer in her breasts have spread to her lymphatic system, her lungs, liver, and bones-“

ㅤ

“Just get to the point. So it’s incurable?”

ㅤ

“I’m sorry Mr. Ackerman. There’s nothing more we can do about it.” There was a brief pause. Heavily sighing, the doctor continued, “As you know, according to her latest consultations these past months, the more intense chemotherapy sessions haven’t been successful so we-“

ㅤ

“As I know? I wasn’t informed of this at all.” Levi shifted his gaze to his uncle, sending him an icy glare, “Kenny, you knew about this all along, haven’t you? That the cancer was terminal…”

ㅤ

“It was Kuchel’s wish that I had to respect.”

ㅤ

The younger Ackerman hasn’t even fully grasped the reality of his mother’s imminent death, and suddenly this bombshell was dropped on him? That he was kept in the dark all this time? He knew her condition wasn’t getting better, but he hadn’t expected death to be knocking on her door so early.

ㅤ

He took a deep breath and reached for the door's handle, emotionally preparing himself from what he would be witnessing on the other side.

ㅤ

Finally entering the room, “Mom,” Levi’s eyes had softened at the sight before him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned right away, wasting no time. There was no malice in his voice, only pain.

ㅤ

He knew why she kept this from him, but he still wanted to hear it from her.

ㅤ

It was a good thing that Kuchel had closed her eyes, for if she had seen her son’s sorrowful expression, she might not have answered. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure at work, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

ㅤ

“That’s irrelevant, you should have told me so I don’t have to take this all in just one night!”

ㅤ

A few heartbeats were spent in silence. Both of them knew this would be their last night together, and the thought itself had them struggling to look for the right words to say in their limited time.

ㅤ

There was a knot in her throat which seemed impossible to swallow, “Do you… do you forgive me..?”

ㅤ

That was it; that was Levi’s breaking point. He couldn’t keep his normally stoic façade anymore, the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks finally fell. He hurriedly knelt at the bedside and his arms clasped around her tightly. If hugs healed people, he’d hold her all night.

ㅤ

“Of course I do! I love you.”

ㅤ

She smiled tenderly, though it was the saddest smile she had worn.

ㅤ

“You have been a good son—the best even,” his dying mother said, “and all the love in your heart will help you along in the world.” One last rattling breath escaped Kuchel Ackerman’s lips as she was greeted by everlasting death.

ㅤ

He kissed his dead mother’s hand and wept bitterly. Then, he lifted his feet to leave her bedroom.

ㅤ

The rusty iron hinges of the door creaked loudly as Levi swung it open. He gave his uncle a knowing look: the look of grief.

ㅤ

“I see.” was all Kenny muttered as the younger Ackerman hastily walked away to his own bedroom.

ㅤ

He cried for hours, head under the pillow. And even in those hours, Levi could not find solace in tears. Overcome by weariness, darkness was finally kissing the edge of his vision and he surrendered himself to sleep.

ㅤㅤ

ㅤ

It was a strange dream. He saw his mother well and strong again, and heard her laugh as she always used to laugh when she was happy. And then appeared another woman—one with familiar deep eyes. It was you.

ㅤ

He was confused. Why? Why were you and his mother standing before him?

ㅤ

You stretched your arms out to give him a warm embrace. Levi didn’t care if this was all just a product of his imagination, he crashed himself against you, wanting to savor every second.

ㅤ

It was a foreign feeling to be in your arms. Foreign, yet so nostalgic, so familiar, so… right.

ㅤ

“I wish I were granted a good life, for life is a precious gift, almost too great to understand. Levi, thank you. Thank you for the gift of your love. It made me stay alive even after I am gone.”

ㅤ

His hug tightened as your words registered in his head. Whatever this was, dream or reality, he just wanted to hold you, to feel you. You brushed his hair reassuringly, continuing with what you were saying, “And to think that this earthly affection will only continue to grow in another life, throughout eternity. I can barely conceive of it!”

ㅤ

The man was speechless. He wanted to say something, anything, but not a single word came from him.

ㅤ

Levi shifted his gaze to his mother, silently searching for an explanation to this surreal circumstance. “Son, see what a charming girl you’ve won.”

ㅤ

He gazed back at you, nothing but sincerity in his eyes. All it took was one look, and both of you knew. He pulled you in and pressed your mouth over his, claiming your lips so soft.

ㅤ

So this is love, huh? And suddenly, Levi was just a man with the taste of honey upon his lips.

ㅤ

He awakens from his slumber, and the pleasing sight was gone. Kuchel was gone. You were gone.

ㅤ

Tears were running down his cold cheeks, yet his lips were warm. Wait, could that mean… could that mean that the kiss was real?

ㅤ

Glancing to the clock: 8 in the morning. It seems as though he had slept through the night, giving temporary rest to his embittered soul. Though, he knew that the grief in his heart would not let him sleep for the next days to come.

ㅤ

Recalling his dream, the man immediately got onto his feet with a specific destination in mind—the attic.

ㅤ

As always, the dusty particles in the air reflected the sun-rays, looking like pixie dust. He walked farther into the attic, recognizing it as a place of enchantment.

ㅤ

Although he considered himself a logical person, he believed there existed a kind of magic in the books placed on the shelf, particularly in your diary. Secrets are magic after all, and years upon years that they've been written down on a book that had gotten dusty with age has added to its power.

ㅤ

Between the aging covers—represented by black letters on sheets of paper—were voices from the past. Voices that reached into the future, into Levi's own heart, and echoed in the walls of his mind.

ㅤ

He pulled the familiar diary from the shelf that expanded over the wall, hoping that despite your farewell, there was still going to be another entry, another piece for him to read, and another kiss of comfort to his writhing heart.

ㅤ

It was as if someone had literally knocked on the door; but in this case, his heart. With heavy anxiety, he opened to the part where he left off. Levi was certain that whatever deity or god was up there, they surely heard his heart's desperate pleas. Because much to his luck, there indeed was another page left unread.

ㅤ

14th of December, 1824

To whoever is reading this: we meet again at last! It is the first time in years that I have visited Paradis and since I have picked up a pen to write in this journal. Yet, this will also be the last time I do so.

ㅤ

All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me; I had no need for material possessions, money, nor dowry. And in all of my intercourse with society, there was nothing that made me feel as if I belonged to it. I never understood people very well, and they never seemed to understand me either.

ㅤ

I write to understand myself as much as to be understood, but who am I kidding? Who else is ever going to read these personal writings other than myself?

ㅤ

Even my own husband would not lend me some of his minutes to understand me.

ㅤ

Elliott had not much affection for his own mother and sisters, then who am I to think I will make an exception to this behavior? Every nerve in my body feared him. Our servants were seemingly blind on the subject: pretending they never saw him strike nor abuse me. No one wanted to offend the duke by taking my part against him.

ㅤ

But dear reader, I married him.

ㅤ

Oh my poor heart, only death could release me from a life-sentence of agony in his hands! And the only regret I will have in dying is that it is not for love.

ㅤ

In the next world, where there is no marriage, but where souls find each other through intimacy, may I attain true love.

ㅤ

What?

ㅤ

Instead of the familiar coal-tar ink, the bottom half of the page was covered in splatters of blood—the ink of death. Levi’s breath caught in his throat as he tried not to tear at the sight. He wanted to look away, needed to bring his eyes away, but he couldn’t.

ㅤ

Flipping the next pages, it was all the same: empty. He knew what that meant.

ㅤ

You had long been dead, but he felt it was as if you had just died in his arms that night. “You too? How the fuck have you managed to reach so far inside my heart?”

ㅤ

The love you shared with him was liquid, not literally of course: you reminded him that sometimes you were a friend, sometimes a teacher, and sometimes, even a soulmate. Levi used to laugh at the idea of soulmates—a supernatural concept not intended for mortals. But when you bridged the gap between life and death, perhaps soulmates weren’t a silly thing after all.

ㅤ

You found solace in this diary, and he found himself in your memories. You kissed the words unto his lips and skin, and his heart always heard and understood.

ㅤ

a like & reblog would be appreciated <3

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reveluving · 2 years

Note

And this with tak

looking at your crush or lover only to find them already looking at you and when you make eye contact, they smile at you.

love again ; takeshi kovacs x reader

warnings: implied (post) smut + fluff

a/n: I'll never get over the 'broody person only soft for their love' dynamic aaand, this is a part of my upcoming Takeshi fic! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» from this prompt , come & check out my m.list!

'to reassure you that he didn't fight for his life this long and suddenly find you for nothing,' ;

You should've been wide awake when you realized how different the bed sheets felt. They were softer, extravagant even, like it belonged somewhere fancy. Initially, you thought nothing of it — long working hours were nothing new to you, so, passing out on wherever your aching body could rest on as soon as you'd reach home was common.

Now that you're gaining consciousness, however, you were too stunned to move.

Why?

Someone was in that bed with you, and that person wasn't just anybody.

Mustering up the courage to open your eyes, you were met with the room's gothic interior — the gloomy yet charming environment, the antique-looking furniture and the ever-changing neon lights shining from the frosted windows.

This wasn't your unit at all, although, you couldn't say you've never seen this place before. Hoping to remember what had happened, you tried to sit up, only to groan at the aches of your body, and this wasn't the usual aftermath from work, either.

You tried your best, though, raising your upper body further with your right arm.

Then, movements happened right beside you.

You didn't know whether to roll over on your back or skedaddle.

In midst of thinking, you noticed the little white cloth hanging by the nightstand — a pretty lace panties.

Your pretty lace panties.

Then, everything finally dawned on you.

Takeshi.

The reunion.

What you initially thought was a handsome stranger in your room, only to discover that it was actually your childhood best friend.

Your heart and soul.

Your long-lost love.

What started out as a wholesome reunion, only to escalate by how much you mean to him and vice versa with a night of passion.

High-pitched moans and deep groans rang in your head, prompting your skin to heat up at the mere remembrance of it.

You fiddled with the sheets, hoping this wasn't a dream or some sad imagination because you were missing him too much.

But, in the middle of your crisis came bashfulness.

Not only did you realize how bare you were, you basically did the thing with him, and details were coming in.

You weren't sure whether to giggle like a schoolgirl or scream because of how unreal everything seemed.

You yelped at the feeling of his calloused hand rubbing up and down the small of your back.

"You're awake," Considering how he naturally has a warm baritone voice, one could imagine how deeper his morning voice was. You had no doubt he noticed how you shivered at the sound of it, "I didn't tire you out too much, did I?"

You debated whether or not to turn around — your lack of response only had him tense.

"Hey," Takeshi began slowly, "You feelin' okay?"

He waited for your response. Funnily enough, if he was dealing with anyone else, he’d practically be a ticking time bomb. But, for you, he understood that this was a lot to take in.

Having to say goodbye each time you'd see one another.

Now, you're in the same room — in the same bed as him, and he's not willing to let you go. Not again.

You turned your head back ever-so-slowly, only to freeze up as soon as your eyes locked.

Oh, but there was more.

A smile.

Well, between smile and a smirk was more appropriate, since anytime his lips were upturned pretty much looked like a smug look on his face.

This one was small, but genuine, like the glint of adoration in his eyes.

Only for you.

It is him.

Feeling shyer than ever, you looked down but did nothing to cover up since he, too, was in his birthday suit. Your attempts didn't last, though, for he brought his hand up and gently cupped your chin. Tilting it enough so you'd get the idea to look at him. You nuzzled into his touch, unable to control the single tear rolling down your cheek when he wiped it off with his thumb.

"You're okay," His heart clenched at the sight — if he had the opportunity to change things for the better, he would. Maybe things would've been different, maybe you and him would've ended up together even before the shit with the CTAC and Envoys and whatnot, "You're okay,"

But, none that mattered anymore, now that he was actually by your side. To reassure you that he didn't fight for his life this long and suddenly find you for nothing.

There'll be plenty of time to mess around, introduce you to the people who he tolerated (but will never admit as a 'friend').

Later, though.

He pulled you in closer, silently comforting you as he felt the weight he's held on his shoulders for so long lifting now that he has finally found you.

Safe in his arms.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

#— reve's reverie 🌹#— reve's asks 🌹#takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs x f!reader #takeshi kovacs x you #takeshi kovacs smut #takeshi kovacs fluff #altered carbon #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman x reader

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mingiswow · 3 years

Text

Relax | Ahn Hyejin

Pairing: Hwasa x genderneutral!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Words: + 1.4k

Warnings: sub!hwasa, dom!reader, fingering (f), swearing, praising (hwasa), a little overstimulation, you call her baby a lot, not proofread,

⚠ If you’re under the age of 18 and/or don’t feel comfortable reading that type of content, I have a lot of other content here.

⚠ English is not my native language, so pardon me if there’s any mistake. And you can always tell me what’s wrong.

Request: Oh, my god. Can I just say your sub!hwasa fic was just so hot….. can I maybe request another one? Being a soft dom to hyejin after she comes home on a high after a performance?

The clock on the wall kept tick-tacking as you focused on your computer screen, finishing some details and retouches of the pictures you had to show your professor in the next class.

You were more than happy you had an all-rounder girlfriend, who gladly helped you in your project, being not only your muse, your inspiration, but your model as well. Ever since Hyejin entered your life a few years ago, everything changed, you never imagines that THE HWASA was going to fall for you, the clumsy intern that landed an internship at RBW and spilled coffee all over her in the first week.

To be really honest, everything about your relationship felt like a stupid cliche rom-com, from the way you met, how you became friends and were clueless about your feelings until some of your friends squared you two to talk about your feelings, your first kiss, your first time being intimate. Everything. What you didn’t expect was the first time she came to you and asked to dom her. It wasn’t something you expected but you didn’t deny it.

Hyejin was a very… interesting sub. She was compliant most of the time, behaving and doing as you say so. She rarely acted bratty, save for the occasions where she became jealous or felt like you were giving your college more of your attention than to her. Either way, you always got to make her enjoy herself.

You looked at the clock once again, 3 a.m., the time flew by but you managed to finish everything and send it to your professor. Hwasa was in a concert in town that much to yours and her sadness you couldn’t go - but you promised her you’d go the next day -, so she should be arriving in a few. So you decided to prepare some lavender and chamomile tea as well as a warm bubble bath for her, you had just bought this bath bomb that smelled like ylang ylang. Even though the concerts are always tiring and energy-draining, the first ones on a tour for your girlfriend were always the most exciting.

You had just finished melting the bath bomb and were playing with the bubbles when you heard her unmistakable singing voice. Yeah, she was definitely on a high from the adrenaline.

“Honey, I’m home” she sang, extending the “o” in home after she took her shoes and entered the house.

“On the bathroom”

She smiled widely looking at you and the bath, pulling you up for a kiss. “Is that all for me?” you nodded and kissed her lips again.

“I imagined you’d be high on adrenaline, so I prepared a relaxing bath and tea for you” she squeaked, her almost child-like persona always amazing you. “Take your clothes off and take a bath, I’ll grab your tea, ‘kay?” she nodded, already stripping out of her shirt.

You grabbed her favorite mug, a cute coral one that had matching drawings with yours, and served the tea, taking it back to the bathroom.

“You’re so good for me” she said as she heard your footsteps enter the place, eyes closed, neck resting comfortably on the little pillow you put, head thrown back, and a big smile on her face.

“I’m just doing what my perfect sweet girl deserves” Hwasa felt her cheeks burn at your words, the sweet pet names always putting her in a place of adoration and submission, she loved being your good girl, your sweet girl, your princess, your queen, she loved being yours with body and soul. “Take your tea and why don’t you tell me how was the concert”

Her eyes opened, hands grabbing the tea as she took a sip, enjoying the soft, sweet, and warm taste on her taste buds.

“It was great! The second nights are usually calmer because the first and the last ones are the fullers, which is funny because makes no sense-” she fired the words, excitement lacing her voice, even with all the downfalls of being an idol, she still loved to perform, to sing and inspire people.

As she spoke an idea popped into your mind. You slowly dipped your hand and arm in the water, searching for her tights and squeezing. A little squeak left her lips “keep talking, baby, I’m just helping you relax” Hyejin bit her lower lip, her eyes become instantly glossy, as you expected she was entering her sub space.

The singer went back talking as you massaged her tights, hand getting closer and closer to where she was starting to feel the heat rise. Instinctively she opened her legs, a smirk taking place on your lips. “S-so Byulie unnie went to perform her solo, it’s always good for- ahn, y/n” she lost her focus as soon as your fingers touched her clit.

“Keep going, baby girl. Be a good girl for me and tell me everything about today” with the other hand you grabbed her face, turning towards you and licking her lips. “Can you do that for me?” she nodded, lips searching for yours for a kiss, which you gladly complied, kissing her deeply, tongues dancing inside your mouths, breaths becoming more accelerated as you kissed and your fingers playing with her clit.

You two broke the kiss, Hwasa throwing her head back and taking a deep breath before speaking again, her voice as loud as a whisper, her mind becoming cloudy with arousal and pleasure. It was hard for her to properly form her words and sentences, she just wanted to enjoy your touch, but she knew if she didn’t finish you wouldn’t let her cum. And that was her priority.

“A-and… and… y/n I’m close, please, I… cum” the woman announced, her body, slipping into the bath, your fingers following the movement.

“But I’ve barely touched you, are you already going to cum?” she just nodded, eyes closed with pleasure, holding her orgasm the longest she could and your movements on the bud became faster. “Oh baby, you’re so sensitive. You can cum now” a rope of thank yous left her lips as she came, your fingers helping her ride her orgasm.

“y/n… please…”

“What is honey? Are you sensitive?” she nodded, the knot in her stomach building up again. “Can you take one more? Can you be a good girl and cum again for me?” she moaned, her honey voice being music to your ears. “Look at you, baby. Always so good for me, always taking what I give to you. I love you so much, my dear” her hands grabbed the edge of the bath, knuckles white from the strength.

You entered her pussy with two fingers, the water of the tub mixing with the wetness of her genital, a lewd sound filling the room. Hyejin moaned again. And again. And again. All she could do was moan as her walls clenched around your fingers while you pumped them in and out of her. “You pussy seems hungry, baby. Eating my fingers. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” She loved your praises, if there was something about the woman is that the more you praised her, the more she would melt into you, do whatever you told her to.

Her torso flew to the front, a deep whine leaving her lips as one of her hands grabbed your arm. “Are you gonna cum again? Go on them, cum on my fingers” like a button was pressed, her walls clenched hard, almost trapping your fingers in. You loved to see her fucked out like that, voice hoarse from the moans, chest rising and falling and heart beating fast with euphoria and adrenaline, eyes glossy and heavy, the sweat drops falling down her beautiful tan honey skin. More than that, you loved Hyejin.

When you noticed her high was coming down, you took your fingers out of her, the woman whining at the emptiness. You gently kissed her lips, savoring the taste of her grape lip balm mixed with the salty taste of her sweat. The kiss seemed to come from two different people if compared to the previous actions.

“I love you” your girlfriend spoke, lips curled in her beautiful smile.

“I love you too. Now let’s get you dry and go to bed” you lifted yourself up, earning a whine from her. “I know what you want but you have one more show tomorrow, I can’t fuck your voice out” you leaned down again, grabbing her chin and looking into her eyes “even tho I wanted to, my beautiful girl can’t have her voice ruined. Be brave for me and wait until tomorrow’s show is over, yeah?”

“Fuck! You have such a good way with your words” you chuckled at her pout when saying the sentence, helping her to dry herself and going to lay together in bed, her body pressed close to yours. You both drift asleep very fast, smile stuck on your lips.

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waithyuck · 4 years

Text

PUPPY

pairing: werewolf!lee jeno x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 4k

warnings: mature content, excessive explicit language, sexy times (meaning sexual content), I used the word ‘penis’ ONCE and only ONCE, mentions of a knot, knotting (I’m sorry), slight impreg kink, cumming inside, unprotected sex, blood, aggressive behavior, other stupid cliche werewolf things that are most definitely prob in hundreds of fics, jeno does NOT like being called a puppy even tho he’s called it oNCe

a/n: the first release of the dreamie halloweenie series! I hope this one sets the tone for what’s to come 👀 sorry to anyone who hates werewolf cliches and for the extreme lack of any substance or plot lmaoooo anyway I hope y’all enjoy reading

| next >

~10/10/2020~

~~~~

“are you cool with jeno staying the night?” your brother shot out, startling you as he spoke, not even looking at you as he spread too much peanut butter on a slice of bread nestled in his hand.

you looked up from where you were sitting at the kitchen table to face your brother, not saying anything in reply as you got lost in your thoughts.

jeno was an oddball. he was nice and he wasn’t creepy or even that weird, he just had his moments that were just well, odd. he was your brother’s friend of about six years; they met in their second year of high school and have been inseparable ever since. because of that, you have also been surrounded by jeno in all that time as well.

in the first couple years, you didn’t notice anything strange about him. he seemed like a normal and healthy young teenage boy. he was incredibly handsome, so of course your poor soul developed a small crush on him that only grew as the years progressed.

since you paid such close attention to him, you could pick out the oddities in his behavior occasionally pretty well. just from that, you’ve deducted that his sense of smell was almost god-like, like he could smell things that a normal person couldn’t.

now, you supposed that it wasn’t that weird that he had a good sniffer; there were probably tons of other people in the world with the same ability...but it wasn't just his sense of smell that had you curious.

sometimes he would act strangely at night; not often, but enough to have you questioning it. he would either disappear completely without a word or come up with a half-assed excuse to leave and then run away like a frightened animal.

it was just plain odd...and you couldn't get over it, no matter how much you tried to will yourself not to think about it.

snapping out of your stupor, you felt your heart jump at the thought of jeno coming over, even though he’s been here countless times, but you didn’t let it show and you shrugged your shoulders.

“it’s not like I have a choice in the matter,” you stated truthfully, looking down to pick at your nails. “you would have just said he was coming over anyway if I said no.”

your brother smiled at you, beaming as he placed the bread down and patted your head.

“you know me so well, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes, shoving him away. “yeah,” you retorted, slightly annoyed. “It’s not like you’re my brother, or anything.”

he didn't say anything further and you left him alone with his sandwich, getting up and making your way to your room where you could successfully hide for the rest of the night. before your cold make it far, you heard your brother yell something about jeno coming around 8, but you didn't say anything back and just minded your own business all the way upstairs to your room.

you pathetically holed yourself up in your dark room for about four hours, only coming out to quietly sneak to the bathroom and then you would go back into hiding once again.

even when you got word that there was pizza downstairs, you ignored it and continued to watch horror story narrations on youtube.

you just couldn't deal with being in the presence of your long time crush today. it took everything in your power to stop yourself from going downstairs and being potentially spotted, but you managed to pull through successfully and be a pathetic hermit in your room.

it was around 3 a.m. when you were finally finished with watching youtube videos, and you felt gross. you supposed that the two boys would be sound asleep by now, considering your brother never ever sacrificed his beauty sleep for anyone. you grabbed some clean clothes and gathered them in your arms before trudging tiredly to the bathroom, swinging open the door without a second thought, not realizing that the light was already on when you got there.

your heart almost jumped out of your chest as your eyes bulged out of their sockets.

“holy fuck!” you screeched as you took in the sight of jeno, in the middle of the bathroom completely naked, stroking his painfully hard cock right before your eyes. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the show and you accidentally discovered that there was something not right about the way it looked...

your mouth fell agape and you barely heard him gasp loudly before trying to cover himself with the closest towel.

“jesus christ, y/n!” he yelled back, both of you not even considering your sleeping brother that was just three rooms over.

your eyes stayed glued to where he was covering himself with the towel, still thinking about the oddity of his dick. it seemed to be swelling at the base, which was definitely not normal for a human penis to do.

“what the fuck is wrong with your dick?” you blurted out unapologetically, causing a blush to cover his entire face and neck. you tore your eyes from his covered crotch to look at his eyes, which were now a shocking shade of bright yellow. you jumped back, dropping your clothes on the floor as you watched him breath heavily, most likely trying to calm himself down the same as you.

“oh my god, what the actual fuck is happening?” you murmured out loud, your eyes wide and never leaving his own as he stood silently in front of you. “am i dreaming? am i fucking high?” you tried to reason out as to why you were seeing what you're seeing, but jeno didn't give you much time to think before he spoke.

“you’re not dreaming,” his voice came out low, almost like a growl, and you felt your heart freeze up. “I dunno if you’re high...but what you're seeing is as real as it gets.”

your mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping out of water, trying to formulate the words to say next. your brain literally couldn't think of anything except his abnormally large and weird dick.

“okay…” you trailed off, your hands coming up to rest over your racing heart. “so then I’ll ask again: what the fuck is up with your dick??” and then you quickly added, “and your eyes??? I'm so confused right now, jeno.”

he sighed heavily and turned around, giving you a full view of his ass before he gathered his clothes to get dressed and cover himself. you really should have looked away, but your eyes wouldn’t listen to your internal screaming no matter how hard you physically tried to stop staring.

when he pulled his shorts on he finally turned to face you once more, forgoing a shirt much to your dismay (but really, you were dying on the inside at the sight of his abs). he stared at you for a second, his eyes back to their natural deep brown color.

“...there's a lot we need to talk about.” was all he said before grabbing your wrist in his scorchingly warm hand and dragging you out of the bathroom and down to your room. you didn’t protest and you let him practically drag you all the way there, closing the door behind him and guiding you to plop down on your bed. jeno walked to the opposite side of the room, distancing himself from you as much as possible.

“um..so,” he started hesitantly, trying to form his words correctly. “I’m uh, I'm a werewolf.”

your eyes bulged out of your head in disbelief, but you didn't say anything in reply. you both stared at each other across the space of your bedroom, not uttering a single word.

at first you were ready to call him crazy; there was absolutely no way that it was true. but then you thought about his eyes, his sense of smell...and then thought about his cock...holy shit wait, was that a fucking knot??

“um, yeah, it was…” you heard him say suddenly. you jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to reply. did you say that out loud by accident?

“you did.”

okay fuck, you needed to stop thinking and pull yourself together. what were you supposed to say to that? ‘oh cool, your cock has a knot and you’re a fucking werewolf, that’s super, jeno!’

jeno went on to explain the ins and outs of being a werewolf to you over the next twenty minutes, the small pink blush on his cheeks never truly leaving as he went into detail about everything. he even corrected certain cliches that were not true, a scowl making its way to his features with each inaccuracy you brought up.

“so...my brother doesn’t know?” you questioned quietly, looking down at your lap.

“no one knows besides you and my family.” he confirmed, and you looked up again to see him lean against the wall behind his back, eyes gazing sharply at you.

you panicked slightly, thinking that holy crap, now that you know, he's gonna have to kill you so the secret doesn't get out.

“oh my god,” you whimpered out, “are you going to kill me now?”

you watched his eyes widen before he choked, coughing violently before composing himself. he straightened his posture, but still didn't make any move toward you, still keeping his distance.

“what?!” he practically shouted, startling you. “of course not! why would I do that??”

you felt your face grow hot and you looked away once again, wringing your hands together on your lap. you shrugged, murmuring quietly, “i dunno...I thought you'd kill me to keep the secret, well, you know, a secret…”

you heard him sigh exasperatedly before hearing his soft voice grace your ears from across the room.

“I don't kill people, y/n.” he sounded slightly sad, and you then felt bad about assuming something so terrible of him. “the only time I kill is when my instincts become too much to control, and I snap.” his head hung low, but he quickly added. “but I’ve never actually killed a person, even if my instincts were screaming at me to.”

you tried to wrap your mind around what his wolf instincts were like; he only briefly touched on that topic earlier, seeming like he didn't want to talk about it too much. you being yourself, of course you had to pry.

“so like, what you’re saying is,” you started, your hand cupping your chin in thought as you pondered over your thoughts. “that if you were to like, hypothetically, snap right now and go all feral, you would want to kill me?” the question came out inflected as a statement, but you nonetheless awaited his answer patiently as you took in the sight of his face going through about five different emotions in the short span of a couple seconds.

“I don’t think…” he trailed off, looking down at the floor while clenching his fists. “I don’t think killing you would be my first instinct,” he looked up at you, his eyes blazing a slight yellow again as he seemingly stared into your soul. “...if you catch my drift.”

at first you were completely confused, not sure what other instincts he could express while being feral, but then it all clicked and it had your body heating up at the thought.

“oh.” you simply retorted, your eyes glazing over at the implication of him pinning you down and taking you as he pleased. “oh, fuck. you’re fuckin’ serious?”

his eyes were dark as he drank you in, his nostrils flaring slightly as he subtly sniffed the air between the both of you. dear god, you hoped that he couldn’t smell the sudden arousal that consumed you. you watched his eyes glow into a bright yellow and you felt your instincts screaming at you to run, but you held his gaze as he let a low growl escape his mouth.

“y/n,” he said, low and strained as he tried to fight his animal instincts. “you need to leave if you don’t want this, right now.” his words were final, no room for questioning.

you briefly tried to think it over; what would actually happen if you stayed and let him have you? you could probably die, first and foremost, but you shook that thought away even though it was a very real and serious possibility. you couldn’t deny your arousal at the whole thing, being taken like a bitch in heat by a guy you’ve been thirsting over for a while now. you may not get the chance to fuck a werewolf again, so you quickly made your decision.

“I’m…” you trailed off, dragging your gaze down to his neck and collarbones where you could make out the sweat forming on his perfect skin. “I’m staying, jeno.” you spoke softly to him, watching his brow furrow in confusion before smoothing out again.

you made your way to him and he stiffened up, watching your every move like a predator as you tentatively stopped in front of his panting form. reaching a hand up, you caressed his face, your breathing shaky as you leaned in closer.

“you can have me, puppy.” you threw in the last little jab with that sudden nickname just for fun, your heart soaring at the sound of the deep growl he let out upon hearing it. you fought the smile off your face as he practically pounced on you, pushing you over to the bed and pinning your body underneath his in one swift movement.

“I’m a puppy, huh?” he questioned darkly, his glowing eyes roaming over your face before his head dipped down to nose at your throat. you whimpered softly as his teeth nibbled on your sensitive skin, earning a satisfied growl from him.

you felt your shorts stick to your core from how insanely soaked you had become, and you grew hot at the idea of him pulling them down to find that you were, in fact, pantieless. he had your wrists pinned down against the mattress, not allowing you to touch him much to your annoyance. you tried to struggle against his supernaturally strong hold, but was met with a deep snarl in response. you immediately grew pliant underneath him out of pure instinct.

he pulled back, sharp canines prominent in his mouth as he fixed you with his glowing stare, red swirling with yellow in his bright irises.

“don’t fucking move,” he spat, his voice coming out low and gutteral, causing a flood of your own arousal to escape you down below. his nostrils flared for the second time that night, and he breathed in deeply at the scent of your wet and begging cunt. “be a good girl and take what I give you.”

the statement was final, and you barely had time to nod before he was tearing your t-shirt in two, biting the skin of your shoulder. his sharper teeth did not sink deep into your flesh, but when he drug the canines across your skin, you felt them rip you open. you let out what could be considered a poorly concealed scream, but it came forth as more of a moan as you felt hot blood trickle down your arm.

your shirt was in ribbons, and he looked extremely pleased as he took in the beautiful sight of your naked breasts, no bra in his way. he watched as your chest heaved up and down in anticipation, and he released your wrist to gently trail both of his hand over your body.

“your tits are so pretty,” he murmured, diving down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. he worked your other boob with one of his hands, kneading it and flicking your sensitive nipple.

your back arched into his touch, and you tried your best to stay as quiet as possible in fear of your brother hearing you.

he suckled hard; nibbling your nipple and dragging his teeth along it, causing shivers to run up your spine and your core to clench around nothing. your shorts were without a doubt ruined at this point.

your nails scratched down his back and he continued to ravage your chest, alternating between both of your breasts and teasing your sensitive buds with no remorse. it felt like hours of play, but eventually he pulled back to roughly grip the fabric of your shorts and tear them down your legs, exposing your dripping core to his hungry eyes.

you whined as he stared at you, reaching your arms out towards his own pants, wanting to see his cock again now that you were laying there, desperate and pouting for it.

his eyes shot to your face, smirking as he watched your brow furrow and your lips purse, your hands trying to grab at him from your place on the bed.

he didn’t allow you to pull his shorts down for him; instead he hooked his own thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down slowly, exposing his cock inch by inch before it finally sprung out, slapping against his stomach proudly.

your mouth watered at the sight of him once again and you moved to try to sit up, but didn’t get very far. he grasped your non-bleeding shoulder and roughly shoved you against the mattress once again, not saying anything. the stare he gave you oozed enough dominance for you to clearly get the message that he was trying to send.

jeno didn’t waste any time spreading your thighs open, two of his fingers immediately swiping through your embarrassingly wet slit before easing inside your tight hole. the stretch burned at first, considering he was starting you off with two fingers instead of one, but you welcomed the slight pain that mixed with the pleasure of him reaching up with his thumb to graze over your throbbing clit.

jeno thrusted his fingers into you gently at first, gradually picking up the pace as he went along. before you knew it he was adding a third finger, stretching your more than you’ve been stretched before.

you gasped at the feeling, your back arching off the bed as you cried out while he started finger fucking you with earnest.

“shhh, baby,” he said quietly, his movements never ceasing. “just gotta open you up for me, make sure you can take my knot.”

you held back another moan at that, thinking of how his cock would stretch you open, and how full you would feel with his knot nestled inside you.

he abruptly pulled his fingers from you, causing your back to arch again as you protested the loss of stimulation. his strength amazed you, and with one hand on your belly he pinned you down completely, sucking on the fingers of his other lewdly while stating you in the eyes.

after licking his fingers clean, (which caused heat to crawl it’s way down your belly), he kissed you sloppily on the mouth once again before gripping your waist and roughly flipping you over onto your knees.

your chest was flush against the mattress as well as your face, and your hips were lifted high in the air and you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he positioned himself behind you.

his nails drug down your sides and he gripped one of your hips with his hand, using his other to position himself at your leaking entrance. you wiggled your hips in anticipation, whining as he drug the head through your folds before slowly sinking inside you.

your fingers gripped the pillows as he bottomed out, his knot already slowly forming at the base of his shaft. it stretched you ever so slightly at the entrance of your core, and you whimpered out in pleasure as he started thrusting in and out.

the small form of his knot caught on your entrance with each precise thrust, and you were finding it very difficult to stay quiet. jeno’s breaths were heavy and every so often he would let out a soft growl as he felt his tip pound gently into your cervix.

your small whimpers were short and staggered, escaping your mouth with each thrust, which spurred him on to create a faster and harsher pace. he leaned over your back and didn’t relent as his cock punished you pussy, and when you let out a cry that was just a little bit too loud, he shoved your face right into your pillow to silence you.

“shut up,” he panted, a rumble low in his chest following his words. “just fucking take it.”

you nodded your head in response to the best of your ability, biting your lip to keep quiet as the presence of his hand left the back of your head.

he seemed to be getting close now, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge as well. it was uncommon for you to cum without any clitoral stimulation, and you were amazed at his ability to reach all of the most pleasurable spots inside you.

you felt your stomach tightening up and you gasped sharply when you felt his cock press right against your sweet spot, making you reach your high almost instantly.

you clamped around him, barely registering that he buried himself completely inside you and was now stretching you to the max with his fully developed knot. the pain of the stretch only intensified your orgasm, which had you screaming into your pillow to muffle your cries of ecstasy.

jeno growled loudly as he came shortly after, biting the back of your neck aggressively and painting your walls with his cum, emptying completely inside of you while his knot kept a single drop from escaping.

he withdrew his teeth from you, surprised that it didn’t break your skin, and gently moved the two of you to lay on your sides as you basked in the afterglow of what just occurred.

your chest heaved as you fought to catch you breath, you pussy still stretched to its limit as you laid with him. you reached an arm around to caress his face, a small show of affection as you smiled in bliss.

after catching your breath, you sat in silence for a bit, just bathing in each other’s warmth, before you had to go and open your big mouth again.

“so your knot is supposed to like, plug me up?” you questioned, your voice still sounding slightly out of breath as you panted. “to make sure I get like, hypothetically, pregnant or whatever?”

he groaned in response and gripped your hips tightly, his hips bucking and causing his still painfully hard cock to sharply jab against your sensitive insides, making you yelp.

“dear god, y/n,” he whined, his nails digging into your skin. “don’t say things like that, fuck.”

“oh, so you like that idea?” you teased, turning your head to try to look at him to the best of your ability considering your current position. “fucking me full of babies?”

his eyes stared down at you intensely, the color of his irises brightening up as he growled lowly at you. he suddenly gripped your hips and turned you both over, his body completely laying on your own as you were pressed against the mattress on your stomach.

“keep talking, y/n,” he growled out lowly, his hips pressing tightly against your ass, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. “I’ll fuck you again right now, and give you my fucking babies.”

he couldn’t see you, but you smiled contently, preparing yourself for another intense round with this beast of a man. there was a small chance that you would actually get pregnant, considering the IUD you had…but the thought of it had you ready to go at it again.

in some fucked up way, you were content with this, and you threw your hips up to grind back against him, grinning even wider as he pinned your body down even harder.

jeno fucked you like an animal until the sun came up, and your brother was none the wiser.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #halloweenie special

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shadowworks · 4 years

Text

Look Inside

Pairing: Overhaul X Reader

Warnings: Dubcon-noncon, medical kink, drugged sex, mention of needles, mentions of blood, bondage, fingering, this is dark!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I decided to try some creepy themes and give second person a try. So we’ll see how it goes. This piece is dark so please mind the warnings!

Huge shoutout to @present-mel for making the beautiful banner and reading over my fic you precious gem! Also thank you @thisisthehardestthing and @hisoknen for your feedback it’s so greatly appreciated! 💜

Someone had shut off the lights in the morgue.

You happen to notice this when your eyes toil lazily between security cameras at the right time. You freeze on the spot, and quirk a brow toward the shadow. You expect it’ll brighten any second like it usually does, but after those few seconds tick by without change, a weight of dread sinks in your stomach.

Kai Chisaki put orders in place that if experiments are up and running the basement levels are to remain lit. Chisaki and his men are already down below, and the winding pale halls near the morgue are empty.

You haven’t been called to notify cleaners about another bloody corpse still peeling off the wall, and you can’t find motion on the surveillance camera when you rewind the recordings. It’s in the lower right corner of the camera, and you note the light flicks off without warning. No one enters, no one leaves.

You study the harsh glow of the screen for another moment, still in denial, still waiting for the lights to flicker on, and stand up from the chair in the office. When not a soul appears by the threshold, all you can do is lean forward with your hands pressed on the desk, dropping your head in defeat. “Seriously? Fuck you.”

You don’t know who “you” was exactly, but it felt right to say.

It takes a bit of time after departing the small office, but you find the proper hall in Chisaki’s deeply looping maze...It’s just you don’t want to step out from the elevator. You were ready before, but when the doors split open and the cool air ghosts against your cheeks, you pause. There’s a stillness lingering in the hallway; it’s far too quiet- except for the creaks in the elevator floor from your shifting weight...But, something seems off.

Your steps are tentative when you do slip out, peering down the drab hallway. You clearly see which of the rooms is buried in shadow, and frankly you want to whirl back around before the doors close. But you can’t, well, not yet at least. The tap of your shoes hits off the walls, while you tread along on stiff legs. Eventually you come to a stop having reached the doorway. It’s partly open, a slice of darkness hiding what’s deep inside.

Hold on, this can't be right. The camera— A shudder trails up your spine. It tingles coldly.

You inhale a deep breath. Okay, just do it; just switch the lights back on, it’s fine. It’s fine. Besides, if it were you (which it is) you wouldn’t want to deal with Chisaki’s ill temper over something so minor as a light.

He’s punished his men for incompetence before, and those who didn’t listen have smeared the walls with their blood, drenching vein red across white. Black-looking goops of muscle plopped on the floor...the consequences ranged based on severity of failure or how stressed he is, really. In fact, one man had the skin of his face torn off for talking back—wait, relax. Focus

It won’t happen. Kai Chisaki is somewhere else in the maze. He’s not aware of what happened.

There’s a member with a quirk which lets him melt through walls; the tiny one with a bone white mask. He probably slipped between the rooms and grabbed something then turned the lights off. But that didn’t explain the door...

It doesn’t matter.

You stretch an arm out, gently pushing the door further open, and light spills onto the tile floor.

It’s a cold, vacant room. There’s a pungent scent of bleach still lingering from a cleanup, but it hits your nose almost like it happened recently. You can’t see much nor do you want to. And your hand reaches around the door frame, trailing gentle fingers along the smooth surface for a switch—

Only, there’s nothing on the wall.

“Are you serious? Really?” you huff to yourself, stepping round to search for the light. Sure enough, your fears are realized with one look.

You let out an annoyed groan, and a, ‘stupid switch’ under your breath. Who the hell designs a room and doesn’t put a switch by the door?

Your eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark, so you can’t see the precise details on the walls. So this leaves you no choice but to step further in, allowing the brightness from the hall to guide you along.

It’s a moderate room with a vaulted wall filled with metal drawers, all large enough to fit an icy corpse in ‘til the yakuza dispose of them. Then there’s the silver surgical table in the middle of the room. It's empty, but the thing’s embellished. There’s protruding belts attached, and a tray on wheels is parked on the side. On top of the tray is a clean towel and a neat row of surgical tools lay flat across.

Your brows scrunch together, studying the sharp gleam of knives and the sizes of needles. Why are these out? Kai’s an obsessive clean freak, every little thing needs to be put back and organized. All his masked cronies know this rule, so who the hell did this? That is, unless someone’s using them?

Your back is turned to the glow seeping in from the hall, so you don’t see a gloved hand press on the metal door. There’s a push, and the door slams shut.

You let out a startled yelp, cupping your hands to your mouth. What the hell…! Your heart’s pounding wildly in your chest; for some reason the room feels colder, you feel colder.

“I must say this is disappointing.”

Light floods the room from the panels above, flickering with a buzzing noise before they settle. You take a moment. A deep breath, a slow exhale. When the initial shock stops tingling in your muscles, you slowly drop your palms. The voice is male, his tone’s calm, ominous and it carries like chill over your shoulder. You know this voice; you know you have to turn around. But fuck, you can’t stop trembling. When you do, you see a tall figure looming near the wall, a gloved hand still on the switch.

Kai Chisaki.

“I told Setsuno I needed him in the security room. Do you think it’s hard for him to follow directions?”

You stare at him, anxiously. He isn’t wearing his green coat with the violet plumage trimming on the collar. He’s in his iron pressed, black suit and grey tie; the trademark plague mask covering half his face.

“Setsuno asked me to fill in. He said he wasn’t feeling well...I guess,” you manage to say it as steady as you can.

The lanky blond hadn’t given you a clear reason when he staggered towards you near dawn. But if you’re being honest, you didn’t really care.You barely looked his way at breakfast, choosing to stare into your dark coffee cup than at the katana resting on his shoulder. The sword was still wet with blood, and you knew he’d been out all night. Though right now, you sorta wish you pressed him more for details.

Kai mutters something slightly bitter, words that are muffled against the material of his mask. But you hear him sigh, then his tone turns crisper. “No matter. It’s inconvenient, but I can work around these...changes.”

His arm drops to his side, walking from the wall. And unexpectedly- those peculiar eyes you see leering at his enemies, have now fallen on you.

You seize up in mild panic, the pupils in your eyes shrinking; not knowing what to do. You take a scuffling step or two back on reflex—and knock your hip against the table corner.

Oww—ow, fuck. Hold on, what’s he doing? Why—Your voice bubbles in your throat as you watch him draw near. Though it’s strange, for Kai doesn’t pull at the rim of his latex glove like expected, rather, the Shie Hassaikai boss happens to steer past you instead.

...Huh?

Your neck cranes, loose hair spilling over your shoulder. He stops a couple feet away and tilts his head downward in front of the tray, no longer regarding your presence and focusing on his work.

You stand there awkwardly, just listening to the clinks of metal fitting together in Kai’s grip. You’re not fully understanding though, should you leave? It looks like your job’s finished now that your boss is here. Besides, you’re pretty confident Kai doesn't want you here if he’s occupying the room.

In the long pause between you two, your mind’s made up which prompts you to retreat back and aim towards the door. They’re slow, careful moving steps.

“Well, you seem busy...I should probably hurry back and watch the cameras,'' you say dismissing yourself. You’re partial toward the comfort of the smaller office, and any chance you have of leaving the macabre storage space you will eagerly take it.

You don’t make it to the gleaming doorknob—because Kai’s voice holds you still. It isn’t loud, but it grips the room. “No stay. There’s no need for you to leave so soon.”

A mix of fear and confusion read across your features. Kai has never spent a moment alone with you. In fact, you aren’t actually part of the yakuza. The only reason you’re associated with the fallen crime syndicate, is because the former boss offered you odd jobs as a favor. You needed some work to keep from struggling and he had taken a liking to you, sort of how he did with Kai. But then, the leader collapsed.

Now you aren't sure where you stand. Chisaki is in charge.

“I believe there’s something you can do for me. Will you have a seat on the table?”

You aren’t sure if you heard him right, or fully grasp what he means. He says it so casually- but you know better; it’s a demand. You’re just not sure why.

“I’m fine. Really. I should be going-“

“Are you defying my order?” Again, he says it so nonchalantly. This time Kai turns his head over his shoulder; the look he gives is almost impassive, yet there’s a menacing gleam in the yellow of his eyes.

“What? No, I was…! Right.”

You don’t exactly drag your feet, but you do stand hesitant before the edge of the table where countless bodies have been dissected. So much blood, so many organs harvested on this very table.

“I won’t ask you again.”

You turn around robotically, eyes pointed downward as you hoist your hips onto the metal. The table’s surface is icy, it numbs your fingers the longer you lean on it, which only makes you fold them against your thighs.

“Roll up your sleeve.” Kai says by your right, holding up a purple band. Your gaze flicks up immediately, nervously, a silent plea for mercy. As if somehow your glossy and delicate eyes will make a difference. But it does nothing toward Kai’s stoic stance. He simply waits, and his own steely eyes narrow back.

You drop your head with a wince; just do as he says.

You comply, pushing up your long sleeve. Though you make a point not to help much more than that, leaving your arm limp at your side.

Kai doesn’t seem to notice or care and proceeds to wrap the rubber around your arm. You grimace, unpleased as his fingers skim your arm, and again when he brushes you with a wet cotton swab.

“You need my blood?” You ask evenly.

His eyes don’t leave your skin, “Not necessarily.”

“A lot of effort for, ‘not necessarily.’” You say, not too dryly.

“You’ve seen my work before, you should know by now I take great care in everything I do.”

Kai rotates between you and the now rolled over stand, dismissing your light jab. He sets up the port for blood to flow; all in a well practiced motion. It certainly makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before.

“I’m curious, when was your last doctor's appointment?” He asks suddenly, hands already prepping the next instrument. The other needle probably, but you don’t want to play as his patient. He isn’t your doctor, for fucks sake.

“A while.” You answer.

“A while,” he repeats with a subtle chuckle under his covered breath,“Has anyone told you before you’re a feisty one?”

You bite your tongue and refuse to meet his side glance. When you don’t reply back, he carries on with a sigh.

“I’ve had quite a long day you see, so I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my tolerance for stubborn little girls.”

Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder, and all too quickly you find yourself thumping against the cold metal, your horrified eyes staring up at the bright ceiling. The next thing you feel is buckles fastening, pinning you against the table by your waist and elbows.

You're flooded with tingling panic, voice cracking from strain, “Hol—Hold on one second. Please, just one more—”

“—You know they say you should never let the lamb see the knife? Their fear tampers the meat, and ruins the flavor,” Kai gives a sharp tug on the last belt. “But I find yours all the more intoxicating, my dear.”

You stammer, words of protest mingle together as you attempt to be heard, “I don’t understand, why are you…Just stop. You need to let me go!”

Your teeth clench together in a rage that fills your chest. You’re not thinking rationally, your nerves are unhinged. And in your adrenaline high your leg curls up, thrashing a viciously blunt strike toward the point of his beak.

Before it can connect and batter the bridge of his nose and mark his cheekbones, Kai’s arm flexes quickly. Your foot stops mid air as he catches your ankle with constricting force.

“Do I?” He asks with a title of his head, there're subtle creases in the corner of eyes, you can imagine his mouth settles in a cold smile beneath.

In that moment you freeze up. Your lash lines burn, stinging with fresh tears glossing your doe eyes. You don’t breathe, you don’t dare to expand your lungs. Your only thought is begging him not to burst open your calf.

“You shouldn’t be giving commands. You work under me now,” his nails dig in your flesh, and you know those indents will marr your flesh.“Meaning you’ll have to bear with me while I continue.”

Kai doesn’t loosen his hold, briefly watching your pained expression. But he favors dropping his gaze below to study the stretch of your thigh, your exposed and parted groin. It’s then his nimble fingers reach to unclasp the button of your jeans and he gently pulls down the zipper. You cry out, jerking against the belts, but he isn’t fazed.

“One of our new drugs is supposed to relax its victims...recently it’s been ineffective if the heartbeat’s racing too quickly, though we’ve made modifications to counter this. My plan was to stage a fight with Setsuno, until...you graciously took his place.”

Kai lowers your leg, both hands roaming across to the edge of your jeans. He still studies you, and decides to push up your ribbed sweater, letting the cold bite of the morgue chill your hips. His latex fingers trace lightly across your pebbled skin, skimming down the dips to your thighs.

“Yes, this will do just fine. You’re pretty enough,” he muses, softly.

He then tucks his hands into your waistband, yanking them down your legs, before they fall to the floor with a plop. The seamless panties slip off easily, as well. This sends a small prickle through you, and, no, this can’t keep going! The fight in you surges, pushing your knees together to shield your groin. Only Kai doesn’t like that.

There’s something cold and dangerous in his glare, a threat that twists at your stomach. He’s warning you; don’t make this worse for yourself or you’ll make him snap. And you didn’t want that...You watch both his hands clutch your knees, he doesn’t waste time and he yanks your legs apart, taking in your pretty cunt.

Angry tears trickle down your cheeks in response. Your throat burns from holding back a sob, “Chisaki, please. If you would—“

Without a moment of hesitation, Kai knowingly finds where to touch you first. A little too skillfully for a false doctor, the pad of his thumb presses against your soft, sensitive nub, stroking tight circles with focus. Your breath catches, falling heavier while he sinks his pad deeper in the forming slick, building steady pressure.

“Still so stubborn, what good will that bring you?”

A broken moan spills on your shaky breath, all against your better decisions. His other hand settles between your legs, and a finger plunges inside your heat, curling upward and massaging the rougher layer of flesh. A sharp gasp inhales into your lungs. He isn’t stopping, no, Kai’s gloved finger moves with vigor the more your pleasurably laced cries pour out from your lips, how desperate they become.

He pushes in a second finger, and then a third thrusting in, stretching you and soaking your walls with your arousal. This causes you to push your hips further against his latex hand.

“Kai, you fucking bastard!” you sob out, formalities be damned as your back arches. You can feel the building pulses in your cunt tense up, losing yourself to your superior on an icy slab in a fucking morgue.

“You curse my name as though you’re not enjoying this,” Kai mocks.

His fingers pump deeper, tightening your abs and your lips fall open. His matching rhythm on the bundle of nerves surges in a crash, sending a hard orgasm that shivers through your body. For a moment, just a little moment, your cares fade away.

You're left breathing deeply, staring up at the ceiling as your chest rises and falls. The euphoria lasts a moment longer, but only for so long. Reality sets in as you lay there, and much too soon, the warmths gone.

Kai takes advantage of this.

With your chin tipped up toward cabinets lining the ceiling, Kai unfastens his thinner belt. It’s only when you feel him hook under your knees and pull at your thighs that you snap your head up in startlement.

Kai’s venomous eyes stare you down, “I suggest laying back down little girl, we’re not finished yet.”

“Like hell!”

A second flare of rage strickens across your features, a hard glare that doesn’t unyield, especially as he unzips and withdraws himself from formal slacks. You know he’s relishing in your disdain for him, and this makes you thrash on the belts, hoping to force them apart. Of course, Kai did a good job of fastening these fuckers and simply chuckles at your attempt.

“You’re still not understanding the position that you’re in,” He slips a hand in his pocket, and pulls out the wrapping of a condom. Taking his time, tearing it open, rolling the rubber down his thick length with precision.

When Kai’s satisfied, his arms reach for you and grab at your hips, giving them a sharp yank forward. He leans in with a darkly low voice, “You can’t escape me. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

“...You lean any closer and I’ll spit in your face.” There isn’t any bite to it. It’s a calm, empty threat and loses all its appeal as a single tear spills down your cheekbone.

A huffing noise emits from his mask, with his lids narrowing in mild disgust. You catch the words “filthy woman,” rasped low and nasally before he does lean back, wrenching at the skin around your hips.

When he’s all settled Kai lines himself to your heat, in a slow motion he draws himself inside. You almost don't hear it, but from the mask you note a soft hitch in his breath. He gives shallow pushes and pulls on your hips, an experimental dip that splits you in a painful stretch before he pumps fully into you. They’re slow, long strokes, filling you to the brim.

Another strained gasp rips from your wet lips, and your hands impulsively spring out, clenching the black cloth of Kai’s sleeves. His hips snap quicker, and your breath picks up with him. Heart pounding to his thrust; you can feel the beats in your neck.

And all of a sudden you hear the sound of plastic clasping together, the squeeze of an injection clip the shell of your ear. Your eyes snap open in horror. What—?

Kai locks on your facial features, his deep pumps lessen though the slapping of skin doesn’t stop. “You’ve been too tense. Why don’t you relax for awhile?”

When did he..?

He prepped it. The syringe must’ve been tucked away. He did have this all planned. You were just the unlucky one who walked to the table and sealed your fate.

The serum he injected into your bloodstream has fast results it seems. The tension in your muscles slack against his thrusts, allowing him to carry your body closer and take more of his length. You feel the tension in your wide eyes soften, slowly falling half lidded and weak.

“That’s a good girl, you're taking to the drug faster than I thought,” he muses a little breathless. Right after he sets the syringe back down, a gloved hand reaches for the strap fastened around his head and pulls. The mask slips off.

It’s at this point he hikes his knees up onto the table and pounds in deeper, letting your walls suck him in. Your body’s folded, and Kai treats your body in any way he desires.

You manage to pull your head from his sharp eyes, your cheek bouncing slightly against the icy metal to Kai’s rhythm. The drawers for the deceased are taken in.

You stare intently.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No.” He manages between breathes, his voice is heavy and laced with lusting growls, “This is merely a precaution. In the event...ah, in the event you overdose...well. You’re in the right place.”

Your head lolls back to Kai meeting his delicate face which is now flushed. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him behind the mask. He’s beautiful. Soft featues that compliment him so well. If only he wasn’t so cruel...

“In fact, hah, if you survive...I think this will be the start of something new in my work.” He manages the last bit with a shaky chuckle.

You see him smirk wickedly, and all you can do is watch, because it doesn’t stop. The only sound in the room is the liquid squish of sex, your mixed heavy breaths. And you hope, god do you hope in your hazy state, feeling a numbness taking hold of your body, that you leave this room alive.

#overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #yandere #kai chisaki #tw noncon #tw dubcon #overhaul #bnha #shadow tales

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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Note

if you’re taking prompts;

so; tony is the devil. Or hades? Although hades isn’t technically “evil” so idk. And peter’s very literally made a deal with the devil. Only he couldn’t keep up with his end of the deal and now his soul he belongs to tony. aND THEN, tony kinda likes pities him and it turns into a beauty and the beast sorta thing where tony has his undead servants make feasts n all that sorta stuff so peter feels comfortable. And then they fall in love. And then they screw 😌

Thank you for this because I've been looking for an excuse to write a Hades and Persephone story. This ended up so tender and romantic that you can't call it smut. These beeches be making love. Also this ended up full fic sized so here's the details.

Eat the Fruit

Summary: When Peter's lover dies in an accident, he offers his soul to the God of the Underworld to save him, but when he is unable to fulfill his end of the deal he finds himself in the Underworld. Now Peter is left tending to the pomegranate grove where the only balm for his loneliness is Hades (aka Tony), a god with a prickly edge.

Rating: Explicit

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed with gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

You must love him to offer your soul to me this way.

Please, you are lord of the dead. If anyone has this power, it's you.

I am not cruel, Peter. I will restore your lover's soul. In return, you must stay with him in life until he dies a natural death.

I promise.

So be it.

----------

The agony of heartbreak still echoed in his mind. His mind replayed the moment as Harry told him goodbye and turned away, closing the door as he went. He wished he could try again. Despite how he had pleaded with Harry not to leave, had promised him whatever he wished, he felt that maybe there was something he could have done. Harry did not love him anymore. He left him.

And so Peter fainted... and he awoke in a vast orchard.

He sat up in the grass and looked around at the low trees each baring heavy red fruit. Pomegranates. They looked beautiful, delicious. Peter stood and brushed himself off. He looked around feeling unsure how he had gotten here. Then he remembered and a sob escaped him. Not only had he lost the love of his life, he had broken his deal with Hades. This beautiful grove must have been a part of the Underworld.

"So soon," said a voice. Peter turned to catch sight of a man. He was handsome, a bit older than Peter, with wrinkles around his eyes, yet those eyes shined with livelihood. When he last saw Hades it had been a shadow of his true form, something massive and hulking and terrible. He seemed almost kind now. He had been kind enough to him then.

"Please, Lord Hades, send me back. Let me try again."

The god plucked a fruit from a tree and examined it. "Sorry, kid. That was a one time offer. No take backs." He looked Peter over, then he placed the pomegranate in his hands. He walked past him and Peter followed along, afraid to be left alone in such a place.

"Please. I'll give you anything. Lord Hades-"

The god huffed and turned on the spot. He held up a finger. "First of all, there's no need to call me that. Hades is more of a title and I'm over it. Call me Tony."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Tony. Now, listen up because I've got a short temper." Tony looked him in the eye. His hand held Peter's chin. "You will never leave the Underworld. Do you understand? Your soul belongs to me. You belong to me. This is where you will stay. Forever."

"Forever," Peter repeated. Not a question, but a realization. He had given everything for Harry. Everything.

The god took hold of his arm and turned him to look across the orchard. "Do you see the river there? You are never to attempt to cross it. If you try, its current will drag you under and you will drown in its waters until I see fit to retrieve you. The river Styx will not allow a soul to leave so easily."

Tony patted his shoulder. "Got it?"

Peter nodded. "I get it. Don't cross the river." It sure didn't sound fun to drown in a river until this oddly blase god decided to have mercy on him. "What happens now?"

Tony shrugged. "Tend the orchard or something. What do I care?"

Peter looked at him like he had grown a second head, which maybe he did have two heads, this probably wasn't his true form. "You let me sell my soul to you so I could just hang out?"

Tony's face shifted and Peter shrank back. His sudden anger was sharp and cold like a dagger made of ice. He encroached on Peter's space and with a clenched jaw he tried not to back away further. "Listen up, kid. You made the deal you wanted to make. You wanted to sacrifice yourself for what your heart desired and I gave you the opportunity. Life isn't the fairy tale you thought it was. Now, tend the trees and keep out of my hair."

Peter watched him go. He stared off in the direction that he went a while longer. Then cold began to seep into his bones. He sat down under a pomegranate tree. He wrapped his arms around his legs. Then he cried, wet tears staining the clothes he had died in. It could have been a lifetime that he cried, but when he finally got up he was numb.

Harry was gone and his life was over, but there was no going back. Peter turned in a circle, looking at the orchard. It was beautiful. If he had to spend the rest of eternity here it certainly wasn't the worst place to be. Sometimes when a breeze kicked up, he thought he heard screaming off in the direction he had decided to call south. There were certainly worse places to be even in the Underworld.

Peter walked to the edge of the pomegranate grove. Several feet from the edge, the ground began to slope down until it reached the edge of the Styx. A boat floated along the water. A man with a scraggly goatee and messy, curly, hair rowed along while a woman with red rimmed eyes sat in the seat. When she looked up, she looked right through him as if he were glass. A chill went through him. Once the feeling passed, he tried to wave at her, but she didn't respond. Was she in shock? Did she know yet that she was dead? Where was she being taken, he wondered. He hoped it was somewhere nice like his pomegranate grove and not the place where the screaming came from.

He kept walking, following the tree line, never passing the trees on the very edge. The orchard was vast, but not endless. On one side was the river Styx. On the next, the river Lethe. Or he assumed it was as the mist that came off of it made his head feel hazy. When he reached the third side is when the screaming grew louder. He walked faster until it grew distant again.

The fourth edge of the orchard stretched on into a garden. Peter stopped himself at the edge of the trees. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave the orchard or not. He hadn't been explicitly told not to. So he did.

He followed along low hedges and passed through clusters of hydrangea. Then the ground began to change from grass and plant life to cold gray stone. Peter looked back at the garden and the orchard beyond it. Was this allowed? He couldn't tend the trees without any tools. He'd need baskets if he were to collect the fruit and if they got sick he'd need medicines. He wasn't sure what else one could possibly do for trees. Perhaps Tony could tell him.

He found the god in question sitting a top a throne of slate. He looked far larger than he had before, but he still took the same form. He seemed bored, or perhaps indifferent was the word, as souls lined up at his feet. One soul grovelled on his knees.

"Please, my lord. I am meant for Elysium. I was a good man in life. An excellent one. I always gave to charity, I swear!"

Hades, for that's what he was a top this throne, waved his hand. "That does not make you special nor important by any means. You are not exceptional by any measure. To the fields with you." He snapped his fingers and two souls, each with hollow, black eyes and wrists wrapped in cuffs of slate, came forward and dragged the pleading soul away.

Another stepped forward and their plea was the same. They wished for Elysium and Hades waved them off.

"Won't you even listen to their stories?" Peter asked.

The god looked down at him. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was meant to do."

"The trees will tell you when they need," he said, but Peter noticed that he did not wave him away as he did the pleading soul so he assumed he was allowed to stay.

The next soul pleaded not for Elysium, but for their lover. They begged to be reunited with them in Asphodel.

"It is not my job to see that lovers unite. If you are soul mates you will find one another," Tony said with a terribly bored voice.

"Please, my lord. I has been a hundred years-"

"Be grateful I do not drop you in the River Lethe before you are returned!" he snapped. "Be gone with you."

"You are too harsh," Peter said as the soul was dragged away

Tony glared down at him. "You don't have to listen to the same nonsense for eternity."

"You are a god. You should be grateful for that."

"You should be grateful I don't sick my hound on you," Tony growled. "Now go."

Peter hesitated, not wishing to be alone again, but the look on Tony's face was far from kind. With a deep frown, Peter turned and walked back to the orchard.

The trees weren't much for company. Peter walked through the boughs, lonely and with too much time to reflect. He thought about the life he had lost and all of the things he had given up. He thought about Harry. Did he regret leaving him now that he was dead? Did he miss him? He wondered if Harry would go to his funeral and if he would ever bring flowers. After a long while of wandering, he couldn't take it any longer. He made his way back to the place where the grass died and became stone.

There were no souls there now, only a massive dog which sat at the foot of the throne. It opened one big eye as Peter came near. When he didn't stop it raised its head only for Peter to realize that it had not one, but three. A growl rumbled in its throat.

"Sorry to bother you, big guy. I was just looking for the other big guy." Peter reached out a hand inviting the dog to smell it. It lowered its heads suspiciously. Then it sniffed.

"It's okay. I'm not up to any mischief, I promise. I was just lonely. You look like you might be lonely, too."

Peter smiled as the dog allowed him to pet his hairy nose. It watched him curiously as he came closer so he could scratch behind his ears.

"You're sweet aren't you?" Peter cooed. "Sweet boy."

"Peter?" Tony's voice called. He turned his head to see him coming up the path. "I wouldn't bother him if I were you."

"He seems to like me," Peter shrugged. "I was just looking for some company."

Tony stopped and looked at them both. He tucked his hands behind his back, watching silently while Peter pet the happy dog. His giant tail wagged into the gray dirt.

"You were lonely?" Tony finally asked.

"Trees aren't the best company as it turns out. I'm not used to be alone. Harry and I..." Peter took a breath. Just mentioning his name made his chest burn. "Well, we were always together."

"I see..." Tony stared off toward the orchard. "Come and see me tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. It doesn't always get dark here, but night will fall in a few hours. Come back here then, but not before."

Peter looked at the man, but he didn't seem likely to divulge what he was up to. "Alright... I will see you then."

He gave the dog, Cerberus, one last pet. Then he turned away and walked back to the orchard.

As promised the sky above began to darken. Peter watched it with fascination for a moment. There were no stars in the Underworld. The sky was a deep navy, almost black. Yet, Peter could see perfectly fine. He walked back through the trees to where the ground became stone and there he found a grand table set with candles and silver platters.

"Peter, glad you could join me," Tony greeted. The look on his face was almost a smile.

"What is all this?"

"You said you were lonely so I thought we could share a meal together. If you'd like."

Peter smiled. "Of course! That sounds great."

Tony looked relived. He pulled out a chair for him. "I don't know what you like, but I had nearly everything I could think of prepared."

Peter sat down, offering his thanks as Tony pushed his seat up. He sat down on Peter's right. He flinched as Tony's dead soldiers melted from the shadows and began to serve him from the many plates and platters. When his plate and cup were full, they took a step back waiting to serve him again.

"This all looks amazing. I thought you couldn't eat the food in the Underworld."

Tony picked up his glass, the only thing in front of him. "If it is grown here, then it is true. Eating food grown in the Underworld can have undesired effects." He stared into his wine. Then he looked up and gave Peter a smile. "Eat," he said.

Every bite was divine. Sitting together with Tony helped chase the loneliness away. They talked about Peter's happy memories in life, his time in college, holidays with his Aunt May, being Uncle Peter to Gwen's twins. Harry wasn't there for most of the good parts. Peter couldn't help but find that strange. Harry had felt like such a big part of his life, but had he? Maybe the Underworld was making him forgetful.

After dinner, they stood together and watched the light return. Tony's odd little soldiers cleared everything away.

"Thank you, Peter," Tony said. He gave him a smile. Peter admired the way it made his eyes shine.

"No, thank you. That was a lovely dinner. I'm feeling a lot better, too."

"I'm glad." He paused for a moment and they stood simply looking at each other as the sky changed above them. "You're welcome to return here whenever you please."

Peter's smile widened. "Are you saying you enjoyed my company as well?"

Tony shrugged. "It's wasn't the worst dinner I've been to."

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked away. He returned to the orchard where the boughs were heavy with fruit. He spent hours, maybe days, picking the fruit and collecting it into baskets that he couldn't recalling seeing before. There was a pail and some tools as well.

He stuck to picking fruit for now. That is until his arms grew tired from reaching and legs grew tried from carrying him. He left the orchard to return to the throne. There was Hades, sat atop, looking terribly bored as he dealt with the unending line of souls.

"Please, Lord Hades-"

"Shoo," the god wave the soul away and they were dragged off. Peter went and took a seat, cross legged on the ground beside him. Tony spared him a glance.

"Come to watch the show?"

"I like being with you."

Tony stiffened, but said nothing in answer. Another soul stepped forward. A sort of gray tone clouded not only their skin, but their clothes as well. Peter wondered why he wasn't the same way. Was it because he Tony's soul, belonging to the orchard, while this soul belonged somewhere else? The souls from the Fields were all a bit gray.

"Please, Lord Hades, it has been one hundred and fifty years since my death. I wish to be united with my daughter. I walk the Fields endlessly and never find her," the soul pleaded.

Tony sighed. "Fine," he said. Peter blinked, sitting more upright. "When you return to the Fields, your daughter will await you at the gate."

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed wjth gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

"That was kind of you," Peter said.

Tony huffed in response, but he continued this way. Whenever a soul made, what seemed to Peter, a reasonable request Tony honored it. Souls were united with family, friends, and lovers so long as they walked the fields together. And when it was done, Tony walked with Peter back to the orchard.

They walked beneath the trees, the smell of pomegranate in the air.

"What changed your mind about the souls?"

Tony stood and examined one of the trees. He ignored Peter's question. "They seem happy with you here," he said.

"You were right. They do tell me what they need."

Tony smiled. "Of course I was." He turned and took Peter's hand. His heart fluttered. They kept walking until the Styx came into view. They watched the river pass by in silence. Then after a long while Tony said, "I have to go." Then he disappeared.

Peter turned in a circle, but the god was truly gone. He smiled to himself and turned back to watch the river pass. Tony left him feeling warm. He missed his company already, but he was glad to have had it in the first place.

He went back to his trees, tending them with a smile. Time as usual, without measure other than a weariness in his legs from standing. Then the trees began to ask for water.

It made sense. It never seemed to rain in the Underworld. Certainly trees would need water. He had a pail he could collect it in, but where would he get it from? The only water source nearby was the Styx. He looked around for Tony, but the god was not nearby. So he took it upon himself to get the water.

Peter carried his pail down to the riverside. He placed his feet carefully to keep from slipping into the water. Then he leaned out and scooped some water up with the pail. He set the full pail up on the bank, but its weight unbalanced him. His feet slid in the rocks and he was pulled under the water's surface.

While the Styx looked steady and calm, there was a current beneath its surface. It claimed him easy, dragging him under and pulling him far far away from the orchard. Peter tried to swim up, sometimes his hands breached the surface, but never his head. His lungs burned with lack of air, then with water. Then he was drowning. Drowning without dying.

There was never any telling how much time passed in the Underworld. But finally, finally... he was pulled from the river.

He vomited what felt like gallons of water, coughing the rest from his lungs. The pain faded quickly. Peter laid on his back and blinked wet eyes at the man standing over him. He was a shadow, blocking out the light above.

"Tony?" he rasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall in. The trees needed water and I slipped."

Tony knelt beside him. "I know. I saw the water pail by the river." He scooped Peter up and pulled him to his chest. Instantly, he was dry. "You're safe now."

"Thank you." Peter's body shook in fear and relief. "That was horrible."

Tony pet his hair and held him close. "Come and get me next time the trees need water. I will call the rain to water them."

Tony helped him stand. With slow steps they walked back together to the orchard. Tony seemed far more quiet than usual. Peter couldn't place just what was wrong. He'd been warned not to try to cross the river. Was he not allowed to go near it at all? Or did Tony think he had tried to leave. Why would it bother him so much if he did?

They passed under the first branches of the orchard. Without thinking, Peter plucked the first pomegranate he saw. He stopped and admired the round, red, fruit in his hands. Tony stopped and turned, looking back at him.

"I've never tasted one of these." Peter laughed softly. "All this time picking them and caring for them, but I never eat them."

"If you eat the fruit in the Underworld, you can never leave," Tony reminded him.

"You wouldn't let me leave anyway."

"Maybe I would." There was a vulnerable honesty there in his eyes. He was right, wasn't he? This time he was right. Harry had never loved him. He had been young and foolish and naive. Tony didn't just show him desire and adoration in the way that Harry had, no. From Tony he received respect, admiration, trust. Because Tony loved him, truly.

"You thought, even if it was only for a moment, that I had tried to cross the river. Were you relieved when you realized it was an accident?" Peter looked at his face. He said nothing, gave nothing away with his expression.

Peter looked at the fruit in his hand. He dug his thumbs into the skin and pulled it apart. It bled pink onto his skin. Tony watched him in silence, seeming to hold his breath. Peter examined his face searching for one last reassure that he was truly wanted. Then he brought the fruit to his lips and bit into its seeds.

It was perfectly sweet. The taste of it coated his tongue. Juice dripped down his chin. When he swallowed, it was heavy in his stomach. He dropped the fruit and looked at the god.

His gaze was adoring, worshipful.

"Allow me a taste," Tony said. He reached for him, pulling him in. Their lips met and Peter moaned at a taste that was far sweeter than the fruit.

His hands held Tony's face, staining his cheeks pink. Strong hands held his back, guiding him to press in closer until they were flush. Peter moaned as a tongue slipped over his own, exploring and claiming his mouth. He felt high on him, willing and receptive to any of Tony's desires.

They stopped, only for a moment, and gazed at each other's faces. Then Tony took him and laid him back in the soft grass beneath the trees.

Tony stripped away his clothes. Each article was removed with gentle care and hot kisses pressed to his newly exposed skin. Every inch of him felt sensitive to the softness of his lips and the scratch of his beard. When he was naked, Tony returned above him to kiss his lips again. Peter let his hands roam over his chest and found that his clothes were gone, revealing a muscular and scarred chest. Tony caught his hand, holding it above his heart.

"Do you mind?" he said. His eyes shined.

Peter shook his head. "You're beautiful, Tony," he said. Tony caught his mouth in a kiss that was ripe with need.

Peter spread his legs apart and Tony settled between them. His kiss were soft and tender as he pushed slowly inside him. His mouth captured the high pitch whined that escaped Peter's lips. Slowly he was filled until Tony was fully inside him. His hands clung to Tony's shoulders and he stared up into gleaming brown eyes.

He dragged his fingers over his skin to cup his face in both hands. "I love you," Peter whispered.

Tony's smile was joyous. "I love you, Peter."

Peter gasped, head falling back into the grass as Tony moved inside him. The friction felt so intense that he could form words but that didn't stop him from whining and babbling. Tony kissed his lips, his bared neck, his chest. His lips sucked his nipples, tongue flicking and teasing over them. Peter's nails dug into Tony's shoulders. All he could do was hold on as his cock dragged over his prostate and Tony fucked him fast and deep. Frantic, like he was starving. When his mouth returned to Peter's, he held him tight, kissing his lips as if they dripped ambrosia. He refused to let, kissing him deeply and desperately until he could hold on no longer. His nails cut scratches into Tony's back as his body ached and shivered beneath him. His cum splattered, sticky and warm on his skin.

He panted hard, looking up at Tony again with nothing but adoration and love. He held Tony's beautiful face.

"Cum in me, please," Peter begged.

"Anything you want is yours," Tony pledged.

He moved him again, cock deep inside, body screaming with sensitivity. A tear rolled down Peter's cheek and he whimpered painfully, but he was euphoric. Tony kissed away his tears. Peter tasted the salt on his lips. Then Tony moaned, holding him tight. Peter covered his face in kisses. He felt him cum, making him sticky and wet inside.

Tony's cheeks were red and his smile was bright. Peter couldn't help but smile, too, and pulled him down into a deep unending kiss.

#marvel #starker #prompt fill #hades and persephone #fluff #romance #nff

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emikadreams · 3 years

Text

The Lord and the Lady

A/N: IT'S HERE FOLKS!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think💕 once again I highly recommend listening to this(I killed the bitch) playlist while you read this fic. song recs are always welcome! Hope you enjoy this fic...

INCYMI: PROLOGUE

Chapter 1: THE LADY HAS ARRIVED

The wolves were howling, for their lady had come home.

The sun was shining with renewed vigour, the cherry blossoms filled the air with their fragrance and the people rejoiced and welcomed Feyre with open arms.

The high lady was revered and loved by her people and by the Mother herself, she was Feyre, Cauldron blessed after all, after three years of denying herself her land, her birthright, her power she found herself again and accepted every fibre of her being. She breathed in the smell of her home deep into her lungs and sighed in contentment.

She was safe-she was free.

She welcomed the sweet pleasure of liberation and smiled as her people roared her name from the moment she set foot in her court. She stood with her spine straight and head held high as her bloody clothes stood in stark contrast to her serene court. With her tattered dress blowing in the wind she walked into her home, a throng of people had gathered behind her. They followed their high lady, with unrestrained happiness. She passed merry children, stunned citizens, and busy marketplaces before walking into the garden where she came into her power.

In the heart of her court, her throne was placed on a raised podium,and her people had lovingly painted it with a myriad of colours when she was crowned as the High lady. The swirls of colour depicted her artistic soul and her childlike wonder that she thought was long gone. She skillfully conjured up stairs of darkness and stood at the bottom of the podium and said with a voice that resonated through the bones of every being in her court ,

“ I’m home.”

She outstretched her hands and her dirty, torn clothes transformed into her training leathers and a mantle adorned her shoulders. Her hair was left unbound and cascaded down to her waist.The blood, dust and grime disappeared from her body and she smiled without restraint, her happiness made the sun glow brighter, the flowers continued to blossom over the horizon, wolves howled in pride, and a chorus of thunderous applause followed. Her general, Nesta Archeron, walked up to her with a crown in hand. Nesta held her hand before whispering, “Welcome home Fey.” Feyre could see Nesta was trying not to cry, she swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, her eyes conveying everything she felt when words continued to fail her. Nesta’s eyes softened and she hugged her sister tightly.

Her spymaster, Elain Archeron floated up to them and joined the hug, “We missed you, Fey. We were beyond miserable without you.” Even though Elain’s voice was muffled, Feyre heard her loud and clear. They pulled out of the hug and Feyre saw tears lining Elain’s eyes but she blinked them back and smiled.

The Archeron sisters were whole yet again.

The three sisters stood close, their hands linked together with Feyre in the center. The sisters flanked her on either side, forming a formidable wall of power. They were a force to be reckoned with and the world now knew that the Archerons were not be messed with. The sisters were hesitant to let go of each other but they knew what had to be done first. Nesta placed the crown on Feyre’s head and every inch of her sighed with relief at the rightness of it, Elain placed the sword of Astraeus in her hands and nodded towards Feyre.

Feyre held the sword and ascended the stairs towards her throne. Once she reached the top she placed the sword on the engraved slot along the spine of the throne, instantly illuminating it. Gasps of awe and surprise erupted from the court which only increased in tempo as vines of light and darkness snaked down the throne. The garden was at once filled with stars and mist that emanated from deep within her, she sat on her throne and Nesta, shouted on top of her lungs,

“Long live, High Lady Feyre Archeron.” her voice was laced with pride,

Her people echoed the sentiment and bowed.

Feyre smiled and rested her hands on her throne, relishing in the feel of it. Every part of the court was hers, she had betrayed, manipulated, bled and killed, for this throne. She owned every inch of it and she reveled in the knowledge.

She scraped a nail along the inscriptions etched on the hand-rest as the mist behind her throne took the shape of large wolves that placed themselves on either side of her. They bowed their heads, welcoming her back into the pack and resumed their role as the protectors of the High Lady. The chorus of her name continued and she let them rejoice, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. After she decided that she had received enough attention to last a life time, she walked down the stairs and stood amongst her people, cleared her throat and the garden fell silent, her people turned attentive, “So, what have I missed.”

The garden erupted into chaos and thus began the court’s one week revel, Solely for praising the High Lady of the Dusk court and filling her in on what had happened while she was away.

A week went by and Feyre had the eerie sense that trouble would be finding her soon. She walked the halls of her estate like a ghost and carried on with her duties but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her picture perfect world would come crumbling down any moment. Later that evening as she was holding court with her sisters and her emissary, her suspicions were proven correct and her life was upturned yet again.

“Why wasn’t I aware of the fact that our borders were infiltrated!” Feyre snarled in anger at Pari, the emissary to her court who had let this crucial detail slip from her tongue. She looked around the room nervously, earning a glare from Nesta and sigh from Elain. Pari stood rooted to the spot with fear as Feyre shook with barely restrained anger.

Feyre was furious, her grip on her power slackened, the chandeliers started shaking and the mountains trembled in the distance.

“Feyre,” Nesta said cautiously , “You were preoccupied,” Nesta raised an eyebrow and shrugged nonchalantly, besides we handled it.”

“That doesn’t give you free rein to keep me in the dark about the comings and goings of my court!” Feyre snapped. She started pacing the length of her room, while the room fell silent. Nesta turned her attention back to polishing her knives and Elain returned to reading her reports, both content on letting their sister sort her thoughts out. Seeing that the spotlight was no longer on her, Pari took this as an opportunity to all but run out of the room. The gears in Feyre’s mind were turning, multiple plans already taking root. She paused in her furious pacing as an idea took shape.

“How did they get past our shields?” she asked Elain.

“Apparently, they found a weak spot.” she replied from her spot on Feyre's bed without raising her head from her reports.

“That’s not possible.” Feyre whispered to herself but her thoughts were interrupted when Nesta cleared her throat, dragging her attention towards her eldest sister.

“ I have an idea that can help us fully understand how our borders were breached but you won’t like it,” Nesta grinned. Feyre rolled her eyes and sketched a bow,” Humor me.”

Nesta’s grin grew wider, “ It requires talking to a certain violet-eyed High Lord.”

Feyre paled at the mention of the High Lord of Night, she started shaking her head, “No way. No fucking way!”

Elain sighed in exasperation and Nesta grinned at her sisters, “Time to meet the almighty Lord of Night, dear sisters.”

Feyre groaned in frustration,“Well, Fuck me!”

“I’d be happy too but maybe later, darling” a smooth voice cut her off. The Lord of the Night and his entourage sauntered into her bedroom and bowed while Rhysand stared her down.

Nesta brushed mental claws against the adamant shield to Feyre’s mind, she opened a sliver and let her in, Feyre’s exhaustion, anger and surprise enveloped Nesta like smoke as she spoke to Feyre in her mind “ We had to speak with him so we arranged a meeting a week ago when we finally got word that you would be coming home, so, surprise?”

Feyre wished for a hole to open in the ground and swallow her whole as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin and regarded the infamous High Lord.

The two stared at each other as if they were the only two souls in the galaxy, stars winked to life in Rhysand’s eyes and Feyre felt a shiver of excitement snake down her spine.

“This is not going to end well.” Elain mumbled and Nesta hummed in agreement and got up to leave but Feyre glared at both of her sisters rooting them to their spots. She tilted her head as if to say that they got her into this mess, so they were going to burn with her. They sighed but drifted to her side, her General stood to her left while her spymaster was to her right. Rhysand’s entourage grinned toothily and Feyre’s sisters snarled in defiance.

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath as the High Lady of Dusk and the High Lord of Night spoke.

“Rhysand”

“Feyre darling.”

“Oh mother have mercy,” Feyre thought to herself as two of the most powerful faes in Prythian regarded each other with apprehension.

Taglist: lemme know if you want to be tagged💕

@story-scribbler @thebonecarver @surielandiareendgame @feysand-loml @flyingtortillasworldsblog @feysandandnyxsworld @ratabrasileira @wintersouldier57 @tanvee1231 @kayla-2 @evolving-dreamer

*bolded tags don't work

#feysand au #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #dusk court #high lady feyre #canon divergence #my writing #au #the archeron sisters #feyre #general nesta #spymaster elain

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kaminobiwan · 4 years

Text

cannonball

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Throwing all caution out the window, Obi-Wan dives headfirst into a long awaited confession. At least, he tries to. The universe seems to leave an obstacle for him at every turn, but Obi-Wan is nothing if not persistent.

a/n: Oh my goodness, this has got to be my proudest piece. It was one of the victims of the incident™ and I had to rewrite the whole thing from scratch, but I actually think the final version came out better than the original! The title is inspired from the summary of my previous fic Indulgence, but this one is actually the cornerstone of all of my jedi!reader x Obi-Wan fics: every one of those has stemmed from this storyline idea that has been living in my head for so long. Suffice it to say this is THE fic that I have wanted to write from the beginning — my pièce de résistance, if you will.

I hope you enjoy :-) p.s. here's my taglist form

In all the years he’s known you, Obi-Wan swears he only ever started to lie to you during the Clone Wars.

In his defense, he’d been lying to himself, too. Forcibly crushing down his much-deeper-than-platonic favor for you in the hopes that it’d disappear, forgotten in his darkest recesses, was exhausting in more ways than one. One’s mind can only be dishonest with the heart for so long.

But after more than a year and a half into the fighting, he’d felt too many times the choking fear that he’d never see you again — be it because of his death or yours.

So he’d given up in repressing his emotions, and let himself feel. In the precious minutes of reprieve amidst the horrors of combat, sometimes the only thing that could console his jaded and war-torn soul was the memory of you.

He wonders how he managed to continue for as long as he did before allowing himself to consciously love — it was well into the conflict when he came to terms with it. If he closes his eyes, he can easily remember the exact moment.

Geonosis. His return to the forsaken planet.

The chaos of it all had been staggering. He’d barely been able to hear Cody’s warning before he was shot out of the sky, and the crash that claimed the lives of nearly everyone in the transport had been just the beginning of the hellscape he’d endured.

There was an instant where he’d been sure he was going to die on the field, seconds before the remainder of his battalion was about to be overrun.

He remembers the gunfire surrounding him, piercing the falling bodies of his men as he laid helpless and injured. Cody’s shouting amidst the mayhem. The stabbing pain of his ribs that had blackened the edges of his vision. The dirt that had caked his face and armor. The sheer amount of it had been maddening.

And yet, as the bugs had closed in around him and he’d forced himself to his feet to meet his imminent end, the only thing that had run through his mind was...you.

Your name, your face. The dissatisfaction at the fact that the last time he’d seen it, it’d been distorted, static and blue from the holo you’d shared with Master Unduli. The way you’d hidden a smile as she interrupted his competitive jeering with Anakin ahead of the battle.

At least he’d made you laugh, he’d thought, and with that, he’d ignited his lightsaber.

And then the reinforcements had come. And he’d been left to sink back down on shaking knees with the image of you burning in his brain until the concerned presence of Ahsoka materialized at his side.

He hadn’t had any time to process the stunning realization that he was in love with you. He’d scarcely had a second to gather himself before he was already spouting a revised attack plan to take the droid factory, reverting to autopilot the way he always did when he assumed his identity as a war general.

But the universe had seemed intent on not letting him escape it, regardless. Just days later, he’d saved your life — you’d arrived at Point Rain with Luminara only to be taken by the Geonosian queen to be turned into a mindless, shivering zombie.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know.” You’d chirped, while tapping his nose teasingly.

“What? The stunt with the worms? You know I wouldn’t have actually let it go up your nose.”

“No, for disobeying an order to fall back and leave us behind.”

His heart had clenched at your words. Never in a million years would he abandon you if he thought there was the smallest chance of saving you. He knew that, finally.

But the fear of losing the only life he’d ever known outweighed the fear of losing you, and he’d settled with yearning for you from afar. It would be enough, he’d convinced himself. He refused to burden you with the knowledge that he’d been pining helplessly for you for Force knows how long, and ruin the careers in the Order you’d both worked so hard to construct.

That was, until now.

Until he’d seen Satine Kryze again, after decades apart, and she’d declared her surviving affection for him from all those years ago, Anakin witnessing the whole thing. After he’d seen the weight of her unspoken truth upon her shoulders. And although he regretted that he couldn’t grant her the relief from her wanting, he’d resolved that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days the same way — slowly being crushed by his own supression. Even if his feelings were unrequited.

So he’d decided that he’d tell you, Jedi Code be damned. He wouldn’t hold it in any longer.

As the Coronet docked on the landing pad where the Chancellor was waiting, he’d been jittery with anticipation. That, and disoriented from the events that had transpired on the way there. He’d blubbered uncharacteristically when Satine had caressed his face in farewell, Anakin watching delightedly at his back. Then, as he’d turned to find a speeder to make his way to you in the Temple, the universe had yet again toyed with him — you were there, appearing on the platform out of nowhere like a summoned spirit, but not making your way towards him.

No, you were walking straight towards Satine.

You didn’t seem to notice him or Anakin behind you, welcoming the Duchess with practiced cordiality and leading her to the airbus where the other Senators were boarding, glaringly obvious that you’d been assigned on escort duty. Obi-Wan held back a groan. Of all the Jedi.

Anakin had practically collapsed in hilarity, a hand heavy on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Master,” he crowed. “I finally get that one.”

———

You’re perched high up on a viewing balcony of the Senate Chamber when he finds you, a little before Satine is set to address the Republic.

“You’re certainly off your game today,” you exhale an amused laugh as he skids to a stop, attempting to compose his appearance as he approaches you. “Anakin told me all about what happened on the Coronet en route to Coruscant.”

His blasted Padawan. Obi-Wan could strangle him.

“I didn’t teach him to gossip,” he grumbles, coming to stand beside you. He'd run the whole way here to catch you, but his rapid heartbeat isn’t from physical exertion. You’re as tranquil as ever, though, and your presence relaxes him despite.

You give a snort. “Maybe not intentionally. He definitely learned how to operate outside the lines of the Code by watching you.” He knows you’re poking fun at him, but his breath catches at the mention of the doctrine that dictates you both.

But he’s set on telling you. Today.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something similar.”

You turn to the Chancellor’s podium as his voice reverberates through the hall, but Obi-Wan’s hearing is fixed on you. “Of course, Obi, but it’ll have to wait until later. I think your friend is about to speak.”

He opens his mouth to reply, to bring your attention back to him, but you’re focused on the proceedings. He doesn’t like the jovial way you say friend, as if you’re almost happy about it, but he forces his gaze to follow yours as Satine begins her address.

Which, of course, goes terribly wrong. Because nothing seems to want to work out today.

Even your usually optimistic features are set with a grim expression as a testimonial from Satine’s own Deputy Minister slights her leadership, and the Senate turns against her. As her repulsorpod retreats from the center of the chamber, you cast concerned eyes towards him.

“Go,” you urge him, and he’s frozen between staying or leaving. “She needs you. I’ll buy you some time with the security detail.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to depart from your side, words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he knows you’re right. He nods at you gratefully before chasing after Satine.

———

He tries again in the evening, while you’re between shifts of guarding the Duchess’ guest quarters.

“She seems...interesting,” you nod to the Mandalorian guard that passes by to take your post, speaking low enough that your conversation is relatively private. “She certainly had much to say about you.”

Obi-Wan wanted to scream. It seems everyone had been able to get you alone except for him. “I told you about that year on Mandalore after I came back,” he protests, and you shoot him a pitiful wink.

“Not the way she described it.”

Before he can demand just what Satine had let on, the sound of rapid footfalls draws both of your attention to the guard you’d greeted earlier. “Master Jedi! The Duchess is gone. We don’t know for how long.”

You curse lightly and rush down the hall to follow the Mandalorian, and Obi-Wan is about to do the same when his comm buzzes on his wrist.

He sighs in frustration. He knows exactly who it is.

———

After he’d relayed the untampered evidence to Padmé in time for the Senate convocation and Satine had been released from custody, Obi-Wan makes his way to your quarters in a determined stride. The past couple days were nothing short of a wild Bantha ride from start to finish, and he was tired of tiptoeing around you.

As he raises a shaking hand to knock outside your room, he stalls in a moment of fleeting hesitation. The impending metamorphose of your relationship nags at his brain, and he pauses. What he’s about to do will indelibly transform the dynamic between you, for better or for worse. It dawns on him that there won’t be any going back from this.

He hears your voice from a distant memory of late nights in the Temple gardens, basking in the light of the stars. Of course everything will change. Nothing can stop that.

So be it.

He stands as tall as he can manage, and knocks resolutely.

You open the door looking ready for bed, clad in a billowing camisole, face dewy from the refresher and hair still damp. He smiles at you as you open it wider. “Hello, Obi.”

He shuffles inside, meekly nodding in apology of his interruption. “I thought I’d come see you.”

Like routine, you’re already heating up a pot of water for him as you search for his favorite tea in your cupboard. Ever so thoughtful. His heart flutters beneath his robes. “I’m glad to see you found the Duchess,” you chime lightheartedly, “I had a hunch when you disappeared earlier.”

His hand finds the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t make you look too bad, being on protection and all.”

You shake your head dismissively. “I was just glad to hear she was safe. You helped save her people from Republic occupation.”

Altruistic honesty radiates off of you, and his chest drops, in a good way. You care, and it’s written all over your actions.

You’re the best person he knows. Without question.

For a split second, Obi-Wan wonders if he even deserves you. But he pushes the thought in the back of his mind for later, hell-bent on not letting anything get in the way of what he wants to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

You face him fully, abandoning the tea as you take in the seriousness of his posture. He sucks in a stunted breath.

“It’s about —”

“I know.”

He startles, momentum lost as you interrupt him suddenly. Your gaze is penetrating. “What?” He asks dumbly.

“It’s about Satine, isn’t it?” Your bare arm comes up across your body to hold the other, and Obi-Wan finds himself staring at the way your too-long pants brush the floor as you sway to one side. Your sleeping shirt brushes the middle of your thighs, and he realizes how utterly small you seem in the moment. “You feel the same way about her that you used to.”

His eyes snap up to yours at your words, mind reeling. It takes him an eternity to force out a single word.

“...No.”

You tilt your head confusedly, and Obi-Wan wants to pinch himself to test if this is some sort of stress-induced hallucination. “No? You do know she’s positively infatuated with you, don’t you?”

“No, I —” he shuts his eyes desperately. “I mean, yes, I know, but I don’t —” he breaks off abruptly, opening his eyes at you with newfound willpower. Blast it.

Obi-Wan crosses the room in three steps, reaching his hands out to cradle you delicately as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

He hears your breath stutter, shock just about vibrating off of you, but in the next second your eyelashes graze his cheeks as you close your eyes and lean into him. His heart pounds in crazed gratification, and Obi-Wan feels downright dizzy from the sensation. He’s going to faint, he’s going to die right here in your arms —

Your hands find the top of his chestplate, fingers curling against it, but after a beat of his body singing with joy, he feels you apply the smallest pressure on his armor. You detach your lips from his slowly, and he blinks dazedly at you when you pull away. Disbelief paints your frame.

“Obi, what —”

“I love you,” he says quickly, hands still on either side of your face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. For so long.” One of your hands reaches up to clasp his own against your cheek. “I know that this goes against everything we’ve ever been taught, and you must be confused. I’m sorry.” He breaks off for a second, eyebrows creasing, because he’s not sorry. He could never be sorry for what he’s just done, not with the feeling of your lips still rippling in tingles through his brain. “But I had to tell you. I just...couldn’t go on without you knowing.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you flounder in his confession, and he studies you with more intensity than he’s felt in ages. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything about you, offhandedly concentrating to memorize every tiny detail. He’ll relive that kiss a thousand times over for the rest of his life if it’s the last one he’ll get.

“I — I don’t know what to say,” you manage to let out, and he presses his forehead to yours before releasing you. Say you love me, his heart cries. But Obi-Wan pushes the sentiment away.

“It’s alright,” he promises gently. You stare at him as he squeezes the hand that’s still holding his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Obi-Wan, I —”

Whatever you’re about to say is cut off by a loud knock from outside, and the way you jerk back from him pricks at his emotions. You quickly pad to the door, opening it a crack as he attempts to conceal himself from your unexpected visitor.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Master,” Anakin’s voice fills the air, and Obi-Wan shrinks further into the shadows. “I’m just checking in before I leave for Vanquor. I wanted to make sure you’re still available to train Ahsoka while I’m gone?”

It takes you a little to formulate a response, your eyes still wide. “Yes — of course, Anakin, always.” You attempt to shut the door, but Anakin speaks up before you can.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you for some advice as well, if you don’t mind.”

You can’t look at Obi-Wan without giving him away, so he sends a subtle wave of reassurance your way, hoping you pick up on it.

The tension releases from your shoulders, and you nod at his old student. “I’d be happy to. Give me a bit to get ready,” you gesture behind you, “and I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Anakin must nod in return, because you close the door without another word. You reach up to grab your outer robes from where they’re hung on the wall, and turn to him with a tormented expression.

Go, it’s his turn to coax you as he mouths the word silently. It’s alright.

Your eyes are shining with emotion that he can’t quite read in the dim light, but eventually you slip on your cloak and shoes and open the door once more. With one last lingering glimpse at him in the corner, you disappear into the hall where Anakin is waiting.

As he feels your presence dwindling away, he sends a final thought into the vacant room, more to himself and the aching emptiness of the Force than to you.

I love you.

#*DROPS THIS AND RUNS*#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #i'm so excited to finally post this one it's been in my drafts forever #THE DRAMA!#don’t imagine the gif as his face after you leave just DON’T

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N: This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor. I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory. “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don��t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #defending jacob #post defending jacob #andy barber #holiday fic #christmas fic #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #fanfiction #challenge fic #conundrum #anika ann

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hoeforminhoee · 3 years

Text

(not my image!)

➳ pairing: Lee Know x female reader ➳ genre: fluff, angst (if you squint real hard), husband!leeknow au, Slice of Life ➳ warnings: mentions of Alzheimer’s, miscarriage and trauma ➳ word count: 2.4K ➳ author’s note: This is the first fic I’ve written in almost 4 years and I’m rusty as hell I really hope you guys like it♡ฅ(=・ᆽ・ฅ=) (also please spare me if its bad, I tried hahaha)

I listened to my uwufeels.com spotify playlist while writing this! So check it out if you guys wanna!

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You don't know how long it had been since this recurring dream started, where you find yourself sitting in a wheelchair in a quaint garden overlooking a small lake. You were confused, to say the least.

It felt like an out-of-body experience, yet everything felt so real.

Your eyes traveled down to your hands as you let out a sigh and cursed under your breath.“These hands look way too wrinkly for a 23-year-old! What kind of dream is this?”

Looking around, you saw a few other people in the garden. Some of them in wheelchairs like yourself, and others on the benches under the cherry blossom trees, all wearing the same lilac striped gown.

You quickly realized that this had to be a hospital of some sort.

Why were you in a hospital, and why does this particular hospital always appear in all your dreams? Sometimes you would be 16, 23, or even 50 years old in your dreams, but you were always in the same hospital and the same lilac gown.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you sat there, lost in your thoughts, reveling in the warm spring air that smelt of petrichor. You hummed to the sound of the magpies chirping and watched as the cherry blossom petals danced in the breeze, a few of them landing in your hair.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands in your hair - presumably picking out the fallen petals. You spun around and peered over your shoulders and were shocked when you came face to face with a man in his 70s. He looked at you intently, with a small smile adorning his face. And if you looked closely, maybe you would have seen his eyes flash a tinge of melancholy.

The man immediately regained his composure. His eyes softened and resumed picking the petals out from your hair.

“Sorry if I startled you, my dear” The man let out an amused chuckle.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was a weird sense of familiarity with this man.

Then it clicked.

“Dad?” you gasped, and the elderly man burst out in a fit of laughter.

He then quickly shook his head while trying his best to calm down before putting his hand next to your ear, and whispered: "My name is Minho, and I think I may have a crush on you

Your eyes widened in shock and you moved away from the man.

You were certain that the man, Minho, was a delusional old man who enjoyed flirting with girls 50 years his junior.

Before you could even retort, a nurse was walking towards you. “Mrs. Lee, it’s time for lunch!” The nurse called out as he smiled at you and Minho.

You peeked at the nurse's name tag and tugged at his shirt while Minho wasn't looking. "Nurse Jisung, I think this man is crazy. He just told me that he has a crush on me! And I'm barely half his age!"

Jisung held in his laughter but couldn't help let a chortle escape "Did he tell you that? Well, Mrs. Lee, you'd better make your move quickly! Mr. Lee's sure popular around here!" Your face contorted at Jisung's response.

Well, you guess Jisung wasn’t wrong after all. As you were being wheeled back into your ward, you noticed some ahjummas looking at you and Minho enviously.

Minho walked next to Jisung, asking the nurse about his wife, and you figured that Minho’s wife was probably also in this hospital.

Then, things got weird when Minho followed you into your private ward.

“Uh, excuse me 어르신…” (eoreushin: how people usually address an Elderly in Korean)

Minho looked up at you, hurt evident in his eyes, but you didn’t know why.

“Yes Y/N?” He plopped himself onto a plush chair next to your bed and held onto your hands.

You haven’t had the chance to look at Minho up close, but dang, you had to admit that he was handsome and charming even at this ripe old age.

You didn’t speak as you looked into his eyes.

These eyes. You were sure you’ve seen these eyes somewhere before.

You watched, as the golden specks in his hazel brown eyes sparkled under the ray of sunlight streaming in from the large french windows. You couldn’t explain why you were feeling the way you felt, god you really couldn’t.

You held your gaze on him for what felt like an eternity. Everything about this peculiar old man felt so familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

Think, Y/N. Think! Where have you seen this man before? Why can’t you remember?

Your hands flew to your head as you started panicking.

Why can't you remember? Who is this man? Why does he know my name?

Minho rushed to your side when he noticed you shaking and panicking.

He pulled you into a hug and started stroking your hair.

“It’s ok Y/N ah, It’s ok. I’m here, don’t be scared.”

Why was this scene so familiar?

- Fall of 2033 -

You sat on the examination bed, looking at the foliage outside, heart-thumping while holding onto Minho’s hand.

It was your first ultrasound after hitting your second trimester and both you and Minho were so excited to see how big your baby has gotten.

Your ob-gyn reclined the examination bed and began applying the ultrasound gel on your belly and Minho squeezed your hand, sending you a reassuring smile.

This wasn’t your first ultrasound since you were pregnant, so you knew something was wrong when the ob-gyn spent almost an hour on your ultrasound.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified, but you tried to calm yourself down.

Minho slung his arms around you and drew small circles on your shoulders. “I’m sure everything is going to be ok, Y/N ah. They probably just wanted a more detailed scan or something. Don’t worry too much baby, I’m here.” and he placed a small kiss on the back of your hand.

The ob-gyn sat you back down in her office and your worst fears were confirmed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Lee. We couldn’t detect your baby's heartbeat.”

Your world came to a standstill. It was like everything was moving in slow motion.

You haven’t fully processed your miscarriage until you were sat on a hospital bed, waiting for your abortion. You were shaking and sobbing violently in Minho’s arms.

“It’s ok Y/N ah, It’s ok. I’m here, don’t be scared. It’s ok, we can get through this together.

I love you.” he kisses your forehead and rests his chin on your head, silently sobbing.

- End of flashback -

You sat there in Minho’s embrace, confused.

That wasn’t my memory, was it?

“Minho?” you squeaked, voice small and hoarse.

“Yes, baby? Are you ok?” Minho bent down and looked into your eyes, searching for any signs of anxiety, and was relieved to see that you have calmed down a little.

“You’re my husband, Minho?” You finally saw Minho smile ear to ear for the first time that day.

“You remember! You remember me today!” He stood up, pulling you along with him, and twirled you around before giving you a soul-crushing hug.

Placing both his hands on your cheeks, he looked at you like you were the only person that mattered to him in this world. You noticed tears threatening to fall from his eyes and you pulled the sleeves of your cardigan over your knuckles and wiped them away.

Minho chuckled a little, before placing a small kiss on your forehead.

“Y/N ah, look what I got you!” Minho said excitedly as he pulled out a bouquet of little blue flowers from a paper bag.

“Forget-me-not,” both of you said at the same time.

You looked up at Minho and he looked so content, you couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe this wasn’t that bad of a dream, or so you thought.

It wasn’t until you went to sleep every day and you could not wake up from this dream, no matter how hard you tried. You woke up in the hospital every day and you didn’t know what to do. What if this was reality? You were scared and you just wanted to go home.

You were visibly anxious and scared when the nurse, what was his name again? Right, Jisung. Jisung came to check up on you when he heard some commotion coming from your ward.

When he walked in, he found you thrashing around, throwing all your belongings into a bag, and throwing cups and utensils onto the ground.

“Mrs. Lee! What’s wrong Mrs. Lee?”

Jisung tried to hold onto you but you were adamant about going home.

You scanned the room to check if you missed anything. Then you looked down and opened the cabinet right next to your bed and were shocked at what you saw.

There were hundreds of post-it notes stuck all over the cabinet.

You stretched your hand out and picked out one post-it note.

“I Love You, Y/N ah. I will remember you even when the day comes when you don’t remember me. - Minho”

You picked out another note:

“Y/N ah, today was our 40th wedding anniversary. You didn’t seem to remember me today, but I will remind you every day for the rest of my life if I have to, about how much I love you. I love you, Mrs. Lee Y/N! - Minho”

“Y/N ah, it’s been 3 years since I’ve brought you a bouquet of forget-me-nots every day, in hope that you will never forget me. Is it working? I think it is! Sometimes you even call me yeobo like you used to! I love you so much Y/N - Minho”

“Y/N ah, it's been so long since I have been living without you and I miss you so much. But I’m content with being able to see you every single day here. Please don’t forget me, Y/N ah. I love you - Minho”

You slowly placed the post-it notes back into the cabinet and looked up at Jisung.

He could tell that you were a little confused, so he sat you down on your bed before beginning to explain.

“Mr. Lee has been writing and leaving a note for you every single day for the past 3 years.”

He said while picking up the things you thrashed onto the ground.

“He has been visiting you every single day, no matter rain or shine. And he always brought you a bouquet of forget-me-nots” Jisung looked at you with a small smile.

“But why do I not remember him?” You asked, throat dry and tears trickling down your face.

“Mrs. Lee, you have Alzheimer's disease. The doctor thinks that it was an early onset triggered by your trauma from your miscarriages.” Jisung explained calmly.

Everything made sense from then on. The recurring dreams and the odd flashbacks that didn’t seem to be my memories. The sense of familiarity that Minho radiated, all made sense.

- Spring of 2023 -

You fluffed out your white dress and looked at yourself in the mirror before sitting down, letting out a nervous sigh.

"Y/N ah it's me, mom. Can I come in?"

"Yeah mom, come on in" You checked yourself for the last time before walking to the door.

"Oh my gosh, my beautiful baby! I can't believe you're already getting married!"

"Mom! Don't cry, you're making me cry!" you giggled while trying to hold in your tears.

Right then, the door opened and dad walked in and you caught the tears shining in his eyes.

"Oh god, not you too dad!"

When the time arrived for you to walk down the aisle, you nervously looked around for a mirror to check that everything was in place as you smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on your dress.

"Darling, relax," dad said while patting your shoulders.

"You know I never really liked any of your exes-"

"Dad!" you giggled, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"But I knew he was the right one for you since the first day I met him. So don't be nervous. He really loves you, Y/N ah"

Once the doors to the garden opened and you started walking down the aisle with your dad, you saw Minho in a clean black suit at the end of the aisle, and you started tearing up.

I love him so much, and I'm so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with him.

Minho saw you walk down the aisle and he covered his mouth with both his hands and started tearing up as soon as you did.

How did you two get so lucky to have found each other?

“I see these vows not as promises but as privileges: I get to laugh with you and cry with you; care for you and share with you. I get to run with you and walk with you; build with you and live with you.

I get to have you be the person I spend the rest of my life with. I get to be there for you and support you."

"In sickness and in health, till death do us part"

"I love you, Lee Y/N," Minho said, before placing the sweetest kiss on your lips.

- End of flashback -

There was a knock on the door before it slid open, and Minho stepped into the ward and greeted you.

"How's my Mrs. Lee doing today?" He smiled brightly before replacing the bouquet of forget-me-nots from yesterday with a fresh bouquet he brought.

You stood up and ran towards him, pulling him into a hug.

"Minho, I remember you. You're Minho, my husband Minho!"

Minho almost drops the flowers but he sets them aside and hugged you back.

"Y/N ah..." His voice cracked but you could tell that he was smiling.

You pulled away from the hug and looked down at your feet "I'm sorry, Minho"

Minho shook his head "Why're you sorry, baby?"

"For making you go through being forgotten by the love of your life every single day. I'm sorry, Minho." You finished your sentence with a sob.

Minho wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back into another hug.

"Y/N ah"

"Hmm?" You sniffed.

"Remember when you were first diagnosed with Alzheimer's? You said that you were scared of forgetting me. And remember what I told you?" Minho said while stroking your hair like he always did.

"You told me that you will be here for me, to remind me every single day for the rest of your life if you had to."

"And do you remember our wedding vows?" Minho cupped your cheeks and made you look at him.

"In sickness and in health, till death do us part."

"I love you, Lee Y/N, and I always will," Minho said, before placing a kiss on your lips.

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♡author’s note: That’s it guys! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic. ISTG i’ll write something more lighthearted soon lolol (or you guys can send in your requests anytime!) Stay safe wherever you are!♡ also if the year of the wedding and the wedding anniversary doesn’t add up i’m SORRY i can’t math sksksksksks

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

as the world caves in

masterlist | request

spencer reid x bau agent!reader

song inspo: as the world caves in - matt maltese (i highly recommend listening to this before or during reading to fully understand the fic)

summary: you’ve worked in the bau for almost a year now, but this is your toughest case to date. when the unsub puts you and spencer in a near death situation, the complex feeling of mortality causes you to bear your souls to one another

word count: 6k | warnings: no smut but it is typical criminal minds violence, plot centers around reader being held hostage by an unsub so there is tying up, reader getting hurt, etc. pls be cautious when reading if that makes you uncomfortable

Your head was pounding, the sound of phones ringing and private chatter ringing through your ears. You shakily poured a cup of coffee, closing your eyes momentarily as you tried to wake yourself up. You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was barely five in the morning. You yawned obnoxiously, assuming no one was around you. But when you heard a quiet snicker from behind, you knew immediately you were not alone. You spun around quickly to see Emily, waving as she set her bag down on her desk.

“Pretty early to be called in. Must be important,” she concurred, pouring herself a cup of stale FBI coffee as well.

“Do you ever get used to it?” You groaned, taking a long swig of the cheap coffee. You had doused it with milk and sugar to make it consumable, but it still left a nasty taste in your mouth with each sip. You knew you wouldn’t make it without caffeine, though, so you stomached it down.

“I’ve been here… five years, now? I can assure you it doesn't get easier,” she laughed. You had missed her laugh, when she was gone. She had become a wonderful mentor to you, and when you thought you lost her, you were shattered. Having her back has been enough to get you through the tough cases, which seemed to be escalating with each one.

“You know, next week is my one year anniversary with the BAU,” you smiled, excited of your first milestone with the team. The BAU was an exceptionally hard job, and many people didn’t make it as long as you had. It was something to be proud of.

“You’re kidding! Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you!”

You saw Hotch and Derek walk in out of the corner of your eye, deep in conversation. You were sure it was an important one, the look on Hotch’s face confirming your suspicions. They walked straight to the conference room, not even looking up to notice you and Emily. You gave Emily a look, and you were both thinking the same thing. ‘We better get our asses in there.’

You followed Emily into the room, Garcia getting the case ready to present. The rest of the team filtered in over the next few minutes, riddled with dark circles, cups of coffee and worry. There wasn’t much small talk made, everyone too out of it to pretend to talk about what they did last weekend.

“Good morning everyone, thanks for coming in so early,” Hotch addressed, standing up as he welcomed everyone. “We’ve got a bit of a weird case, today. Garcia, why don’t you go ahead and present.”

“Okay, my loves. This is a bit of a weird one, so strap in to keep up with me. A 21 year old female, Emily Davies, was abducted yesterday morning from the parking lot in her apartment complex. Now, the lot did have security cameras, but the unsub cut the internet cable and they can’t download the video until the can fix the wire.”’

“He’s smart, probably knew it would slow us down. And shows he has knowledge in wiring and electrics.” Derek added.

“Exactly. The police believe we should have the footage by the time we land. Now here’s where it gets weird. Two hours after she was abducted, there was a shooting at a gas station about 30 miles outside of the city, off I75. Three dead, including the worker. No cameras there, unfortunately.”

“How do we know it’s the unsub?” You questioned, failing to see the connection between the two crimes.

“Ah, my darling, if there wasn’t a connection we wouldn’t be called in. Our unsub left a note at this crime scene. It read, ‘They were going to take her. I couldn’t let them take her. She is mine, we are in love. Please, leave us be.’” Garcia then pulled up photos of the crime scene and the note on the monitor.

“These are clean shots, straight to the head, execution style,” Reid said, studying the photos on the screen.

“He knows how to use a gun, that’s for sure.” Rossi added.

“The 911 call was made by a customer who walked in to see the carnage about a half hour after the unsub left. They believe he is continuing to drive North, but we currently have no idea what him or his car look like.”

“If he didn’t kill again, he most likely stopped somewhere. He may be lowing low in a roadside motel to keep us off his trail,” Reid said.

“The gas station seemed unplanned. The abduction was thorough, leaving no evidence. But this scene is sloppy, and rushed. They must’ve seen Emily and panicked, and he shot em. This was never part of the plan, and now he’s freaking out.”

“That’s a good point, Emily’s face is all over the news now. He’d need a place to rest for a bit until he can come up with the rest of his plan. How exactly did people discover that Emily was missing?” You asked, curious about the rest of the unsubs plan.

“Well, it was actually kind of a fluke, but very helpful for us. Her boyfriend, Michael Adams, discovered she was gone when he came home early from work. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another six hours, but something had happened and they sent him home. He called 911 when he realized her phone, keys, and bag were all at home but she was nowhere to be found. They aren’t sure exactly what time she went missing, but at that point Michael had only been gone for two hours.”

“This guy had to have been stalking her. He knew to take her on a day she’d be alone for hours, he knew to cut the wires for the security cameras… this was meticulously planned,” Derek responded.

“Except what he didn’t plan for was the boyfriend getting home early, and Emily’s face plastered everywhere. He thought he’d have more time to get away,” JJ added.

“If he truly doesn’t want to be separated from her, it’s only a matter of time before he kills again. Anybody that gets in their way will die, if we don’t stop him. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch instructed, dismissing you all as you separated to prepare for another trip.

You lingered in the conference room for a moment, staring at the photos on the monitor. An uncomfortable feeling floated through you, chills up your spine as you stared at the crime scene. It was far tamer than most things you’d seen during your time here, but something about it made you uneasy. Spencer had noticed you staying back, and he stayed in the room as well. Once everyone cleared out, he cleared his throat to let you know he was there. You turned to him, not sure if you should tell him how you felt or not. Was it weak to say you were nervous?

“You okay?” He asked calmly, his eyes avoiding yours as he waited for your answer.

“I… just have a bad feeling about this case. Does that ever happen to you?”

“Mmm, yes.” He chuckled slightly, running a hand through his hair. “And usually, I’m right.”

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The plane landed in Cincinnati only a few hours later, cars awaiting to take you to the police station upon arrival. You were grateful to hear that they were able to pull the security footage from the lot Emily was abducted, and it was ready to be viewed when you arrived at the station.

You got in a car with Derek and Spencer, a duo that you usually tried to avoid. Derek always joked with you and Spencer that the two of you had a crush on each other. Although it was slightly true on your part, and your heart did race every time Spencer walked into a room, it was embarrassing to see Spencer so confidently deny any feelings for you.

But, Hotch sent the three of you to the station, instructing you to study the security tapes. The rest of them were going to talk to the boyfriend and visit the crime scene. You sat awkwardly in the back seat, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to say anything that would entice Derek.

“Judging by the way he worded this note, our unsub is most definitely in love with Emily. Do you think she knew him?” Spencer turned to you, and then to Derek, waiting for someone to respond.

“It’s impossible to say. There was no sign of forced entry in the apartment.” Derek responded.

“They think she was taking her trash out when she was abducted. Explains why she left all of her things inside, and the door was unlocked,” you added, wanting to be a part of the conversation. Although it had been almost a year, you still felt like you had to constantly prove yourself when you were with them.

“Even if she knew him, you wouldn’t get in someone's car without your phone, or wallet. He had to have had a weapon,” Derek said.

“The gun he used to kill everyone in the gas station, probably,” Spencer muttered. You all stayed silent for the rest of the drive, your brain taking a quiet moment to think through the details of the case.

The police station wasn’t too far from the airport, and you got there pretty quickly. You always felt so small in the police stations, usually dealing with male detectives or sheriffs or cops. You felt like you’d drown in testosterone, and everyone would be so busy in a dick measuring contest that they couldn’t save you. As you walked into the station, you were greeted by yet again another male detective who reeked of desperation and Viagra.

“Hi, I’m Detective Elijah Guthrie. Thank you so much for coming.” He shook all of your hands, welcoming you into his station.

“Where do you have the security tapes set up?” Reid asked quickly, realizing the urgency of this case, and that we didn't have time for small talk.

“Conference room. Everything you said you needed is set up there, as well.”

“Awesome, we should go get started, then,” Derek smiled, leading the three of you into the room.

You all sat down and watched the tapes, replaying them over and over to catch every detail that you could. Luckily, the unsub cut the wires after he took the girl. It seemed sloppy, on his end. He had to know eventually that we’d get the footage. But he was smart enough to make sure his face was nowhere in view. Although, his car was still in view, and you were able to pull a plate number.

“Garcia, baby girl, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. What can I do for you, my sweets?”

“Run a plate for us. Ohio plates, number EUE 8561.”

“Of course, give me uno momento....” You could hear the sound of Garcia typing away, finding the mysterious man. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if any of these cases would get solved without her.

“Alright, I got your man. 24 year old Jacob Lane.” “Are we sure our unsub didn’t just steal this guy’s car?”

“Good point, Garcia check to see if Jacob has any connection to Emily.”

“Gotcha… oh, man. Looks like he grew up in the same town that she did.”

“Well, that’s suspicious,” Derek responded, raising his eyebrows. “Alright, thanks baby. Try and dig up some more on this guy.” He hung up the phone, staring at the paused video in front of him.

“(Y/N), you call Hotch and give him the update. There’s a good chance this guy’s our unsub. Reid, call JJ and have her ask the boyfriend if they knew this guy.” You and Reid both looked at each other and nodded, standing up and walking into the hallway to complete your tasks. You dialed Hotch’s number swiftly, listening to the ringing as you awaited him to answer.

“Hotchner,” he answered, sternly.

“Hey, it’s me. I think we got our guy- Jacob Lane. The car that Emily got into was registered to him, and he grew up in the same town as her. Garcia is digging up some more info, and Reid is on the phone with JJ, gonna see what we can get from the boyfriend.”

“Alright, well we’ve just been informed there was another shooting. This time at a motel not too far from the gas station. We’re gonna head there, now.”

“How many, this time?” You asked, dreading the answer.

“Six. Doesn’t look like anybody made it out.”

You stayed silent, your head spinning as you thought of six more dead bodies, six more grieving families.

“Thanks, Hotch.” You hung up your phone, walking back towards Reid and Derek.

“Detective Guthrie just told me there’s been another shooting,” Derek said to you, unaware if you had been informed.

“Yeah, Hotch just told me. We have to get this guy before he does this again.”

“Unfortunately, most cases with spree killers like this end in hostage situations, and eventually suicide by cop. Spree killers' motivations are usually very similar.” Reid stated, his voice emotionless as he rattled off his facts. He was obviously right, and you felt sick as you thought of standing face to face with this man,

“I’m gonna go talk to Emily’s parents, see if they knew anything about Jacob. You guys stay in here and go over everything we have so far, see if we missed anything.”

“Alright. Thanks, Derek.”

He left the room quietly, walking out to find the family. You started looking over the video again, straining your eyes to see if you could make out any overlooked details. But it was the same every time, there was nothing new to report. You were angry, not feeling any closer to catching this guy.

“What do you make of this?” You asked Spencer, hoping his genius brain would come up with an explanation yours couldn’t.

“He loves a girl, tries to take her away with him, gets caught and panics, starts killing anybody that calls him out. It’s pretty straight forward. Although, the way he’s killing them is unique. The actual crime seems rushed and panicked, but the killings themselves and calm and exact. One shot, the same place. It’s too… perfect.”

“He’s killed before,” you concluded, feeling your heart racing as you thought of more victims at the hand of Jacob.

“Yes, but most likely in the military. These are execution style deaths. This M.O. is very specific to military personnel.”

“And you would be correct, boy genius,” Garcia shouted through the speaker on the desk, her voice scaring you slightly. “Jacob Lane was in the Air Force. He was deployed once to Iraq, he got back about six months and was recently relocated to Cincinnati.”

“So something must’ve happened between Emily and Jacob in the past, and when he moved back and saw her again, it must’ve been the trigger. Topped with PTSD, he could’ve easily snapped.”

“What exactly did he do in Iraq?”

“Ah, that is classified information, according to the US government. But no worries, nothing is too classified for me. Our buddy Jacob executed war criminals during his time overseas.”

“Well, that explains the M.O.,” you chuckled, running a hand through your hair, shaking your head in disgust.

“Other than that, he had a relatively normal life. Average in school, normal family. He bounced around colleges a bit before deciding to enlist, but there’s no red flags.”

“Could you find any other link between him and Emily?”

“Well, that’s the other thing. Jacob deleted all of his social media accounts when he got back from Iraq. Twitter, Instagram… everything, gone. But, just because he deleted it does not mean the record doesn’t exist somewhere. I am currently trying to unlock all of his accounts and see if I can find anything, but it’ll take a bit.”

“Alright, Garcia, call us if you get anything. Thank you,” you replied, disconnecting the call. Spencer had stepped away for a moment, answering his phone.

“If this guy had a perfectly normal life, why is he doing this?” You asked, your nails digging into your palms in frustration.

“The military… doing what he did… it could mess a lot of normal people up. Plus, there may be more to the story than we know.”

“Yeah, there is. Listen to this,” Spencer said, walking into the room and putting his phone on speaker.

“Hey, it’s me,” JJ said, her voice flowing softly through the phone. “So we talked to the boyfriend, and there is a long history between Emily and Jacob. They met when she was 18, and they were both dating different people. They had apparently had an affair of sorts, though, leading Jacob to break up with his girlfriend for her. But apparently Emily decided to stay with her boyfriend and ditch Jacob. That’s when he joined the military. Before he left for training camp, Emily’s boyfriend committed suicide. Blamed Emily and Jacob for ruining his life.”

“Jesus…” you muttered under her breath.

“Well, it gets more interesting. Emily picked up and moved to Florida, after that, transferring to a college down there. She was apparently trying to start over. Her and Jacob didn’t talk for two years, but he was relocated to the same town she was in, and they met up again. They started dating, and that’s when he got deployed. About a month after he left, Emily claimed he started acting really weird, to the point where it was scaring her. She broke up with him and blocked him on all social media.”

“The boyfriend knew all of this?”

“She told him because apparently she was afraid of Jacob. She told her boyfriend that if something ever happened to her, she was sure it was Jacob.”

“Why wouldn’t he have mentioned something sooner?”

“He didn’t think it was a big deal. Plus, until two weeks ago, he was living in Florida.”

“Exactly. And he got moved here, found out Emily was here and had a boyfriend, and that was probably the trigger.”

“What I don’t understand is how Emily just… dropped him? She was clearly terrified of him, what could he have possibly done to give her that reaction?”

“He could have told her what he was doing down there. That job is not for someone with a soft heart. She probably couldn’t stomach the thought of being with a man who…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your mouth choking up your words as they tried to come up.

“We need to make a statement to the press. The public needs to know who to look for.”

“I’ll call the media and put together a press conference. I’ll see you guys soon.” JJ hung up, and Spencer put his phone away. The three of you stayed silent for a moment, staring at each other in awe as your minds wrapped around the information. Part of you felt bad for him. He joined the military to get away, and they stuck him in a job that ruined his humanity. And the girl you love turns away from you when you need her most…

“The hardest part of the job is not to feel bad for the unsubs,” you laughed, your mouth dry and your forehead sweating as you felt more and more anxious about the future of this case.

“It’s refreshing, actually. To see someone else with enough empathy to feel for someone who has done so many bad things. It’s a sign of a beautiful heart,” Spencer said, his eyes meeting yours as he spoke. You smiled at him, redness creeping up your cheeks as you felt your nerves tingling at his words.

“Oh, I’m sure Spencer thinks about your beautiful heart all the time, (Y/N),” Derek teased, causing Spencer to blush as well, and quickly dart his eyes away from you.

“No… c’mon Derek. Why do you have to turn everything into this? Can’t I just be nice to her!” Spencer groaned, pushing Derek slightly on the arm in frustration.

“We’ve got a problem,” Det. Guthrie yelled, bursting through the door of the conference room and, thankfully, interrupting Derek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Emily escaped. She just walked into the police station.”

“How is that a problem?”

“Because Jacob just shot up another place. A diner, this time. We just got the call a minute ago. We’re only a few minutes away. He must’ve come back to the city after Emily got away.”

“(Y/N), you and Reid go to the crime scene. I’m going to stay here and talk to Emily.”

“Alright, we’ll leave now, call us if you need anything.”

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The drive was quick, helped greatly by the use of your sirens. You sped quickly to the diner, you and Reid the first to arrive on the scene. The witness who had called it in greeted you with sobs, not having time to console her as the two of you went quickly inside. The scene was similar to the previous ones, eight bodies, all shot directly in the center of the head. You noticed something wrong, pretty quickly.

“Reid…” you whispered, staring quietly at a table next to you.

“What’s up?”

“Do you see that?” You pointed helplessly to a small plate accompanied with an ever smaller cup, stars and smiley faces printed onto it.

“That’s a kids meal.”

“There’s not a kid in here, Reid.” You looked at him nervously, your whole body burning as you imagined the child that Jacob took.

“There’s a note here, (Y/N)...” Reid handed a crumpled napkin with a sloppy note written across it.

“Is it an address?”

“It’s definitely the unsubs handwriting. I studied the previous note, there’s no doubt he wrote this.”

“This address is only a few minutes away…”

“We need to leave, now. I’ll call Hotch and tell him to send backup.” Reid ran out of the diner and to the car, and you followed behind quickly. Other cops were now pulling in to the crime scene, and you let them know you were leaving but to stay with the bodies and take care of calling the families. You still weren’t sure who in there had a kid, and you wanted to notify the rest of the family if you could.

You and Spencer called Hotch in the car, letting him know where you were headed. He told you him and Rossi would be there in twenty minutes or so. Spencer was swerving in and out of traffic, trying to get to the location the unsub left for you. When you finally arrived, you were surprised to find a secluded barn near a small patch of land. You pulled up and got out of the car, arming yourselves as you got near the building.

“We should wait for backup, Reid… this could be a trap…” you said with caution, a wave of nerves flooding you as you stood in front of the building.

“He could have a little kid in there, (Y/L/N)... we have to go in.”

“Spencer, you know that’s not the right protocol.”

“When has protocol ever done us any good?”

Spencer starting walking towards the door, and you couldn’t bear to see him go in alone. You followed reluctantly, walking through the open door. As soon as you walked through the doors, you saw him. The face in the photos was finally right in front of you, holding a small item in his hands. You couldn’t make out what it was, you were too focused on the boy, who was tied to a chair next to him.

“Hello, agents. Thank you for joining me,” Jacob said, smiling devilishly at the two of you.

“You need to let the boy go, Jacob,” you instructed, your voice remain quiet and calm and your mind spun in circles.

“That’s not how this is going to go. Do you know what this is?” He waved the device in his hands, smiling down proudly at it. You knew then exactly what he was holding in his hands.

“It’s a bomb…”

“Exactly. And if I don’t get exactly what I want, it’s going to detonate. Are we clear?” He looked at you specifically, as if he was nervous you would be the one to try and defy him.

“Yes,” Spencer answered for you, looking upset as he realized you were right. This was a trap, one that the two of you walked so easily into.

“Put your weapons down, first,” he instructed, pointing at your guns. The two of you placed them down on the ground slowly, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Wonderful. Now, I want you to call your boss and tell him I would like to speak with him.”

You nodded in agreeal, slowly pulling out your phone. You dialed Hotch’s number, your hands shaking as you pressed the buttons. Your heart felt as if it was going to explode, bringing the phone to your ear as you listened to it ring.

“We’re almost there, what’s going on?” His voice made you feel safe, calm, knowing he would get you out of there safely. He had to get you out. You couldn’t die… not here… not now.

“Hotch, we’re here with Jacob, and he’d like to talk to you,” you said shakily, your voice trembling as you got the words out.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

You handed Jacob the phone, which he ripped out of your hand and placed to his own ear.

“Listen carefully. I want her back. I want a plane out of here for both of us, or I blow the kid and your two agents up? Is that understood?” You strained hard to see if you could hear Hotch’s voice, but you couldn’t make anything out. You looked over to Spencer, who was staring helplessly at the ground.

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of Jacob’s conversation with Hotch, not wanting to hear his voice anymore. It was you sick to think about him. When he finally finished, he threw the phone back at you. He walked up to you, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your face back to look at him.

“It would be a shame to kill you… You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, smiling down at you. He pulled hard on your hair, knocking you to the ground with all of his force. You slammed onto the dirt hard, feeling your body jolt as you landed. You felt pain shoot through your body, screaming loudly.

“Don’t touch her again!” Spencer yelled, running towards him violently. Jacob pulled a gun and pointed it at his head, which made him stop in his tracks.

“Don’t take another step. Since you want to be her knight in shining armor so bad, why don’t you go ahead and tie her up,” Jacob instructed, pointing the gun at a pile of rope in the corner. Spencer walked slowly over to it, grabbing the rope and tying your hands behind your back. As he tightened the knot, he whispered to you quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words bouncing back and forth in your head as Jacob pushed you to the ground and continued to tie up Spencer. After he finished, he sat Spencer next to you. He had put the two of you in the corner, out of sight and mind. You were aggravating Jacob, you could tell. If he could just tie you up and place you in the corner, he wouldn’t have anything to throw him off.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered, looking concerned at your now bruising body.

“A little sore, but I’ll be fine. What are we gonna do here, Spence?”

“The team will get us out, okay. I promise.”

You watched Jacob on the other side of the room, pacing slowly as he awaited another call that would give him his demands. You started to hear the sound of sirens pull up, feeling slightly relieved knowing they were right outside those walls. The sound of helicopters overhead was prominent, and you noticed Jacob wincing as it got louder.

“Does the sound of helicopters bother you?” You shouted to him, trying to get his attention away from the boy.

“Shut up! Do I need to tape your mouth shut, too?” He was aggravated, waving his gun around and placing a hand on his head.

“My dad was in the Army… helicopters reminded him of his time overseas. He’d have a panic attack every time he heard one…” You said, trying to relate to him. If you couldn’t use force to bring him down, maybe you could sympathize with him.

“It’s just so loud…” he winced, closing his eyes as if all of his senses were betraying him.

“Let me talk to my boss, if he knew how much they hurt you I bet he’d call them off…”

Jacob considered your proposal for a moment, the idea of the pain going away calling to him. But he was smart, and realized quickly what was going on.

“Are you trying to trick me? Do you think you can outsmart me? I have been ahead of you this entire time.”

“Except you didn’t plan on Emily’s boyfriend coming home early, and you didn’t plan on her escaping, did you? None of this was a part of the plan.” Spencer looked at him desperately, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and feel him holding you. If you were to die here, today, it would be nice to die in the arms of someone you cared about. You desperately craved his touch, especially now. Who knows if this would be your last chance to experience him?

“All I want is for me and Emily to be together, okay? Don’t you get that? Have you ever been in love?”

“I have… and I know how much you love Emily. But if you kill us, you’ll be killing yourself, too. And then Emily will never get to hear how you really feel. Because that’s what all of this is about, right? You just want her to know how you feel?”

“I told her everything. I bore everything to her and she walked away. It… hurt.” Jacob was crying, tears crawling down his face as he shook the gun in his hand.

“I don’t want to die without telling the girl I love how I feel. I know you don’t, either, Jacob. We can all walk out of here and you can see her again.” Spencer looked at you, his eyes pleading for your attention as he spoke.

“I don’t want to get locked up, I can’t live like that…” Jacob continued to cry, and you desperately wanted to give him a hug. He was evil, and you despised him, but he was broken and alone and needed a hug.

“No, no. I am not letting you talk me into this… you both shut up and leave me alone!” He yelled, running away from you and back to the young boy. You let out a long sigh, feeling your own tears starting to form. You really thought you might’ve had him this time. But he was too smart, and he wouldn’t fall for any of your tricks.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should be able to save you, and I can’t…” Spencer was pale, his forehead sweating as he leaned against the wall.

“Spencer, don’t apologize. It is nobody's job to take care of me, except myself.”

“I don’t want to die in here without telling you how I feel, (Y/N).”

“What are you talking about, Spence?”

“I am crazy about you. I have been in love with you for months. And every time I think I might want to say something, Derek makes some stupid joke and you get awkward and I realize if I say anything I’d risk our friendship but I’m sorry, I can’t die here with you and not tell you I’m in love with you.”

“Spencer…” was the only thing you managed to get out. You opened your mouth to try to say more, but the sound of your cell phone ringing stopped you. Jacob ran quickly to the phone, picking it up and placing it on speaker. He looked at you to make sure you were listening. He wanted you to know your entire lives depended on whatever happened on this one phone call.

“Jacob?” A small female voice came on the line, one that you had not recognized. “Jacob, it’s me, it’s Emily.”

“Emily!” He cried, placing a hand over his heart as he heard her voice.

“Jacob, I am right outside for you. I promise we can walk away together if you just leave your weapons inside and come out.” You could hear the pain in her voice and she said those words, knowing how hard it must’ve been for her to do this. But she was the only thing that could end this, that could save four lives. She didn’t have a choice.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You ran away from me, Emily!” Jacob cried into the phone, his voice shaky and his face swollen from tears.

“I have always loved you, Jacob. I have told you everything. You have to believe me. I’m right on the other side of the door. Put down the weapons and show them you’re unarmed, and we can walk away together.”

You watched him closely, patiently waiting for his response. You had never been a religious person, but you prayed to whoever was listening that you could walk away from this.

“Spencer… if we don’t make it out, I want you to know I love you, too. And if we do get out of here, please take me far away from here,” you cried, leaning your head on his shoulder and begging the universe for your life. He kissed the top your head, a small comfort that calmed you down. You watched Jacob slowly look over at the two of you, staying as close as you could, savoring love even in the last moments of your life.

You think it was that moment, him seeing two people in love and remembering what it felt like, that caused him to walk out. He slowly set the gun down, and another small device that you believed was the detonator. He walked through the doors, the sound of a bullet crunching through the air immediately as he stepped outside. You heard the screams of a girl, who was probably dealing with love and loss and pain all in one second, watching the man she loved and feared dying in front of her own eyes.

SWAT and the Bomb Squad came in shortly after, JJ and Derek running in to find the two of you. Emily and Rossi took care of the child as the other two untied you. They walked you outside, JJ pulling you far from Spencer and into an ambulance.

“JJ, I promise I’m fine, but I really need to go see Spencer…” You tried to stand up and walk past her, but you were a little dizzy and she pushed you back down pretty quickly. You saw Spencer arguing with Derek as well, probably for the same reason you were trying to push through JJ.

“Can I take your blood pressure, Agent?” The paramedic said, holding up an arm band and trying to wrap it around you. You angrily refused, finally getting on your feet and walking away from JJ. She realized it wasn’t worth chasing you down, that you would get checked out when you were good and ready.

You ran towards Spencer, who was still being blocked by Derek. You pushed passed cops and paramedics and everything in between, your eyes only on the man you loved. The man who loved you. When you finally got to him, he wrapped his arms around you in relief. He held you for a moment, before letting go and kissing you. It was a kiss full of life, celebrating existence and love.

“Hah, friendly my ass…” Derek whispered, rolling his eyes as he walked away from the two of you.

“Take me away from here, Spencer Reid.”

“Wherever you wanna go.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

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Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

@berrynarrybanana

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #har #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #I DID IT #I sat down and wrote it #and it took forever #and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent #one direction fanfiction #not my gifs #my writing #I love you h #you get me #my writings

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Text

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future.

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK.

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post.

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Part 3: These Violent Delights

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #yandere alec #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #request #volturi #dark themes

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity ♥️

Taglist: @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @clone-rambles

______________________

The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain.

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey.

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death!

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements.

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now.

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground.

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out.

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough.

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain.

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return.

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier.

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it!

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively.

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm.

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you.

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged.

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages.

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever.

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd.

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self.

"I'm just stretching..."

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen.

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead.

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme.

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow.

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons.

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all.

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while.

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later.

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group.

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles.

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear."

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?"

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right.

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom.

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore.

It didn't change the fact that it was hard.

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand.

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not."

"Break your hand?"

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child.

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black.

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays.

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist.

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated.

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet.

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies."

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck.

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner.

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore.

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out.

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge.

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost.

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar.

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister.

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do.

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket.

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free."

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief.

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace.

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world.

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do.

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world.

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick.

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected.

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas.

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground.

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him."

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true.

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain.

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-"

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away.

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze.

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually.

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand.

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity.

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together.

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder.

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat.

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with.

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back.

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship.

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory.

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position.

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group.

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally.

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer.

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs.

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle.

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot.

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you.

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping.

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast.

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before.

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs."

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then.

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter.

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice.

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N."

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally.

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it.

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better.

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile.

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow.

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot.

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed.

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology.

"We'll know it now."

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly.

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face.

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form.

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward.

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others.

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome.

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed.

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter.

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat.

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed.

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact.

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill.

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention.

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?"

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important.

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening.

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!"

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could.

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him.

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat.

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet.

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath.

They all believed it.

#bad batch x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #star wars #clone wars #good night good luck #sergeant hunter #angst

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