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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years ago

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Sweet As Pie (Beau Arlen)

Pairing: Beau Arlen X F!Reader

Summary: Beau has a crush on you, so with a bit of help from Jenny, he asks you out.

Warnings: Bit of language, this is literally candy cane fluff

WC: 1.9k

A/N: I meant it when I said I was gonna write for beau. He's so sweet, I adore him. Might or might not write some more for him, depends how this does. What can I say, I'm in my jensen era. Enjoy the pure fluff, you usually don't get this from me. I'm gonna proceed to disappear for another 3 months now.

Note if you're seeing this for a second time, yes, I am reposting this. I had some issues with the tags/dash and it wasn't showing up at all. So I'm trying again. Fingers crossed. No changes tho.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

“You’re so into her.”

“I am not.” Even he grimaced at that, his eyebrows furrowed and he pulled his lips into a pout of disapproval, who was he kidding, he knew Jenny was right. But it wasn’t like he could say that out loud.

When he pulled his ass halfway across the country after his daughter and ex wife, the last thing he expected was to fall for the owner of the local bakery—you. But who wouldn’t? When he met you he was absolutely speechless. The bright smile on your lips, your welcoming attitude, your pretty eyes and your sweet words, they left him flustered. And then he tasted one of your pies, and he knew he was absolutely entranced by you.

Beau Arlen had a crush on you. Big time.

He thought he did a pretty good job at hiding it, but after you stopped by the station to drop off a freshly baked cherry pie for him, Jenny caught on. That and the fact that he would not shut the fuck up about you. That was a pretty big tell too. But he thought he was being pretty casual, or at least you seemed to think so, in your clueless nature since apparently it was pretty obvious the sheriff had a bit of a thing for you.

“Really?” Jenny raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, clearly unimpressed. Beau opened his mouth to argue, but quickly realized he had nothing to say, so his lips quickly fell into a line and he shook his head, pretty much running away from Jenny and her persistent stare as he walked into the station.

He had hoped she would leave him alone about it, that some criminal would change her focus, but much to his dismay, she followed him and she had this knowing look that reminded him of when a mother knew her son had a crush on the pretty girl at school. And at his age, he absolutely did not like that idea at all.

“Okay, can you not?” He finally stopped and turned around to look at her, only to find that look intensifying along with a small grin and her hands on her hips.

“What?”

“Can you not look at me like that?”

She had to hold back a laugh, “Like what?”

Beau rolled his eyes, his head falling to the side with annoyance as he let out a sigh, “Like you know some embarrassing secret.”

“Well it’s not a secret, you like her, and everyone has noticed by now.” She pointed out with a shrug like it was a simple fact. Beau once again opened his mouth to argue, but his lips simply parted, no actual rebuttal coming out, which only made Jenny snicker even more. “See, for once in your life you’re actually speechless.”

“Y’know what,” He clicked his tongue, not wanting to be ridiculed further, “I don’t think this is somethin’ we should be discussing at the station. We actually have work to do, y'know, catch criminals and whatnot, so if we could just drop the subject.” He made a gesture with his hand, hoping the shade of pink that he could feel dusting across his freckled face wasn’t noticeable.

“You know, considering how much you love to talk, one would think you would’ve asked her out by now,” She continued, earning her a small glare from Beau, which only made her chuckle. “She’d probably say yes, she’s so into you.”

Beau opened his mouth to disagree, but quickly closed his mouth when the words sunk in. He stood still for a second as he contemplated the idea of you actually liking him, as more than just a friend that was. He thought about the way you would smile at him whenever he talked to you about his daughter, the way you would burst into this cute giggle when he complimented your sweet touch, or how your eyes always seemed to light up when he would walk into your bakery. He thought about it. He smiled at the idea. But then again, you were sweet by nature, so maybe all of those things were just that, your sweet nature and nothing more right? He would just be making a fool of himself by asking you out. Surely, someone as pretty as you was already spoken for. Somehow he hadn't dared to ask.

“She’s not into me. We're just friends. Just like you and me are friends, and just how Cassie and I are friends. There’s nothin’ more to it.” He finally responded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Jenny. But you didn’t need detective skills to know he didn’t believe that, and neither did she.

“You don’t look at Cassie or me the way you look at her, and she sure as hell doesn’t look at other people the way she looks at you. I’m not blind, I’ve been around you two.” She pointed out, now her hands folded over his chest and her head tilted. “Just ask her out. It’s that simple.”

Beau mimicked her stance from a few second ago, his hands on his hips as he leaned down to speak to her level, “That ain’t gonna happen. I’m not asking—” As soon as your name slipped from his tongue, he immediately regretted it because a second or two later, he heard the gentle sound of your voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know you were there, he could just tell it was you, the sound of your voice and your sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent being ingrained in his brain by then.

“You’re not asking me what?” You asked with curiosity and a bit of confusion, having walked into the station a minute prior and having found Jenny and Beau having a conversation, his back to you.

“Jesus,” Beau breathed out, his face now turning a shade of red as he turned around to face you, but even then he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his pink lips at the sight of you, he couldn’t help the way his chest pounded either. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘round here. How’re you doin’ sweetheart?” Despite the fluttering in his stomach, his charm was always ever so present, and especially knowing just how flustered he made you, and this time it was no different.

“I’m good. I just, y’know, I was testing my new chocolate pecan pie recipe and I thought that maybe you would want to try some?” You bit your lip, motioning to the styrofoam box in your hand. He hadn’t even noticed that. His focus was completely taken by the pretty sundress that fell just above your knees and the glow that radiated over your face, your eyes lighting up with that look he absolutely adored. “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve called first, I thought about you.. That you would really like this pie, ‘cause you like pie and all.”

“Oh, wow, well that’s awfully kind of you. Thank you,” He smiled, happily taking the box from you, his fingers grazing yours briefly, but it was enough to make you shudder a bit. “And don’t ever apologize for bringing me food, I’ll always welcome anythin’ you give me.”

A smile replaced the flustered look on your face and you nodded at him, eyes locking with his green ones as you looked up at him. Five, maybe ten seconds went by when you remembered that Jenny was just standing there watching your exchange with Beau. Your eyes landed on her and you laughed awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, hi Jenny. It’s nice to see you.” You said to her with a smile, which she welcomed, but she looked amused, even more so when she exchanged looks with Beau before she looked back at you.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you too. We were actually talking about you just now.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you tilted your head with curiosity, looking between her and the sheriff, “Oh? Nothing bad I hope.”

“Oh, no, no, of course not. Beau was just telling me that he wanted to ask you something.” Beau turned his head in her direction, eyes wide like they were going to pop out if their sockets and a flutter of pink dusted over his cheeks as his lips opened and closed a few times.

You looked between both of them a bit confused and nervous at the same time, “Oh. Okay, well, what's up?” You asked Beau with a small smile. But the blonde just stared at you, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Okay, I have work to do, so find me when you’re done,” Jenny said to Beau with a tiny grin before she looked at you, “It was nice seeing you.” She gave you a small nod before she disappeared down one of the hallways, leaving you and Beau.

He still hadn't said anything, which worried you since he always had something to say. “Beau?”

Beau was mentally cursing at himself, not understanding why he was having such a difficult time saying such simple words. Deep down he knew you liked him too, but he didn’t want to fuck this up too. He liked you too much, and he didn’t think he could handle anothet disappointment. But as his eyes found yours, always so sweet and so patient, not at all bothered by his indecisiveness, but more so curious and endearing, he just couldn’t keep the words in any longer.

“What the hell,” He let out a heavy breath, eyes closing for a second before he found your eyes again, his chest pounding and blood rushing to his ears, “Do you wanna go on a date sometime? With me?”

The words left his mouth so fast you barely understood what he was asking you. It took a good second or two for his words to actually sink in. He was starting to get worried and panic flashed through his eyes. And then you smiled, bigger than he had ever seen you smile.

“Yeah.” Was all you could say in a breath, a smile tugging at your lips.

Beau blew out a breath of relief, a smile of his own forming on his lips, “Yeah?”

You nodded a bit too quickly, “Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay, great.” He laugh softly, resting a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Now he was matching your slightly overbearing enthusiasm, but fuck, how could he not, you were an absolute dream. “How does tomorrow at eight sound?”

You bit your lip, tugging it under your teeth and you fiddled with the hem of your dress, thinking for a second before nodding eagerly, “Sounds great.”

“Eight it is then.” He chuckled, the smile on his lips so big wrinkles formed on the corner of his eyes, which you personally found absolutely adorable.

You chewed on your bottom lip, not being able to hide the smile on your lips as you took a step towards him, “See you at eight sheriff,” You giggled softly as you stood on the tip of your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the heat on his skin matching your own.

“See ya at eight darlin’” He called out after you as he watched you leave the station, the biggest smile on his face as he mentally thanked Jenny for embarrassing him, and just how much paperwork he was going to make her do for it.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen x you #beau arlen imagine #beau arlen #big sky

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lipstickstainz · 4 years ago

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true lies - s. r. (1/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: Spencer and you have your first encounter, after you left him a year ago. Spoiler: it doesn’t go well.

Warnings: angst, secrets, swearing I think, typical criminal minds stuff

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: tadaaaaa. it’s finally here! my first series! tell me if you liked it! love you! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

The first thing you notice is the complete silence that takes over the room. The last time you had been here, it had been crowded and so noisy that you could hardly understand your own words. People had been everywhere, talking or exchanging theories, but your gaze was fixed on the desk overflowing with books. Now there are only files, carefully sorted and stacked on top of each other.The office is empty, no agents, no witnesses. No one. You take a deep breath.

It's been some time since you've been here. Almost a year, but everything in this building is all too familiar to you. The coffee maker just waiting to be used in the kitchen. The law books gathering dust on a shelf. It feels like you've never been away.

"Y/N," a woman's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You have to tear your gaze away from the desk in front of you, and your eyes find a tired, yet incredibly good-looking Emily Prentiss standing outside her office door, smiling at you like you just saw each other yesterday.

"It's good to see you," you say, and she wraps you in her arms after she closes the office door behind you. It feels good to finally have her by your side again; after all, you had been best friends before you left. You hug her one last time before carefully pulling away from her and sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.

"It's good to see you, too," she replies, dropping into her chair. She places her hands on the desk and interlaces her fingers. "Of course, I'd love to know how you've been this past year, but I'm afraid that will have to wait." She opens a drawer to her right and reaches for a file-your personnel file, you realize-and lays it open in front of her. "I've been informed that my request has been approved and you'll be rejoining our team," she says, smiling briefly at you. "It took a favor, but you're well worth it to me."

Your stomach tightens at the thought of Emily owing someone. You swallow the sour feeling spreading down your throat and nod at her. "Thank you, Emily."

She tilts her head and her gaze slides from your face to your kneading hands. "You're not happy with this, it seems. What's wrong?" Emily doesn't need to profile you to know something is bothering you. She knows you too well to miss the change in your behavior.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," you confess.

"And why is that?" asks Emily, but she already knows the answer. She knows what happened a year ago, and she certainly knows more than you do, because she had been here for the last year, after all. Before you can answer her, the door opens and a colorful person comes in.

"Good morning, my beautiful and strong boss," the one and only Penelope Garcia speaks without looking up from her iPad. "We have a new case that I would like to discuss with you before the whole team arrives. It's about -" When Emily doesn't answer her, she looks up and her gaze immediately lingers on you. You're surprised she doesn't drop the tablet on the floor as she rushes toward you to yank you out of the chair and into her arms. "Y/N! What a relief for my tired brain to see your beautiful face! Am I dreaming?" She breaks away from you and gives Emily a look. "Please tell me I'm not dreaming. I couldn't take it."

A smile spreads across Emily's face. "You're not dreaming, Pen. Y/N is actually back."

"Oh, how wonderful!" she squeals, pushing her glasses back up with her index finger. While she says something else to Emily, you look at her. She really hasn't changed in the last year. She's still the colorful bird of the BAU, and that's a good thing.

You notice yourself starting to smile, but then she utters the thing that erases the smile from your lips. "How's Reid doing? Have you guys talked yet?"

Emily makes a hand gesture for Penelope to drop the subject, but your expression has instantly changed when she said his name. It stabs you in the heart and cold shivers run down your spine, and only with difficulty can you suppress the tremors that want to overtake your body.

"I'm afraid the team is already here," Emily interrupts the silence and casts a glance out the window into the open-plan office. Even if you want to follow her gaze, you don't dare and your body is still in rigidity. She gets up from her chair and walks towards the door, but before she opens it, she turns to you once more. "If you need more time, that's fine. Take all the time you need. But your place is here with us, Y/N. We're your family." And with that, she and Penelope leave the office.

She's right. The BAU is your family - even if you hadn't seen or spoken to any of the family members in the last year - and walking out now wouldn't change the situation. The circumstances under which you left - had to leave - were anything but normal, and you hope that your decisions would be met with understanding, but you can't count on that. So you tighten your shoulders, push through your back, and follow them into the conference room. Your heart beats up to your neck and your hands sweat as you stop on the doorstep.

Your gaze fixes on the youngest team member, except for you. His brown curls are a little shorter than they were a year ago, and it doesn't take you ten seconds to notice that it's not the Spencer Reid you know sitting at the table. The year had changed him. Your absence had changed him.

Rossi is the first to notice you, which is because he glances over his shoulder. "Who do we have here?" he asks playfully, before rising from his chair and taking you in his arms. But you're only peripherally aware of that. Your concentration is on Spencer, who stares at you unblinkingly before jumping up and storming out of the room. JJ, sitting next to him, reaches for him, but he wriggles out of her grip and he runs past you so fast that it's easy to call it an escape. JJ smiles weakly at you before putting her hand on your arm. She doesn't need to say anything, her look tells you that she's glad you're back, but you're also aware that she wants to take care of Spencer, so you nod at her and wordlessly she follows the genius of the team.

The rest greet you with great joy, Rossi presses a kiss on your cheek and Alvez puts his arm around your shoulders, but you look out the window and see Spencer and JJ talking. His face is red and even though you can't hear his words or read his lips, you know exactly what it's about. The blonde tries to calm him down, wanting to put her hands on his shoulders to make him stop shaking, but he avoids her and takes a step back. The gesture is enough, as she drops her arms and doesn't follow him either when Spencer leaves the bullpen. You know he won't be back in the next few minutes.

Garcia tells you about the case and you try to focus on her words as best you can, but again and again your mind wanders to Spencer. His reaction to your return is understandable and you don't judge him for it. You have no right to do so; after all, you are responsible for his condition. You hope that soon there would be a quiet moment when you could talk about the past, but you are not optimistic. He pushed JJ away from him a few minutes ago, which is definitely not a good sign. You try to push the thoughts of him to the back of your mind; after all, there's a case to solve, and although the current situation isn't ideal, you're looking forward to it. It's been a long time since you've worked properly.

"All right," Emily says, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Wheels up in thirty."

"Hey," JJ addresses you as you freshen up in the ladies' room. You glance at her in the mirror and she smiles at you. "Are you okay?" You both know this question is purely rhetorical. She is, after all, Spencer's best friend. Aside from the two of you, she probably knows best what's been going on, but still not everything.

You turn around and lean against the edge of the sink. "I'm trying to get used to everything," you reply, pursing your lips into a thin line. "It's changed quite a bit while I was gone."

She nods. "Yeah, it did." She takes another step toward you. "Look, you have to give him some time, all right? This year hasn't been very nice to him. I hope you can understand that." She sounds sincere and, above all, concerned, which is why you don't resent her little speech. Of course, you're already aware of all this, but hearing it from her confirms your suspicions.

You are to blame for Spencer's condition. And there's no way you can straighten things out anytime soon.

Spencer rejoins the team only on the plane, but he avoids your proximity or your glances at all costs. He takes the seat next to Alvez, which is almost at the other end of the plane, and he is completely silent. The others, of course, notice the tension that has spread through the group since your arrival, but they all have the decency not to bring it up. But by their manner they let you know that they don't stand between you. You had been gone a long time, and they know halfway what had been going on, but they didn't take sides, and for that you are infinitely grateful.

"Alvez, JJ, Simmons. You guys talk to the families. Find out if the victims share any common traits that might connect them," Emily says, dividing the team into focus groups as usual. She glances around the group. "Rossi, Reid, Y/L/N, you go to the coroner's office while -"

"No." It's the first word Spencer has uttered since you boarded the plane. You expected his voice to be weak or to reveal any other signs of uncertainty, but the word came from his lips in a firm tone, leaving no room for discussion. Spencer looks up from the paper file and before he looks at Emily, his gaze brushes yours and at the coldness in his eyes, your blood freezes in your veins.

"All right," Emily says without elaborating. "Alvez, you switch places with Reid. Tara and I will go to the local police department and talk to the detectives. Let's catch the killer."

To say the mood on the plane hit rock bottom would be an understatement.

Forensics helps you out a bit. The victims were drugged before they died, causing hallucinations, which is probably why they self-inflicted injuries. Also, both victims have the same cut wounds in the same place. Definitely not a coincidence. Alvez has Garcia dig up some information on the way to the police station, which is why you could briefly organize your thoughts, but Rossi tells you about a new dish he'd like to cook for you sometime, and you'd been gone too long to block out your work dad. Besides, your mind would only be on Spencer and that's not moving you forward either.

"According to the relatives, none of the victims were unpopular, loners, or even depressed," JJ begins as the team gathers. You take a seat in the chair facing Spencer. When he notices, he gets up and sits somewhere else. The main thing is to get out of your sight. You sigh imperceptibly, but Luke turns in your direction and raises an eyebrow. You shake your head.

It hurts that Spencer doesn't want to be near you. In fact, it almost breaks your heart, but you can get used to that. He should go ahead and hate you. You could handle that.

The day flies by and when the team checks into the hotel in the evening, Spencer grabs one of the keys and leaves without another word. Sadly, you watch him go and Emily puts a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. Eventually, it would get better. Later on, you sit on the bed with her and tell her about the year you've been away, the people you've met, things you've experienced, but each anecdote brings you back to the one topic that makes your heart skip a beat.

"You have to tell him, Y/N," Emily suddenly says seriously, and you shake your head.

"No." It sounds almost as harsh as Spencer on the plane, but there's still some pain hovering in the air with you. "I'm not going to tell him, Emily."

"He thinks you left him because he went to prison. In his mind, you basically left him at the altar," she tries to change your mind, but to no avail. She would not succeed. You had sworn to yourself that this matter would remain a secret, something you would both take to your graves. And you have no intention of breaking that vow. "You were engaged, for gods sake" Emily's tone sharpens. "Don't you think he deserves the truth?"

"I'm not going to tell him. It's for the best."

Emily looks at you incredulously, but also knows she can't change your mind. "Best for whom?"

That night, you lie awake, tossing from side to side but unable to find sleep. You don't feel guilty about what happened. You don't question your decisions you did back then. It was the right thing to do. It bothers you because of Spencer, because of his reaction to your return, because of his hostility. JJ had asked for your understanding and you would do anything to mend fences, but you're not sure that's Spencer's intention either.

After two hours, you get up and slip into sweatpants and a sweater before leaving your room. As if of their own accord, your feet carry you down the hallway, to a destination you shouldn't be going to. As you turn into the hallway where Spencer's room is, you stop, rooted to the spot.

JJ is standing on the doorstep to his room, saying something to him before he leans down and pulls her tightly into his arms. His hair is messy, and even from this distance you can tell Spencer is leaning on JJ with all his weight. You have to swallow. How much you want a hug from him.

JJ is the first to disengage, saying goodbye to him and disappearing in the opposite direction, while Spencer stops and watches her go. There is a small smile on his face and he looks more relaxed than he did earlier in the day. As he turns to go back to his room, his gaze lingers on you. The smile disappears and his body is tense to the breaking point.

Time seems to stand still. It feels like an eternity that you stare at each other without speaking a word, but there is so much coldness in Spencer's eyes, so much pain, that you can hardly stand it and want to look away. But you're transfixed. Your hand raises of its own accord, as if in greeting, and your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, Spencer takes a step back and slams the door behind him. Only then do you realize that you've been holding your breath.

next part

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @cloudybau

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #derek morgan #Emily prentiss #Jennifer jareau #david rossi #Penelope garcia

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etherrreal · 4 years ago

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“5:00am”

Pairing: ushijima x reader Genre: fluff Summary: looking back, you’re not sure what made you think that jogging with ushijima would end in anything but complete and utter disaster, but it’s too late to go back now WC: 5k Warnings: brief mentions of non-serious injury, a little blood, implied smut, too many paragraphs about ushijima’s hands A/N: first fic gang! this was supposed to be like 500 words but as the blog title suggests, i’m a liar -Dawn

You’re not sure what possesses you to go jogging with Ushijima at the ungodly hour of 5AM –and on a Saturday, no less– but here you are, tugging a windbreaker over your tank top and leggings while he waits for you by the door.

Most of it, you’re sure, is just because you miss him. The two of you have been so busy lately –you with your new job, him with the whole professional volleyball thing– so this is the first weekend in a while that you’ll actually be spending together.

It’s only natural that you want to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriend before your respective commitments are back to pulling you both in opposite directions, as they have more times than you’d like to admit in the past four months you’ve been dating.

Or maybe 5AM-you, lacking caffeine, sleep, and any sense of real judgment, is just losing your mind.

Ushijima certainly seems to think so, if the look he gives you when you volunteer to accompany him on his routine morning jog is any indication. He’s far from the most expressive person you’ve ever dated, but you’ve been with him long enough to register the surprise on his features; the way his pretty olive eyes widen a fraction and the way he pauses to watch you, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are.

“What?” you ask as you join him by the door, removing your slippers.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You hate running.”

“Running? Absolutely. Jogging, however, I think I can handle, especially if it’s with my handsome boyfriend who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with lately.”

With your slippers out of the way, you move to reach for your sneakers next. A quick glance in his direction confirms that he’s still giving you that same bewildered look, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It makes you falter as you pick up your sneakers, wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Now that you think about it, he does usually jog on his own. The two of you are no strangers to working out together –if him doing push-ups with you perched comfortably on his back counts as working out– but you’ve never actually joined him on a morning run before.

Is this something he prefers to do alone? Are you overstepping his boundaries by inviting yourself along before checking to see if it was okay? Suddenly, you find yourself wishing you would’ve asked first.

“Do you...not want me to go with you? Because if you’d prefer to go alone, that’s totally fine, I’ll just–”

He catches your wrist before you can put your sneakers back down, and the rest of your sentence is lost somewhere between the fingertips he presses against your skin and the other hand he uses to lift yours.

It’s almost criminal, you think, the way a single touch from him is enough to completely derail your train of thought, whatever you were babbling about suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. You think you shouldn’t be as phased by it by now, not after all the time you’ve spent together, but no such luck.

Really, it’s his hands that are the problem, now that you think about it. His hands, steady and calloused and strong, but still so undeniably gentle and patient when it comes to you.

It’s hard to pick your favorite feature of Ushijima’s when he looks the way he does –all tanned skin, broad shoulders, and chiseled abs– but his hands are pretty high up on your list. They have been from the moment you met him at Iwaizumi’s housewarming party last year.

You had obviously seen him before, though you never actually spoke to him until the party. It was mostly during high school volleyball matches between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa, courtesy of your childhood friendship with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

You remember spotting Ushijima and thinking he looked so serious and unapproachable, even more imposing than he did in the photos of him featured in that Monthly Volleyball magazine you used to watch Oikawa vandalize with ridiculous-looking mustaches and devil horns.

When you saw Ushijima at Iwaizumi’s party, he still looked serious, not to mention larger and even more intimidating in person, but his hands were warm and kinder than you were expecting, careful in the way they wrapped around yours when he introduced himself. It was only hours later when those same hands reached for yours again to help you off the couch that you realized you spent the whole night with him.

Now, months later, you’re standing with him in his stupidly expensive apartment, half-panicked that you might’ve overestimated his desire to spend time with you. But Ushijima’s hands are still steady and warm against your skin, even now, reassuring in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of.

“I’d love it if you joined me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, and if you weren’t smiling before, then you definitely are now.

You pull on his hand to tug him down towards you, a request that he silently obliges. You perch on your toes to reach him and deliver a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against his mouth. When you pull away to look at him, you find him smiling, too, in that soft and subtle way of his that you’re so glad he’s chosen to share with you.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he adds. “We’ll be running for a while, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re clumsier than most.”

Sadly, he’s not wrong. You are pretty clumsy, almost cartoonishly so. He’s watched you bang your leg on his dining room table practically every time you pass it, heard you curse to yourself after accidentally knocking down every item in his shower. At this point, holding your arm in his is as natural to him as breathing, just so he’s there to keep you from tripping over your own two feet.

And while you definitely appreciate the concern, you don’t think it’s entirely necessary, at least not for this. Sure, you have a bad habit of falling on your ass more often than not, but you’re also able to do so without sustaining any major injuries. You’re confident this time will be no different.

Besides, it’s just one jog. You’ll survive, even if your muscles might hate you for it later. Still, you know he worries about you, which is why you reach up to give him another quick kiss.

“Deal,” you assure him once you pull away. Then, you grin, voice taking on a more teasing edge as you look up at him. “As long as you promise not to be embarrassed when I leave you in the dust. You know, since I’m just so naturally athletic.”

Ushijima’s never been the best at detecting sarcasm, but with you, like so many other things, it’s different. He can tell you’re joking by the way you giggle and wink at him, and when he huffs out a quiet laugh, you smile and sit down to put on your sneakers.

He surprises you when he kneels to tie them for you before you get the chance to do it yourself.

“Careful, Wakatoshi,” you warn him, not for the first time. “If you keep being so sweet to me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me. You might just be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s fine,” he says, like he’s already considered the consequences before and has chosen to accept them. “You’re the only one I can imagine being with for that long, anyway.”

He moves on to tie the laces on your second sneaker, taking zero responsibility for the way his words make your heart flutter in your chest. He always does this: says stupidly romantic things with barely any prompting and absolutely no consideration or even awareness of the effect they have on you.

His voice doesn’t change when he says them, either. He uses the same blunt tone he always does, like it’s a simple fact, like he’s asking you to pass him his phone charger instead of alluding to a potential future with you.

It just makes you fall that much more in love with him.

Not that you’ve actually told him yet. You’re still waiting for the right moment. You wonder if maybe this might be it, but then he stands up and turns away from you to open the door and the opportunity is gone.

Maybe that’s for the best. This morning, you decide that you can handle jogging with your pro-athlete boyfriend or confessing your love for him, not both. The latter will just have to wait for dinner tonight, assuming you make it back in one piece and your legs don’t just fall off from the sudden exercise.

You stand up and follow him out the door.

Ushijima insists you both take the time to stretch before you actually start running, so you spend a few minutes doing so in the empty lobby. You pretend to struggle with a few of them, just so you’ll have an excuse to have his hands on you.

You’re almost positive he sees through your little ruse, if the amused look he gives you is any indication, but he doesn’t complain, guiding his hands over your body to help you bend and stretch like he can’t see the grin on your face.

Once you’re all warmed up, you’re ready to start jogging. You follow behind him as he leads you along his usual path down the block, the streets noticeably empty, save for the occasional passing car.

You know the only reason you’re able to keep up with him is because he’s slowing down for you, but you don’t let it bother you. He’s a professional athlete, after all, and you’re the kind of person who doesn’t even like to run to catch the bus, so it’s to be expected. Still, you give it your all, remembering to keep your breathing steady just like he taught you.

And you have to admit, your aversion to any sort of cardio aside, jogging with Ushijima is actually kind of fun.

For the first five minutes, at least.

Then it all goes to shit.

You’re not sure how it happens, either. One moment, everything is great. Sure, you’re already feeling a little sweaty, and maybe your lungs are screaming at you just a tiny bit –the price of inactivity, and all that– but you power through it because, in the words of so many great orators before you, mama ain’t raise no bitch.

But then you trip on something –a pothole in the street, your own foot, who the hell knows– and suddenly you’re wiping out for the entire world –or maybe just your boyfriend and that one stray cat you passed, which is still pretty embarrassing– to see.

Ushijima’s quite a few feet ahead of you now, because as much as he tried to slow down for you in the beginning, you figure he just can’t help but speed up a bit. He’s not the type to do anything half-assed, not even a casual morning jog. You’re almost grateful for it in a way, because it means he doesn’t actually see you trip and stumble like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.

He does, however, hear the yelp that escapes your throat, making him glance over his shoulder just in time to see you fall forward. He runs back towards you, but he’s too far to reach you in time, and your knees hit the pavement hard, your hands shooting out to catch yourself as best as you can.

You don’t even have to look to know that the skin on both your knees and your palms is scraped up. There’s also a shooting pain that starts at your ankle and darts right up your leg, reassuring you that you most definitely stepped on it wrong.

Ushijima is by your side in an instant, normally stoic face scrunched up with worry. He helps you twist yourself into a more comfortable position on the sidewalk, though it does little to ease your embarrassment or your annoyance with your own incoordination.

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not entirely the truth. Your palms are stinging and your ankle is throbbing, not to mention the fact that your knees currently resemble a cat’s scratching post. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

The look he gives you is doubtful, and you know for a fact he doesn’t believe you at all. “You’re bleeding.”

And holy crap, you are. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you, since you felt the entire thing, but the sight of the blood on your knees and palms still stuns you a bit.

“Come on.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up with ease you would normally marvel at if it didn’t make you feel so pathetic. “We’re going back. I’ll be able to treat your wounds and take a better look at your ankle.”

“Whaa– but we’ve barely even started jogging!” you protest, pouting despite the stinging of your cuts. “I told you that I’m fine, Toshi. I can still walk–”

You try to put pressure on the ankle you rolled and immediately wince. You almost stumble forward again, but this time Ushijima is there to catch you, holding you against him with his arms around your waist.

“No, you can’t. You need to treat your injuries, so stop being stubborn and let me help you. We’re going back.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyebrows drawing together in frustration –mostly at yourself– but stubborn as you are, you know he’s right. There’s no arguing your way out of this one, not that he would listen to you in the first place. He’s always been protective of you, which means he won’t be budging on this.

You heave a defeated sigh but nod at him anyway, relenting. He helps you hobble along with your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist for a few steps before he seems to think better of it.

In one fluid motion, he’s picking you up in his arms, holding you bridal style against his chest. And while normally his arms are one of your favorite places to be, the fact that he has to carry you like this all because you’re an idiot who can’t watch where you’re going is doing nothing to ease your already damaged pride.

You try to convince him to put you down and let you walk on your own, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t agree. Your face, which is already warm with embarrassment, just seems to heat up even more. Your mortification only increases when you spot his apartment building a few streets later.

God, the two of you were running for what, maybe five minutes? Six? And now you’re already back home? Talk about embarrassing. And right after you promised him to be careful, too.

The fact that the pothole –which you are now deciding to blame for your fall, because you don’t think your ego can handle anything else– had the audacity to trip you and then not immediately swallow you whole to save you this embarrassment is honestly disrespectful, at this point.

Ushijima was right earlier. You do hate running. And you hate yourself even more for believing that jogging at any hour –least of all 5AM– would end in anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Your only consolation is that it’s so early, chances are that no one else saw you trip and almost eat shit in the middle of the street. It’s the little victories that count, you suppose, though you might just have to burn this outfit later to rid yourself of the reminder. You’re not sure how you’re ever going to live this one down.

Thankfully, the universe seems to take some pity on you, since you don’t pass any of Ushijima’s neighbors in the lobby. He maneuvers you into the apartment, managing to close the door behind him and remove his sneakers without putting you down.

When he does finally let you go, it’s to place you delicately on his bed. He disappears from the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit and an ice pack, while you flop defeatedly onto your back against his pillows, pouting.

“I can’t believe I actually fell.” You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he sits beside you, but you still don’t move. “The one time I willingly decide to run, and this is what happens. We didn’t even make it past the supermarket!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone,” he says, opening the first aid kit. His voice is as straightforward as ever, but you know he’s trying to comfort you in his own way. “Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Worse than twisting my ankle and making a fool of myself five minutes in?” You shift to prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“You could’ve twisted your ankle and made a fool of yourself two minutes in instead.”

The bluntness of his response makes you snort, cracking a half-smile as you push yourself to sit up fully. “Good point.”

You watch as he gets to work, mesmerized by how careful he is with you. He takes your palms in his hands, wiping away the blood gently and cleaning the small scratches it reveals. The scrapes on your knees, which he moves to next, sting more, but he moves slowly enough that it doesn’t overwhelm you. He’s always taken such good care of you, and this time is no different.

After all of your scrapes are covered, he examines your ankle, which is unsurprisingly the worst of your injuries. When he helps you tug your sneaker and sock off, you can both see it’s already swelling.

It’s not broken, he assures you, but it is lightly sprained. You’ll need to rest and compress it until you’re ready to walk on it again, but the ice should help with the swelling. He lifts your ankle on top of a few pillows to keep it elevated, covering it with the ice pack.

He moves higher up on the bed to sit beside you against the headboard, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “How does that feel?”

“It still hurts, but it’s not as bad as before,” you answer. “Honestly, I think my pride is more damaged than anything else.”

You lean back against the pillows propped up on his headboard and sigh, unable to stop the guilty frown tugging at your lips. As grateful as you are for his help, you also feel really bad that he had to stop and take care of you at all.

If you hadn’t insisted on joining him on his run, then none of this would’ve happened. You would still have two normal-sized ankles, and he would be able to finish his run without having to worry about you and your chronic clumsiness.

“I’m sorry I ruined our jog,” you find yourself apologizing, fiddling with the hem of your shirt guiltily. “It was supposed to be cute and fun, but all I did was screw it up. I’m sorry you had to come back to take care of me.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

His hands reach for yours, large enough to engulf your own as he turns them over. His eyes follow the path his fingertips trace lightly over the band-aids covering the scratches on your palms. “If I hadn’t gone on ahead of you–”

You press a hand against his chest to stop him, his eyes flickering back up to meet your own.

As endearing as his concern is, he’s not the one at fault here. You don’t think anyone is, really, except for maybe that damned pothole you may or may not have tripped on. More importantly, you don’t want him to blame himself for this.

“Nuh-uh, nope, none of that. I’m the one who tripped, remember? It’s not your fault I suck at running. Or any kind of physical activity, actually.”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully as you mull over your own words. He watches the mischievous smile he’s learned to love appear on your face, hears the teasing edge seeping into your tone as you lower your voice just a bit.

“Except maybe the one that involves you railing me into the mattress,” you add with a smirk, playful and just shameless enough in a way that never fails to draw him in even more. “That one, I don’t mind, for obvious reasons.”

He sighs, though your words don’t surprise him. “I really wish you wouldn’t word it that way.”

“Too late~”

You’re practically singing as you grin at him, grabbing his chin and bringing his face closer to yours.

He mutters something about you having a one track mind, but you don’t miss the amusement in his eyes or the fond little smile he casts in your direction. He doesn’t stop you from pulling him in either, allowing you to rest your other hand on the side of his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Wakatoshi.”

You meet him halfway for a loving kiss that you hope is enough to express your gratitude, one he doesn’t hesitate to return. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours.

And right when you think you can’t possibly love him anymore, he promises quietly, sincerely, “Always.”

As usual, he gives you no time to recover. He kisses you on the forehead and then stands up, announcing that there’s something else he needs to go grab before leaving the room.

Honestly, you’re hoping it’s food. You’re starving, and after all of this morning’s excitement* (see also: trauma), there’s nothing more you want than to cuddle up alongside your boyfriend while enjoying a plate of your favorite breakfast food.

To your surprise –and slight disappointment– when Ushijima returns, it’s not with food or anything else to treat your injuries, but rather with a set of keys. He sits beside you again, opening his palm to offer them to you.

“Well, those aren’t pancakes.” You take the keys anyway, twirling the ring around one of your fingers before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are these what I think they are?”

“The keys to my apartment,” he confirms. “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen. It’s not the last thing you expected him to ask you when he offered you the keys, but it’s definitely not the first one either.

When he first held them out to you, you thought maybe he was just giving you a copy of your own to hold onto, just in case you ever needed them. You’ve thought about offering him the same a few times before, just so he could let himself into your own apartment whenever he comes over instead of you having to get up and open the door for him.

But that’s not what’s happening here. It looks like Ushijima’s chosen to skip the exchanging apartment keys step entirely in favor of just straight up asking you to move in with him. And while part of you is thrilled by it, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement at the prospect of getting to wake up next to him every day, of getting to come home to him, there’s another part of you that’s wondering if maybe you’re moving too fast.

It’s not that you don’t trust him, or that you doubt how much he cares for you, because you don’t. Your previous partners couldn’t even spell commitment, much less agree to it, but Ushijima’s not like them.

He told you, not too long after the first few times you went out together, that he doesn’t believe in dating casually or wasting his time. If he’s with someone, it’s because he sees a future with them. Hearing that was a bit intimidating at first, but it was also extraordinarily refreshing.

Asking you to move in with him, you know, is just another step towards that future. And while the idea excites you, making you feel more secure and adored than in any of your past relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still a bit hesitant.

After all, what sets you and Ushijima apart –more than your senses of humor, more than your completely different levels of athletic ability, as evidenced by the ice pack and bandages you’re currently sporting– is the fact that you, unlike him, often get caught up in the “what-if’s” of a situation. Whenever you have to make a decision, you psych yourself out by imagining every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

He calls your name, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking, like he can see the tangle of anxiety you feel nestling into your bones. Maybe that’s why he reaches out to take the hand that’s not holding his keys, lacing your fingers together.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I know, I know, I’m just...processing.” You give his hand a quick squeeze, moving the keys around in your other palm. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since my last away game.” He answers right away like he doesn’t have to think about it, like he just knows. Not for the first time, you find yourself envying his conviction. “I went straight to your apartment from the airport, and you were already there, waiting. I realized how much I liked the idea of getting to come home to you, and vice versa. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to move in since then.”

“Wakatoshi, that was last month. You’ve known since back then?” You stare at him with wide, wondering eyes, your cheeks already warming at the implication, growing even warmer when he nods. “And you don’t think it’s too soon? You’re not the least bit hesitant about living with me?”

“Hesitation is only necessary for those who are unsure of their desires. I know what I want, and that’s you, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. He says it like it’s easy. Like he’s already yours, to love and to be loved by.

And he is, you realize. He has been for a while, just like you have. You knew you were in love with him this morning, and you’ve known it for weeks before that, too. You just weren’t sure when or how to bring it up, but now you are.

“I’d like that. I like you– wait, that’s not right.” You release his hand, and he stares at you in confusion, the corner of his mouth curving downward. You’re quick to smooth it away with your thumb, your eyes earnest and full of affection as you correct yourself, “I love you, Wakatoshi.”

The confusion in his eyes quickly transforms into surprise. You’re not sure what stuns him more: your confession itself, or the confident, doubtless way you say it. You smile at him and take his face into your hands, careful to move his keys so they don’t scratch him.

“I’ve known it for a while. I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but now I am. I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but–”

“I love you,” he says confidently, unwaveringly, and now it’s your turn to be stunned.

You blink, taken aback for a few seconds before your lips begin curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

He hums affirmatively, and after that you can’t do anything besides kiss him. He’s quick to return the gesture, moving his mouth against yours and winding one arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pulls back from you right when you’re about to deepen the kiss. You try to pout, but it’s hard to do so when you feel as giddy and over the moon as you do now.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in with me?”

“Of course.” You beam at him. “I’d love to move in with you, Wakatoshi.”

He smiles, his arm moving up to wrap around your shoulders, and your own smile grows brighter as you lean into him, cuddling against his side and resting your head against his chest. Things between you are quiet for a few moments, both of you basking in the comfortable silence.

You’re shifting his keys in your hand when a thought occurs to you, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest.

“So this is why you let me go running with you this morning,” you tease. “You knew that if I did injure myself, that would just make it harder for me to leave, so I’d have no choice but to say yes to moving in. How sneaky of you.”

“You volunteered to join me–”

“I know, Toshi, I’m just kidding.” You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “So, what do you say we go make some breakfast in your kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Our kitchen now,” he corrects, and your heart flutters in your chest for what must be the tenth time in the hour or so you’ve been awake this morning. It can’t be healthy for you. “And I’ll be the one making breakfast. You stay here and rest that ankle.”

He kisses your forehead and stands up to head into the kitchen. You frown at the loss of his warmth, but another look at the keys in your hand has you smiling again.

Maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.

Written by: Dawn

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima imagines #haikyuu imagines #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #our writing #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu fluff #dawn writes

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years ago

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Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

-----

Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

#platonic jasonette #graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #marinette meets the sirens

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goblinkingdomsblog · 3 years ago

Note

Bts as mafia series ask

What will they do after kidnapping agent yn who is not willing to give info

What will they do after kidnapping agent y/n who is not willing to give information

Members: all BTS.

Genre: mafia!AU, reaction.

Premise: you are a police agent who was captured by one of the most influential members of the criminal organization you have been investigating for weeks. He's trying to get information out of you through interrogation, but you're not going to give in, no matter what. So he needs to think of a new plan.

TW: a little bit of (V) = Violence, but more of (S) = Safe for reading and (Sg) = Suggestive.

Mafia Series Masterlist

Mafia Series Plot

I don't know if this is exactly how you imagined your request, but I hope you enjoy it. ;)

"Precious information is always worth it."

Namjoon:

You were tied to the chair for a long time, until he came and released you. You immediately thought about the easiest escape route, but the abandoned, damp pavilion in which you were, behind huge boilers, seemed to have no end.

He smiled calmly, standing a few feet in front of you with his arms crossed.

- Agent Y/N. What an honor. - his voice was sympathetic, lulled by a hoarse and low tone - I've been looking for you for a long time. I heard you're trying to get me in trouble.

You laughed bitterly, spitting on the floor to get rid of the taste of the gag that had been in your mouth just minutes before.

- I feel really sorry that I didn't cause more problems, then.

Surprisingly, he laughed back, as if he were in the presence of a rebellious child who he needed to educate.

- You didn't answer the questions my subordinates asked you, did you?

- I will never reveal anything. You can send those dumbasses back and make them punch me more. - you touched your aching jaw with your free hands, without looking away from the one who you knew were the leader of the Organization - I can deal with them easily.

With his arms crossed, he rubbed his expensive shiny shoe on the floor, lifting his index finger.

- Oh, no, no. That was my mistake, caused by a wrong choice of members. Let's say they are not exactly the smartest members of our... company. I'm sorry about that. - he laughed quietly, adjusting his glasses over his nose with the casualness of someone who was shopping at the supermarket.

- So what are you going to do, you bastard? - you grunted, trying to distract him just to have time to think of a good way to get out of there.

He laughed again, a short, somewhat dangerous laugh.

- Courageous. - he murmured, with a sharp gleam in his dark eyes. He stared at you for a long moment before proceeding - Well, violence is almost never the best option. It is always better to treat the guests with whom you want to have a conversation with calm and courtesy. And, of course, without haste.

Feeling a cold shiver down your spine, you stayed still.

- I have all the time in the world, my dear. I can wait until you're ready to start. - with a singing smile that exposed two deep dimples, which now seemed sharply malignant, he turned to the darkness - Ah, and don't even think about running away. If this place already seems big to you, know that it is bigger than you think. And there are some rather interesting obstacles around here.

With one last look over his shoulder, the faint moonlight that came in through the windows reflecting off the lenses of his glasses and preventing you from seeing his eyes, he clicked his tongue.

- But, if you insist on trying to escape... - he pronounced, as if he considered the whole situation a great pleasure, and not a threat - I wish you good luck.

Seokjin:

You were in a small house, surrounded by at least 4 tables full of electronic equipment, computer parts, baubles and dust.

The man seated in front of you, with his chin in one hand, kept his eyebrows raised. By moving your hands tied behind your back, you tried to free yourself from the wheelchair in which you were trapped.

- Stay still. - he murmured, harshly. His expression was divided between apprehension and irritation.

- I am still. It is kind of difficult to make any movement while you are tied to a chair.

Without paying any attention to you, he rolled his eyes.

- I don't know why they thought of me as the right person to fulfill this mission. As if I had nothing more important to do. - his face, beautiful as a carved brilliant, was extremely expressive - And now, to make things worse, you still don't want to collaborate with the interrogation!

You smirked, shaking your head in the middle of the room with brown walls and orange lamps.

- I'm sorry for being a stone in your path. I bet if you let me go, you would be relieved. - your tone was acidic.

Bitting his lower lip, he snapped his fingers. With an impulse from the floor, he slid the wheelchair in which he was sitting to one of the tables, turning on one of the computers.

- Actually, I have a better idea. - he said, his plump lips curving into a smile as his fingers typed quickly, as if he were thinking of a joke that only he understood.

After a few quiet seconds, in which the only noises in the house came from the computer, he turned towards you and rotated the computer screen to your direction, so that you could view it entirely.

- I think you will be the one relieved when you collaborate with my questions. - he murmured, pointing the image on the monitor: the security cameras on the street in front of your family's house, recording everything in real time. It was even possible to spot your mother through the window - It's not that hard to find out certain things on social media, you know? I would recommend you to be more careful from now on.

Your smile died on your face, replaced by an expression of fear.

Yoongi:

The stone basement under the busy bar was a much darker place than it had seemed at first. The endless noise of parties was able to hide the most diverse noises.

The man standing at the door, talking to two others who remained in the shade, seemed completely calm. Which was the total opposite of how you felt.

Trying to shake your body to get rid of the rope wrapped around your entire torso, you groaned. You knew that dozens of bruises would form on your arms because of the effort, but you couldn't stop trying.

Dismissing the two henchmen, the man near the door turned in your direction. Approaching with his hands in his pockets, he stopped a few inches away, bending to reach the height where you were trapped.

- As you didn't want to answer when I asked patiently, I decided to change my approach. - with a slow, almost lazy, gummy smile, he took his hands out of his pockets, revealing a pile of pills.

Knowing what "industry" he was in, you were sure those pills were drugs. Although you were afraid of what might happen, you would never let it show.

- What are you going to do? Forcing me to swallow and kill myself from an overdose? - you almost spat, bending forward in an attempt to hit him with your head.

He laughed, and his laugh was a little choked. He smelled of cigarettes, both in his baggy clothes and on his breath.

- Don't be so hasty. I already said that I am very patient, so I would never force you to take one of them. - he shook the pills in his closed fist, letting them make a noise - I'll let you choose one of them.

Grunting, you turned your head.

- The choice is entirely yours. You may take a sweetie pill, which just makes you more relaxed to answer my questions... - his expression went from amusement to a somber seriousness, while he averted his eyes downwards - or you may take a poisoned one that will kill you. Sadly you don't have the option of not taking any pill.

Smiling again, exposing his gums in a way that made his expression frighteningly youthful, he shrugged.

- I hope you have a good eye for analyzing pills. Or at least a good tolerance.

Hoseok:

He was smiling in your direction for good 3 minutes now. Sitting upright, his knees 5 centimeters away from yours (that were tied to each other), he looked like an experienced dealer wanting to convince you to buy something.

You were already so tired that you felt almost ready to "buy it".

- If you tell me some very simple details of the investigation, I promise you will be released without any injuries. - his face was soft and friendly, and he spoke with such conviction that it was easy to accept.

You were sweaty due to the fact that you had been struggling in that chair for hours on end, trying to break free. That damn apartment seemed to be in the end of the world, because no one on the floors above or below made a sound.

It was time to try something different, to put pride aside. You had full faith in your ability to act.

- Do you... really promise? - you asked, in a weak voice and with an innocent expression, which made apparent the tiredness you were feeling (on purpose, of course).

He broke into a big smile, crowned by his shiny, aligned teeth. He looked cheerful as a child who had just won a candy.

- Of course, my dear. - he replied, lightly touching your hand tied on the arm of the chair. His fingers were warm and soft.

You smiled back "timidly". You would lie masterfully, until you convinced that man to let you go. You knew you were able to do that, because it was a necessity.

- Then... I will collaborate.

Caressing your hand briefly, just before letting go and looking you in the eye, his smile lessened a little.

- Just know that liars are not treated so politely. - he murmured, in a practically humming way - And I always know when someone is trying to deceive me, my sweet. Always.

Suddenly, the touch of his fingers no longer seemed as gentle as before.

Jimin:

The man's eyes seemed to burn in his face, just as the hate burned inside you. He was lying beside a round table, stripped, staring at you through half-closed lids.

- This is kind of kinky, don't you agree? - he asked, breaking the silence, his legs spread in a careless pose as he watched you.

You wanted to scream. You pulled your arms out, listening to the clink of the metal rings and then feeling the physical immobility. Being chained to a cement wall by your wrists and ankles, standing for hours, was far from any pleasurable idea. That was a fucking torment.

- Fuck you, you crazy bastard! - you grunted, your voice hoarse in your scratched throat - If I ever have the opportunity, I swear I'll kill you!

He didn't smile, but something in the curve of his eyes exposed the fact that he was enjoying the scene. In a leap, he rose from his chair, an evil idea igniting in his mind.

- What if that opportunity reveals itself now? Could you kill me? - he purred, approaching cautiously. You didn't know if he was teasing or threatening you, as his body movements were unreadable.

- Chained here? How fair is this clash? It is obvious that you will win. - you spoke through, your head hanging forward. You were an accomplished fighter in the police, but no one with their arms and legs trapped would be able to win a hand-to-hand fight.

- Of course I'm going unchain you. I'll even give you some time to warm up. I like fairness in this type of game. - the way he spoke, with pleasure, showed an insatiable desire for combat. You wanted to punch him.

- How can I be sure that you will not cheat? You are a fucking mafious.

This time, he laughed sharply, putting his hands on his stomach.

- I promise you that our fight will be fair, based only on the skills of each one. Especially because, if I win, my only prize will be to chain you back on this wall right here. - he got close enough to hold the sides of your waist with his hands, more firmly than expected. You forced yourself not to shudder - And while I really appreciate the sight, it is nothing that I haven't already seen.

You thought about attacking him right there, but it was better to wait a little more. Using his hands on your waist as a support, he started to unchain you.

Taehyung:

The boy was standing, his back against one of the only walls of the ruined building. The empty terrain you were on was extensive and the wind was blowing strong, turning all that vastness into a damn desert of grassy ice.

You were standing a few feet away, with nothing to hinder your movements. Still, you couldn't move, as you knew he had confiscated your loaded gun and was now keeping it in his pants pocket, ready in case any attempt was made to escape. You didn't want the same thing that happened to your two coworkers, now two bodies lying on the ground in the woods, to happen to you.

- Will you tell or not? - the man asked, boredom evident on his face. His voice was low, peaceful as a lullaby.

- I won't. - you said, shivering from the wind and nervousness. Nothing mattered now, not even your life: you had vowed to keep the investigation a secret, and that's what you would do. You would die with honor, just like the others.

Arching one of his thick eyebrows, he remained still. His mouth went up in one corner, in a angled smile.

- Ah, too bad.

- Shoot fast, can you? - you shouted back, extremely tired of it. You wanted it to end fast.

- I will not shoot you. You are useful, unlike your unintelligent colleagues who tried to attack me.

You clenched your teeth, the sound of the wind almost deafening your ears.

- What are you going to do then?

Wiping the hair off his forehead, which insisted on sliding in all directions, he waved a hand, turning the loaded revolver in one finger.

- Ah, I decided to let your teammates answer the call that the... deceased agents sent on the radio. They will get here behind this wall, as it is the easiest way to access the terrain. - observing the barrel of the gun and then opening the magazine to see how much ammunition was inside, he continued: - It is always good to practice my shooting from a long distance, just to not lose the practice.

Wide-eyed, the scenario in which your colleagues were killed one by one by shots from a hidden sniper crossed your mind. It was terrible.

- But, if you like your colleagues very much and decide that your willingness to offer information is greater than my intention to play target shooting, it may be that things happen in a much easier way. - he stated.

Jungkook:

He almost never looked up from the ground, and when he did, his eyes kept hidden under the brim of his hat. Not that it was easy to spot anything inside a dark and metallic bunker, in which you could barely move because you were handcuffed to the table fixed on the floor.

After hesitating for a long time, the man with tattoos on his fingers sitting in front of you finally spoke:

- You have to answer. I am here just following orders, and you are delaying my other appointments. - if there was something behind which he could hide, he would probably do it. But not out of fear... it was for another reason.

- I already said I won't tell you anything. You can kill me already, dumb child. - you almost roared, the rage accumulated in hours of silence revolting inside you.

Yes, even though he was partially hidden by the shadows, the fact that he was young was evident. More a shy boy than a silent man.

His eyes widening in shock, he stepped back a few inches. With an increasingly wheezing breath, he got up and walked to a door in the corner of the bunker.

- You're making things more difficult for both of us. - he said, with a dangerous tone.

Opening the hidden door with a single movement of his drawing-covered hand, he revealed a gagged figure, struggling and muttering in a useless way: your partner in the police and best friend, Denyel.

You gasped with fright when his figure became visible, his body covered in sweat. With a sudden tug, the tattooed man dragged your friend over to the chair where he himself had been sitting before, forcing him to settle down.

- With each denied answer, a little bit of his life is gone. - the boy's voice was now expressionless, and his hands moved quickly as he took dozens of knives from the belt under his coat and placed them on the table, with a clang - I can make it drag on for hours, believe me. I know exactly how much "life" to remove until there is no more of it left.

That's it for now! Did you like it? Tell me your opinion and your suggestions, my dear reader.

If you want to request anything, send me your ideas!

The images used on this post are not mine. Credits to the owners.

Kisses from the Goblin Kingdom! :)

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 4 years ago

Text

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 3

Welcome to Part 3! You've made it this far? I'm impressed. Thank you for sticking around. This is quite the long chapter so, I hope you enjoy the juicy action all around.

And this one was quite the doozy to write. It's 3AM now? Hah, I've spent the entire day writing two chapters. But definitely don't expect more at quite this frequency. But I appreciate you all none the less.

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Tag Requests: @lostghostgirl94 @neoarchipelago @fillechatoyante @fanfics-ig

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it's easy to lose people in the mix and I don't want to miss anyone!

-----

For previous chapters go here: Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 5.358

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been precisely three hours, forty-two minutes since two Avengers and a criminal mastermind had left the safe house you were staying in.

You were currently staring up at the ceiling with mild boredom waiting for the next round of texts to come in. An alert notification rang through the near empty residence, the noise echoed off the walls of the living room intensifying the reverberation of sound.

Rolling over, you flopped onto you stomach from your position on the couch, stretching your arm out to grab the phone off the coffee table.

Carefully, you read the incoming message. 'No recent signs of Karli, but following up on a handprint Bucky found a couple miles from our initial start position. Zemo has a theory it might lead to a section of tunnel that veers off towards the harbor. Will update again in another hour. - S'

Great.

So they'll easily be gone at least another couple hours, leaving you to your own devices. That's dangerous. There's no telling what kind of trouble you could get into without something to do. Your mind was always processing, constantly formulating new plans and calculating risk probabilities. It's why you were so fidgety and animated. You didn't inherently have ADHD, but your brain was so active the symptoms manifested as such. You had a genius level intelligence, you just chose to down-play it most of the time. You craved activities to keep your mind from going into overdrive; it's why you spend most of your mornings running. To drain your body of excess energy and let your brain rest.

You groaned in irritation, tossing the phone back onto the coffee table. Sam could have at least given you a pin point location so you could do some research on the area where the handprint was found.

Maybe you could read for a bit.

You got up and headed to your room at the back of the apartment. Zemo gave you the last room at the end of the hallway, it also happened to be the only room that had a half bath attached to it. Which in retrospect, was quite thoughtful of him.

As you reached your room, a chilly draft fell across your body, causing goosebumps to raise on your fair skin. You noticed you left a window open in the room and moved to close it. Often times, late at night you sat at the window sill and read to pass the time when you couldn't sleep. Sometimes, you'd crack the window open and simply listen to the sounds of the outside; they were just as soothing. There was no denying it was quite lovely where you were staying. Helmut Zemo had impeccable taste.

You grabbed your book and crossed the room, rubbing your arm to help circulate some heat back into your body, but before you got to the door, a patch of blue caught your eye. Zemo's hoodie. It had been left draped haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in your room. A constant reminder you needed to give it back to the Baron, but you weren't ready to just yet, and funnily enough, he hadn't asked for it.

Shifting from foot to foot, you debated what to do. It was comfortable. Wearing it one last time couldn't hurt, right? There wasn't anyone here to cajole you about it anyways and you could just take it off before the guys got back. Perfectly reasonable. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you snagged the garment off the chair and pulled it on as you walked back out to the main living room, book in hand.

As you rounded the corner and made your way through the kitchen back to the couch, you heard a loud metallic bang against the entry-way door accompanied with the tell tale signs of door knobs turning. Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, you had leapt off the ground, clutching the book to your chest.

You stared at the door in fear knowing it was way too soon for anyone to have returned yet. And they wouldn't have caused the disruption in the attempts to break in. Pushing down your apprehension, your senses started to return to you, and you realized you need to get to your phone. Now.

Your eyes moved across the apartment and landed on the coffee table a short distance away from you. Bingo. You took a step forward towards the table when the front doors suddenly swung open and a whirl of red, white and blue flew past your face. The projectile, nearly hitting you, caused you to stumble, knocking you backwards onto the floor. You landed clumsily, but thankfully caught yourself before your head smacked against the ground.

You didn't need to look up to know exactly what object flew at your head. The sound alone was unmistakable.

"Apologies for the erratic entrance, I only meant to use it to help open the door - I hadn't planned on Lemar here unlocking the them so easily. When the doors fell open, it kind of just flew right out of my hand."

Annoyance had now replaced your fear.

John Walker.

You had many opinions of the man based off what Sam and Bucky had told you, but you hadn't had the pleasure of actually meeting him. Until now.

This did not help sway your opinion of him in the very least. If anything, it only solidified that the government had made a rash decision. You don't just had over the shield to anyone.

You glared up at the intruders from your position on the floor. This was completely unexpected. How did he even manage to locate this safe house? Something nagged at the back of your mind that Captain Walker might have had help from people with a questionable background. You shoved the thought aside for the time being.

Lemar had gone around to the back of the couch and pulled the shield out of the wall embedded in between the two stained windows. Walker, who stood next to you, was offering his hand to help you up.

You didn't even make an effort to consider his gesture and got up off the floor without his assistance, dusting yourself off in the process.

Walker appeared undeterred by your dismissal of him and instead put on a winning smile and rotated his hand in the attempts of a handshake.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. John Walker. Captain America," he proudly stated.

"I know who you are Captain Walker, as well as your friend here," you briskly answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You could see the smile start to drop off his face and his eyes turn a bit darker.

"And I know who you are as well, you're well documented along with the Avengers, but I was trying to be polite," Walker grounded out with forced effort.

You didn't want to start an argument with the newly anointed Captain America, but there was something off about him that just irritated you.

"Polite?" you sarcastically question. "How is barging into someone's residence, polite? Please, do explain," you shifted your weight onto one side, giving him an expectant look.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. In case you've forgotten, I'm Captain America," he took a step towards you, his body language highly suggesting an intimidation tactic.

You held your tongue and took a step back to place more distance between yourself and Walker. You spared a glance at his partner to gauge his reaction, but his expression was guarded, although he was watching with rapt attention.

"What do you want, Walker?" you bit out. You attempted to keep some of the contempt out of your voice, but he had quickly turned your mood sour this afternoon.

"Where's Zemo?" Walker cut straight to the chase this time.

"Not here, obviously," you held your arms out, gesturing around.

"I want to know where Zemo is. He's coming with us," the captain took another step towards you, this time with a more forceful intention.

You furrowed your brow and took another step back. His posturing was starting to make you slightly nervous.

"Even if I did know where he was, I'm not saying either way. Zemo has been surprisingly helpful to us, and we need him to locate Karli along with the rest of the Flag-Smashers, including the missing vials of serum. And he's more likely to continue working with us, than provide you with any information at all. That I can say with absolute certainty," your words sounded confident, but inside you were trembling.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Captain America.

His entire demeanor changed. Once where there was some warmth and light-heartedness, there was only a cold emptiness left in his gaze. He reached back to grab the shield from Lemar, and then without any warning shoved you back against the wall to your left.

You heard the distinct sound of your right shoulder pop as is slammed into the wall along with the rest of your body. The rapid movement from Walker and impact from the shield knocked the wind right out of you. The pressure from the amount of force he was exerting pinned you to the wall and caused the shield to be painfully pressed into your side, separating you from Walker. You could feel the rim of the shield digging slightly into your neck, but not enough to cause any real damage.

"John!" you heard Hoskins shout with alarm from behind Walker.

You swallowed thickly; very real fear had settled into your bones. You were capable of defending yourself, but hadn't actually needed to put those skills into any use. Bucky and Sam had taught you some moves and hold to get out of, but it never crossed any of your minds once you'd have to fight Captain America. You tried to shift your head to the side to see how far away your phone was. What possible options you had. Maybe you could appeal to his partner and deescalate the situation before things got too ugly.

"I'm only going to ask this one last time. Where is Zemo?" Walker spit out, putting force against the shield, which in turn, caused you to grimace in pain.

"Hoskins, you really going to allow Captain America to torture an innocent citizen trying to help in a cause we're all aligned in?" you gasped out, trying to swallow as much air as possible through the pain wracking your body.

You refused to let it show. Holding back as much of the discomfort you were in. You didn't want to give Walker the satisfaction.

"John, ease up. She's not a terrorist, and frankly, I agree with her," Hoskins voiced, his footsteps bringing him closer to Walker with the hopes of gaining his attention no doubt.

The pressure from the shield against your form was lifted slightly, though the shield was still closer to your body than you'd like to admit. You closed your eyes to focus on regaining some stability and figure out your next course of action to get yourself out of this mess.

"Stay out of this Lemar," John replied, but his menacing stature had lessened minutely.

You opened your eyes to stare at Walker. He had removed the shield between the two of you and placed it on his back; however he stepped into your personal space instead and placed a hand against your collarbone, essentially rendering you immobile again.

Well, at least now you could breathe.

Walker peered down at you with distain, "You're really not going to give him up are you?"

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin defiantly at him.

"No," you answered.

The wheels were turning inside Walker's head. You could literally see the fire burning in his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer out of you. Not willingly.

He dipped his head and released his hold on you, pointing a finger right at your face, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

You saw Lemar walk up and pat Walker's shoulder, "Alright, let's get out of here."

Walker straightened up and stiffly walked away, leaving Hoskins trailing behind. His ego had taken a blow today.

Hoskins gave an apologetic shrug, "He's under a lot of stress."

Before Lemar could fully clear your line of sight, you quietly spoke up, "He doesn't deserve that shield."

Hoskins didn't have a response to that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In wake of the aftermath, you had tried to clean up as best possible. You assessed your injuries were non life-threatening, though your right shoulder was most definitely dislocated. The arm was kept close against your body hoping to not jostle it too much. You felt spikes of pain as you cleaned the area where Walker had thrown the shield into the wall, but ignored it so you could get the place back in shape before Sam, Bucky and Zemo returned.

Sam had messaged not too long ago, they were roughly 20 minutes out from the apartment.

Your ribs were throbbing from where the shield had been buried into your side, but you didn't think they had been broken, only bruised. You were going to have to ask one of them pop your shoulder back into place.

You were dreading the conversation, but were determined to remain as calm as possible to help alleviate the immediate reaction they were going to have once you revealed what happened.

The events of the day had finally caught up with you and coupled with the cleaning efforts, your body was signaling it's exhaustion. You were in the kitchen, and honestly didn't think you could make the short trip to one of the sofas; so you carefully sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and waited patiently.

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, the doors to the apartment opened and the guys swiftly came in to greet you.

"Did you even leave the kitchen?" James inquired, coasting around the kitchen to grab a drink.

You smiled tightly and responded in kind, "For a short while, yes. Did you guys find anything worth while?" You quickly wanted to change the subject but knowing you were only delaying the inevitable.

"Yeah, we think we've discovered a possible building Karli is using to hideout in. We had planned on eating something quickly and then leave again to check it out tonight," Sam explained.

As Sam was talking, Bucky had accidently bumped into you, causing you to wince and pull your arm tighter to you. Luckily, he didn't see your face, but Sam did.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam questioned, voice filling with concern.

You blew out a breath bracing yourself for what you were about to say.

"What happened to my wall?" Zemo piped up, giving you a curious glance, he had moved to run his hand along the diagonal cut, inches deep, in the space between the ceiling to floor windows.

Bucky left his glass and walked over to get a better look, as did Sam. Both of them would know precisely what caused a mark like that to become etched into a wall.

Sam and Bucky snapped their heads back to you as soon as they saw the indention, but it was Zemo who spoke first.

"John Walker was here," he stated, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of the couch he was nearby.

"It was an, eventful afternoon here," you tried to put some overly cheerful, comedic tones into your voice, but failed pretty miserably.

"What happened?" Sam immediately asked.

The trio had made their way back to the kitchen to get answers from you.

Zemo came to stand nearby, eyes roaming your body, searching. With his expertise, there was no question that he would quickly figure out you were injured; so you tried to tell your story as concisely as possible.

"Um, so - Walker and Lemar showed up. He asked for Zemo. I told him he wasn't here aaaaand they left. The end," you hurriedly spoke, wanting to get this over with and not draw any more attention to yourself.

But you could see in Helmut's eyes, he knew there was more to your story. His carefully crafted mask was starting to crack as you saw his gaze drift down to you cradling your arm underneath the island away from Bucky and Sam's eyeline.

"You're hurt," Zemo said. His face showed open concern as he walked the remaining distance to you.

With more tenderness than you thought possible coming from him, he slowly and carefully moved your right arm away from your body. He kept his eyes trained on you for any discomfort or signs of pain.

Once your arm had left your lap though, you reached over with your left hand to grip one of his wrists to prevent him from moving your arm any further.

"Don't, please," you pleaded, gritting your teeth and swallowing down the pain threatening to erupt from you. You were panting now, and more clear than ever something had happened to you while they were gone.

Helmut released your arm without hesitation, but did not leave your side. You saw him exchange tense looks between James and Sam. Normally, Bucky would have been focused on keeping Zemo away from you, but with the current circumstances, he was no longer a priority.

"What actually happened?" Bucky softly called out, he and Sam had gotten closer to take a better look at you. Sam brought a chair out to sit next to you and give you a once over, while you explained.

The expressions on their faces were grim as they anxiously awaited your reply.

"It wasn't - it's not quite as bad as it seems," you started, stuttering out the words as Sam brought his hands up to check your head for any injuries first.

"He just barged right in and was insistent on finding Zemo. He was acting so arrogant and pompous, I just refused to give him any information on his whereabouts," you continued on. "He didn't like the fact I wasn't willing to cooperate with "Captain America" and he got a little.....rough with me."

Sam paused his surveying to meet your gaze. You could see the guilt beginning to creep into his eyes. He turned his head to look up at Bucky, who was angrily flexing his vibranium arm in displeasure. Probably only affirming his notion that Sam should have never given up the shield in the first place.

"What did he do?" Bucky's tone brook no argument. He wanted to know the truth.

You scrunched your face in unpleasantness when Sam checked your lower neck and collarbone, he had found the place on your body where the shield and his hand had met you.

"Is this from - ?" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and he looked away in anger. You could tell he just wanted to get up and throw something, and that was commonly uncharacteristic for him.

Zemo had shifted his position to take a peek at what Sam was doing while he checked you out. You saw how his eyes had darkened with quiet rage taking stock of everything. There was an outline of a thin scrap mark against the underside of your neck and jaw, but it was a clear demarcation that would only be caused from the shield itself.

You nodded sadly and focused on answering Bucky's question as you gave Sam the okay to keep going.

"Walker, didn't get what he wanted, so he did the only other thing he knows how to do," you cleared your throat and rubbed your hand against your forehead.

"Use brute force," Zemo darkly said.

"He used the shield to push me up against the wall over there," you pointed over as you continued re-telling what happened. "I was knocked into the wall pretty hard, but Walker lost all focus and nearly suffocated me from the force of the shield against my body. I think he -" you yelped like a wounded animal, not able to finish your story when Sam touched your shoulder.

Bucky's eyes had widen and became deeply concerned over your pained scream.

Your muscled were clenched tight as you tried to ride out the pain, face starting to turn red.

Zemo had placed a light hand on your back, leaning down to comfort you and remind you to breath.

You fumbled with your good arm as you tried taking in deep breaths and motioned to Sam what was wrong with your arm.

Even with your poor mime animation of pretending to have your arm pulled from your socket, James picked up on what you were getting at. He tapped Sam to switch places with him. Your eyes were watering at this point and you blinked back the tears wanting to fall.

"Alright doll, on the count of three, I'm going to raise your arm and put pressure on your shoulder, okay?" Bucky solemnly said.

Sam gave you a smile of assurance while Zemo ended up taking your good hand, letting you know you could use him to brace yourself. He and James shared a silent conversation before nodding at one another. If Sam had a problem with Zemo providing you comfort, he didn't show it. You figured he was letting some of his dormant humanity rise to surface in this moment.

You shook slightly trying to prepare yourself for the next round of pain once your shoulder was fixed, but James didn't give you any time.

"Three," he commanded, snapping your shoulder back into its socket before you had a chance to even reaction.

You let out another cry of pain, holding onto Zemo's hand tightly, but somehow, the fear of the oncoming pain dissipated as you let go of his hand and rubbed your shoulder with minimal soreness.

You cleared your throat and looked at everyone after a few moments of rest. Surprised at how efficiently James had handled your shoulder, but then again, he was the perfect person to do the job.

You scrunched up your nose at James, "What happened to one and two?"

He huffed out a laugh, "It worked didn't it?"

"Thank you. All of you," you gave a lazy smile through the tiredness that filled you up. "I think I'll be okay now - that was the worst of it. Promise. Walker didn't do any further harm to me. I managed to convince Lemar to get Walker to back down," you glossed over the section where Walker threatened you, but you could bring that up later.

None of them were satisfied with your response, but you're guessing they let it slide given the circumstances.

Zemo reached into the freezer to grab an ice pack. He handed it to you to place on your shoulder helping with your recovery. You accepted it from him extremely grateful. You mused your opinion of him was constantly evolving the more time you actually spent with him.

Sam had asked if you were sure there weren't any other areas you wanted to have checked over for injuries.

You assured him, you were alright, just tired and very sore.

Bucky had swiftly gotten up from his chair and made it known he wanted to go after Walker this evening. You knew he wasn't going to let this incident go any time soon. Sam had also been in agreement after fully understanding what transpired, but Zemo was eerily silent.

"You guys should follow your original plan. Don't let Walker distract you. I'm alive and I am going to be okay. Go follow your lead on Karli," you interjected, trying to be the reasonable one. There was no need for them to go off halfcocked while they were still very upset. You were too, if you were being honest with yourself, but your focus was on your friends first and foremost.

"Well, we're not leaving you here alone. I can stay behind and let Zemo and Sam check things out," James said.

"Actually, it makes the most sense if I stay behind," Zemo chimed in.

"Why is that?" Sam countered warily.

"The particular location you are going to, I have....a history there. It would be wise for me to not be seen in that part of town as to not raise any alarm bells," he reasoned with them.

"And why should we trust you with her?" Bucky asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Because I have no motive to do any harm to her nor shall I allow any further injury come to her. On this James, I give you my word," Helmut replied, the seriousness of his tone was not lost on anyone in the room.

"Okay," Sam relented, moving about the kitchen to pack some food for their evening night out.

"Just like that, huh?" James said with disbelief.

"Yeah, just like that," Sam parroted back.

Bucky wasn't happy about the situation, but there was an urgency to find Karli, so he caved.

James leaned over on the counter to make sure you were 100% okay being left along with Zemo, reminding you at any time you can call and they'd rush back instantly for whatever reason.

You stood up slowly, balancing the ice pack on your shoulder and shuffled over a few steps towards him, "Thank you. Now, go."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You waved to to your friends a second round of goodbyes for the day. You sagged against the counter, temporarily forgetting about Zemo for the moment. You really needed to lie down.

As if he read your thoughts, you suddenly felt his presence as an arm wrapped around your waist, resting firmly against your hip.

"Here, let me help you get someplace more comfortable than this," Zemo asserted, taking his free hand and dropping the ice pack from your shoulder onto the counter. He then grabbed your left hand, raising your arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support you. So now most of your weight is on your left side, allowing your right to have most of the pressure released from your injuries.

You were so close to him you could smell his expensive cologne and aftershave. It was intoxicating and caused your head to swim a little. You stumbled slightly, but Zemo kept you steady as you both made your way to your room.

In your exhausted state, you managed to sneak in a few glances to Zemo, who was concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cause any jarring movements. He deserved more credit than you had been giving him; he truly did seem to care in his own warped way.

Once you had gotten to your room, he guided you to the bed to lie down. Not once had you complained. A true testament of just how tired you were. You couldn't even muster a snarky reply at his disheveled state of being, from practically dragging you down the hallway.

You snuggled into the hoodie you were wearing and tried to lie in a position that wouldn't cause too much discomfort for your shoulder and ribs.

Zemo had stepped into the closet and when he returned he came back with a couple extra pillows. He propped them against your injured side to prevent you from rolling over during the night.

If nothing else, Zemo was incredibly thorough when he focused on something. And right now, that focus was you. It was unnerving, but also thrilling at the same time. Maybe you did have a head injury, because all you could do was smirk at how utterly adorable he was tending to you. It made you curious as to whether this was what Zemo was like before. For the first time, you really wanted to know more about him.

You saw how he was confident in everything he does, and this situation was no different apparently. He had been muttering to himself as he adjusted bedding and made sure there was nothing in the room that you could trip over if you had to get up. He was taking in all the possibilities, like you did.

He had been actively avoiding looking at you though since Bucky and Sam left. You weren't entirely sure why, as he's had zero problems watching you over the past several days. You have a feeling it's because you're one of a few people who have seen beneath the surface of Helmut Zemo, and he's reacting the only way he knows how to at this moment.

Distraction.

You were too sleepy to ponder this any further and turned your head to the side to see what Zemo was fiddling with now.

He had finished up the last of his tasks and looked around the room satisfied with his work. Only then did he turn to look at you.

If it had been anyone else, you would swear that Zemo almost seemed nervous. He was, at many times in your experience, hard to read; so all of these new expressions are a different side for you to see.

Zemo tentatively sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

"Do you need anything?" he genuinely inquired.

You shook your head, indicating you didn't.

All of a sudden he laughed. It ended nearly as quickly as it had began. You raised an eyebrow him in reply, but he simply tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie you were still wearing.

Too tired to be embarrassed about it, you simply mumbled, "Shut up. I still plan on giving it back, although, given it's track record, you should quite possibly get rid of it. After what happened today, I think it might be bad luck."

You saw Zemo dip his head and chuckle at your reply. He look much more carefree when he laughed. You'd have to add him to your daily list. Make Zemo laugh.

His expression sobered rather quickly though and became pensive after that, staring out the window briefly before resting his gaze back on you.

"You keep it. It looks better on you."

Not knowing what to say, caught up in the storm in his eyes, you give a small smile. You can feel your cheeks turning red under the intensity of his stare.

Zemo stood up, getting ready to leave when you stopped him by latching onto his wrist.

"Wait," you murmured.

The swift action caused him to furrow his brow in confusion.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from him, only that you didn't want him to go.

"Stay."

You could tell you startled him with your request. Your eyes grew larger realizing the potential double meaning.

"Just until I fall asleep?" you clarified, a yawn escaped as you covered your mouth.

Zemo visibly relaxed and had you relinquish your hold on his arm so he could pull up a chair to your bed. He turned his head around the room in search of something. He went to the nightstand and picked up your book.

Amusement flitted across the features of his face as he read the cover. Zemo sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the side of the bed.

You shut your eyes and tried to block out the soreness covering your body. Tomorrow would be worse. The next day always is. You had begun to doze off, when ever so quietly, you heard Zemo's voice fill the room.

He was reading to you. Lulling you into a peaceful sleep and letting you know he was still present. Wanting you to know, in his own way, he was upholding his promise to Bucky and Sam. That you were safe with him. That you could trust him just as you had, when you asked him to stay in the first place.

With those final thoughts, you drifted off, listening to the subdued sound of his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #my writing #team zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu imagine

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breanime · 5 years ago

Note

If you’re taking two, “who did this?” and “why do you care?” for Rio please! And if you’re only doing one, then “who did this” also you’re gorgeous and I blame you for my Rio and Johnny obsessions

Last one for Rio, tomorrow (or sometime this week) I’ll finish up my Johnny drabbles!

warning: steamy

*gif not mine*

Rio gave you the keys to the kingdom the same day he got them. He shared everything with you; you were his ride or die, his rock, and he was your King. You were with him through everything, and he kept you at his side.

So when he was arrested for his first big charge, and the FBI broke down your front door, they took you too.

You had been in holding for hours by the time an Agent came in and cut you loose. You asked about Rio, and he said: “your man’s looking at 5-10”, and that was all.

It turned out that Rio took the fall for you, saying that you had nothing to do with his business, and that you were just an innocent bystander. His lawyer ended up getting him off with only having to serve 3 years, which was a hell of a deal. And you were there for him. Every visiting day, you were at the jail. Every morning and every night, you were spending thousands in collect calls talking to him on the phone. You were in constant communication with his lawyer, doing everything you could to make things easier for him. You ran the business by yourself while Rio was locked up, dealing with gangsters and criminals and all kinds of crooked cops. You’d learned a lot from Rio, but having the reigns in your hands—alone—was like a trial by fire.

And you flourished.

The day Rio got out (32 days early, no less), he kept you in bed for the rest of the week. You could hardly walk, and when he touched you, you could feel how much he loved you.

A month later, you came home to find all of your stuff boxed up.

“We’re done,” he had said, his voice low and eyes hollow, “It’s over.”

And that was that. You moved out that day; there were no amount of tears or reasoning that would change his mind. When Rio made a decision, that was it. Of course, you asked him why, what had gone wrong? But his answers had been vague and unsatisfactory. By the end of it, you were telling the man you loved that you hated him.

You had to leave the city.

You couldn’t stay there; Rio owned it, and every single stone, every blade of grass, every scent in the wind reminded you of him. So you moved. You started your own business in your city, you made a name for yourself, answered to no one, and kept yourself working all hours of the day. It was the only way to keep Rio off of your mind. Anyway, you were good at what you did, and soon, you were a Queenpin in your own right.

But being the Queen wasn’t always easy.

Overnight, shit hit the fan. Your empire had been compromised—you’d been betrayed by one of your men. The Feds were on your ass, and what was worse, your life had been threatened. A bomb in your car was the way you found out that there was a hit out on you, and as you lay in the street, lungs full of smoke and dust in your eyes, watching the inferno engulf your wine red Cadillac, you knew you had to restock.

You had to lay low.

Fuck. You had to go home.

You decided to hole up in a luxury suite on the edge of the city. Only your most trusted lieutenants knew where you were, and you didn’t let anyone from your past know that you were in town. You just needed a safe, quiet place to lick your wounds and re-strategize before heading back to your city. You checked in under a fake name, only went out in sunglasses and a wig, and kept to yourself…

…which is why your heart stopped when you heard a knock at your door.

You picked up your gun, holding it near your leg as you stood up. You knew it wasn’t one of your people at the door—they knew to use a special knock, and they had strict orders to stay away until you called them. It couldn’t be the FBI, because they had the subtly of a bull in a china shop; they wouldn’t knock. You creeped towards the door, watching the shadow underneath it move. You’d seen too much to look through the peephole—one shot through the eye would have you dead, and if this assassin had a silencer, no one would even find your body for days. Carefully, you stood behind the door and put one hand on the knob. You opened it, sticking the gun up as the person stepped in, and your heart felt like it would burst when you saw him.

Rio.

“Huh,” he grinned, not at all concerned about the pistol in his face, “That’s one way to greet me.”

You lowered your arm, eyes wide, as Rio kicked the door shut behind him. He walked past you into the sitting area, looking around the suite with his hands in his pockets. He looked good, wearing all black and a beanie. He had more facial hair than he did when you were together, but you could see his tattoo—the eagle—on his neck. You would know that tat anywhere; you had a matching one on your ankle.

“Rio,” you said, and you watched as he turned, slowly. It occurred to you then, as he stared at you, that he couldn’t see how wide your eyes were. You were wearing your shades, and you wondered if he could see his own reflection in them. You swallowed. “How did you know I was here?”

“The Queenpin enters my city,” he drawled easily, “I hear about it. Don’t worry, though, no one else knows you’re here.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You gonna shoot me, Y/N?”

You sighed, placing your gun on the counter. You put a hand on your hip, raising an eyebrow back at him. “Don’t be rude,” you said.

He chuckled, and the sound of his laugh made your eyes water. You blinked back the tears and watched as Rio took out his gun—and oh. He was still using the gold pistol you’d bought him all those years ago… He placed it on the counter next to yours, and seeing your guns side by side made your heart flip. When you looked back up at him, Rio was walking towards you.

You took a step back, and he paused. “I don’t remember you being this jumpy,” he said coolly.

You frowned, and you took two steps closer to him. “I’m not jumpy,” you argued, taking a third step just to prove your point, “I’m cautious.”

Now it was his turn to frown, and he titled his head. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Rio,” you answered, “there is no way you could ever hurt me now, more than you have before.”

He licked his lips, nodding as he looked away from you for a second. “You find out who betrayed you?” He asked.

“I’m gonna handle it.”

Rio smirked. “That’s not an answer.”

Your eyes narrowed behind your glasses. “I’m handling it,” you amended.

“Hm…” He took a small step towards you, and you knew that if you gave any indication that you didn’t want him to get closer, he would stop. But you didn’t, so he didn’t. “And the car bombing? You handling that?”

You moved up, taking another step closer to Rio. “I’m alive, aren’t I?” You answered.

He was directly in front of you now, and he reached out, his hand touching your chin. You held your breath as his fingers brushed over your face, gently brushing over the small cuts there. “You know who did it.” It was a statement, not a question. He didn’t wait for you to respond before he was reaching up and taking your sunglasses off.

You didn’t stop him. You watched as his eyes took you in—the bruises, the scrapes, the redness in your eyes from staying awake, watching your own back for all hours of the day. His eyes were dark with emotion, and you had to look down to avoid getting sucked into them. Rio looked down at your collarbone, his fingers brushing your skin and the cuts there as well before dropping and picking your hand up, looking at the scrapes on your knuckles. When he looked back up at you, his eyes were black, and you could see the anger in them. He was still holding your hand in his, and you could feel the tension in him—or maybe it was coming from you. It was hard, with him so close, to know who was feeling what. You always felt so connected with Rio, and this was no exception. When Rio spoke, his voice was low and rough with rage.

“Who did this?”

You moved to step back, but he wouldn’t let you—and that pissed you off. You yanked your hand out of his and stepped back, glaring up at him. “I’m handling it,” you repeated, “and anyway, why do you care? It’s none of your business.”

“You know why I care,” he said slowly.

You shook your head; your heart wanted to hear him out, but your head refused to fall down that rabbit hole again. “I’m only gonna be in town for a couple of days,” you explained, “and I’m not trying to move in on your terf or take any of your territory—”

“I ain’t worried about that.”

“Then what do you want?” You asked, getting to the point.

He leaned forward for a moment, like he wanted to move closer to you again, but he stopped himself. “A name.”

“What?”

“I want a name. The name of the person who did this to you,” he clarified.

You bristled. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“He’s mine,” you said, walking up to him, “My rat, my problem—I don’t need your help!”

“I’m not asking,” he said calmly, “You could’ve been killed,” he said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to you, “I can’t just let that go.”

“Oh yes, you can,” you argued, “You’re good at letting things go.”

Rio’s jaw ticked, and you swallowed back a smirk. He was getting riled up. Good. “Don’t…” He started.

“You forced me out,” you went on, “You told me to leave, and now, I’m telling you.” You turned, stomping to the door and ripping it open. “Leave.”

Rio walked over to you, and for one terrible second, you were afraid that he might actually go, but instead, he slapped the palm of his hand on the door and slammed it shut. He towered over you, his face just inches from yours—close enough to kiss. Or slap.

“Give. Me. A. Name.” He ground out.

“Fuck. You.” You said back.

The two of you glared at each other, two pieces of the same puzzle, a King and Queen, heartbroken lovers, and you wanted to devour him. He was so close to you, you could feel the heat coming off of him, you could hear the sound of his breathing, heavy like yours. You could see those long, dark eyelashes, the curve of his lips—you could see the man you loved. Love.

You reached up and grabbed him, pulling him to you fiercely. Rio growled into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up. He carried you across the suite and dropped you onto the bed. He was on top of you in a second, his mouth melding against yours, kissing you so hard it would bruise. But you weren’t being gentle either; you scratched at his back, trying to bring him even closer. You nipped at his lower lip, and he hissed, but didn’t pull back. Rio’s hands were on you, pulling at your clothes and ripping them off, tossing them all over the room. You scratched at him as you helped him out of his clothes, relishing in the feel of his flesh under your hands. It didn’t take long for you to be skin-to-skin, and you gasped at the feel of him, the warmth, the heat, the pressure, the weight of him—you wanted to drown in him. He was kissing you again, his tongue swirling against yours, it was sloppy, it was primal, it was just so him. You felt Rio’s hands, big and rough, on your thighs, spreading your legs for you, and when you felt him against you, hard and ready, you dug your nails into his ass, pushing him forward.

You screamed when he entered you, there was no other man on the planet who made you feel like Rio made you feel. No other man who could make you so strong while keeping you so weak. He was grunting, his forehead pressed against yours, as he fucked you. You took him eagerly, your body moving naturally against his. Being with him, like this, was so new and yet so familiar; Rio would always feel like home to you, and you, despite your best efforts, would always come back to him. You could feel yourself approaching your climax, and he could feel it too. It was out of your control, you needed him, you needed him, you needed him.

You were powerless.

You came with a whimper, and Rio came with a shout. You shivered against him as he emptied yourself inside of you, and you never felt so whole in your entire life.

You were breathing heavy, trying to come back down with Rio still inside of you, when you felt him kiss you again. This kiss was soft, gentle… this kiss went from your lips all the way to your toes, and when you opened your eyes, he was staring down at you.

You wanted to cry.

“I made you leave,” he said, his voice hoarse, “because I wanted better for you.” You blinked up at him, afraid to hear him, but unable to do anything but listen. “I’ve done a lot of shit, but that… that was my one mistake,” his mouth was so close to yours, as he spoke, it was like his words were going right into you, “I told myself that I had to, to protect you, cause you weren’t strong enough, but we both know that’s not true. You’re stronger than me,” he admitted, “you always have been.” His eyes were staring into yours so hard, you couldn’t even blink, you didn’t want to miss a moment of him. “I knew it the second you screamed you hated me, and…” His eyes were so soft, so deep. “…You don’t hate me, do you, mama?”

You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself from breaking. “…please,” your voice came out in a whisper.

You felt Rio’s lips on your skin, kissing you right on the corner of your mouth. “I love you.”

You hugged him to you, and suddenly, you were crying. You vaguely registered him pulling out of you, before gathering you in his arms. He held you to him, leaning back against the headboard with you cradled in his arms, your head on his chest as you cried. Rio let you cry, and you honestly had no idea how long you were crying—a minute? an hour?—it was unclear. All you knew was that he was holding you, his large hand rubbing your back and shoulders, his soft lips kissing away your tears, and he didn’t move away from you, not even for a second. You knew, as he held you, the same truth that you had always known, the truth that you had tried to swallow down and push back all these years: Rio was your kingdom, Rio was your home.

Rio kept you in his arms like that for hours, just holding you. Neither of you spoke during that time, but you felt closer to him then than you did all those years ago when he was yours. It wasn’t until now—just now—that it truly felt that he was yours, that he was letting you see him—all of him. And you could tell that you proved yourself to him, though you weren’t entirely sure when or how, but you could tell by the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he wiped away your tears, that he saw you seeing him, and more importantly—he knew you would never look away.

“I can’t say it back,” you said, your hand on his chest, over his heart, “I’m too scared.”

“I know,” he said back, his mouth in your hair, “and that’s my fault.” You felt his press a kiss to the top of your head. “You don’t have to say it back.”

You nodded, looking up at him. There was still a lot that needed to be said, trust that needed to be built back up, but when you looked at Rio, you saw your future. “I can give you a name, though,” you said softly.

He smiled.

A month later, you were moving back to the city—Rio’s city. All your enemies had either been viciously, publicly murdered, or disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Either way—the FBI was off your ass now, and so you decided to move back home and pool your businesses with Rio’s. You moved into your own place (much to Rio’s quiet annoyance), but you saw him every day and every night. You had a key to his place, his car, his warehouses…

…you had the keys to the kingdom. But this time, you were partners in a greater sense, and this time, you both grew and changed and flourished together. He came over to your place one day, and his heart stopped when he saw that everything was boxed up. You smiled, walking over to him and going into his arms easily, feeling him relax a bit as you held him.

You kissed him, and when you pulled back, you could see the question behind those dark eyes of his. “So…” You asked, your voice casual. “…Do you need a roommate?”

Rio answered by picking you up, kissing you deeply as you giggled against his lips. And so a new chapter of your lives began—

—an unstoppable duo; a King and his Queen.

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I really want your opinions on this one, please!

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli @encounterthepast @realduckvader @justvnash @knowles-morgan @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19 @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86 @luminex3 @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @crushed-pink-petals @amethyst09 @falsehopesndreams @a-dorky-book-keeper @witchygagirl

Rio Taglist: @gemini0410 @glimmerglittergirl @gensneverland @jamielennkeeler @angels-pie @hermionetriskatniss @christinawxxx @nich0lasmatthews @whovianayesha @tashawar @existentialvacuum @beardburnsupersoldiers @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @thickemadame @juul4jesus

#rio x reader #rio imagine #rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #manny montana

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yandere-wishes · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Teams //Twisted Wonderland x Reader//

The quality of my writing keeps getting worst and worst 🤣

===========================================================

Malleus + Lilia

Lilia and Malleus are one of the better pairs of yanderes to share a darling. Malleus is so eager to keep his darling locked up, away from everyone, everything. But simultaneously Malleus has a weak spot for Lilia, he looks up to the older fae and desperately wants to gain his approval. He also trusts his judgment, so if Lilia wants to play a little bit "rough" with the darling then Malleus is willing to turn a blind eye. On the other hand, Lilia has a sicker, much more twisted manner of thinking about their situation, the older fae doesn't just see the Darling as his property he also sees Malleus as his now! Yes in Lilia's warped mind both Malleus and the poor darling belong to him and only him.

Life with the two isn't too bad, it's really all a matter of staying on both their good sides. Don't tick off one and expect the other to side with you. Malleus always takes Lilia's side no matter what, in his eyes, the pink and black-haired fae can do no wrong. On the other hand, Lilia just doesn't care. 'Malleus put you under a sleeping curse?' oh well that just how he is. 'Malleus broke your arm when he mistakenly thought you were attempting to escape?' That's just how things are around here better get used to it.

Just sit around like a nice pretty doll and let the two powerful fairies do as they want with you and everything will be okay.

Jade + Floyd

It all started when you made the mistake of asking Jade out on a date. One day when you'd swallowed up enough courage you marched up to your senior and all but begged for a date. To your surprise, Jade had agreed, hesitantly but never the less the "yes" was said. Oh, how happy you had been that day. Rushing back to your dorm room to doll yourself up. Fantasizing about the date as you danced around the room.

But when you actually arrived at the Mostro Lounge somethings off. Jade isn't...well, right. His smile is too big stretching across his cheeks in the most unnatural manner. His eyes have lost their spark, they're dull and dead almost like they're made of silicone. His personality isn't right either, he's too fidgety too hyper. He's all but bouncing off the walls and singing every other word.

When you finally walk over to him, the teal haired teen lounges himself at you, wrapping his arms so tightly around your body that air can't pass through your lungs. It's in that quick-paced breathless moment that you realize your mistake. This isn't Jade, this isn't the sweet charismatic gentleman no..this is his brother Floyd, the one person in NRC that haunts your dreams. The one boy that never goes one day without screaming your name through the hallways and "accidentally" bumping into you.

Try as you might to get out of his grasp and run for the exit, it's all futile. The younger just keeps hugging tighter and tighter until pesky black spots start to float around your sight, the bright lights fade into shimmering orbs as your consciences slowly slips away.

It's later when you wake up that you notice just how grave and hopeless your situation is. The grinning faces of both twins are peering down at you, sharp teeth on full display as they get closer and closer...

These two are the most in sync yanderes you will ever meet. Sure they seem like polar opposites but when it comes to their darling they can agree on practically EVERYTHING.

Now friendly reminder that Floyd is the more aggressive one out of the two. His cold fingers are always trickling over your skin, pinching the flesh as he proclaims how "cute" you are. Jade is the last string of sanity for both you and his brother. He makes sure you are both in line and never go overboard...technically Floyd never goes overboard. Jade is also much more hesitant to hurt their precious darling, he does enjoy how much you need him, but he hates seeing his little "goldfish" (the only fish's name I can write without getting a mini heart attack, yes I hate fish that much XD) in any form of pain. Now both marks are a completely different story, both twins adore marking their darling. Jade prefers to leave "love bites" over your neck and shoulders trailing down to your arms, while Floyd prefers to mark your thighs and torso area.

The twins may not be the most intense yanderes but they aren't very subtle either, just when you're starting to go with the flow they change something to throw you off and send you spiraling down a waterfall of confusion.

Riddle + Chenya Riddle and Chenya are the most contradicting yanderes you'll ever meet. These two can't agree on anything! Riddle usually set rules but Chenya always manages to convince their darling to break them under the pretext that "they won't get punished". Technically he's not telling a complete lie, He won't get punished but you sire will. Riddle is slightly more sympathetic when he's punishing his darling for a broken rule that Chenya convinced them to break. He knows that it's all his childhood friend's fault but he still has to discipline you with the hope that next time you won't listen to that idiot.

Now both these boys are possessive and desperate for any form of affection their beloved will give. Doesn't matter if it's kisses or gentle head pats so long as they can feel their s/o's tender fingers over their flesh. This usually leads to a tug of war between childhood friends. One of them is always trying to strangle your attention away from the other. Wither its Chenya sneaking up behind you and Riddle while you cuddle or Riddle yell and screaming until you and Chenya break apart your kiss and make room for him on the couch.

Overall these two are so chaotic together that sometimes their darling wonders why they even teamed up in the first place...

Leona + Ruggie Leona and Ruggie are actually a very underhanded duo. It's obvious from the start that Leona is pulling the strings. He manipulated Ruggie into helping him, briding the younger boy with the promise of the darling's undying love or food, either one works. It's Ruggie that does the physical kidnapping, it's also Ruggie that has to take care of the darling. Making sure they stay fed, clean, having something to wear after both he and Leona got rather aggressive on some nights. He does all the heavy lifting, while Leona just lays around cuddling the darling before falling asleep.

Leona has multiple ways of keeping both Ruggie and the darling in line. He's always being so considerate, so "caring" constantly showing them in pricey gifts or treating them over the top fancy restaurants. Anything at all no matter how expensive as long as it keeps them compliant.

These two do make a good team, but it's all manipulation and mind games. When the dust settles did either of them really love you? Or was it all a sick game for the two wild beasts?

Divus + Sam

Now Divus and Sam are a rather...odd mix. They don't work very well as a team at first, they're constantly bickering arguing over the smallest things. What their darling will wear, what she'll eat, etc, etc

It gets so bad at one point that Divus and Sam actually start a custody battle over the poor darling. The other teachers are intrigued, playing along for their own amusement. At some point, Lilia - only wanting to see how disastrous it will be- suggests a trial like they do in the movies and because the teachers in NRC are over-glorified children themselves that's exactly what they do!

The jury is made up of the dorm leaders, all reluctant to be there -with the exception of Kalim and a very confused Malleus- Ashton is Divus' lawyer, a horrible one at that. The man has no idea what's going on and is constantly yelling "OBJECTION"! At some point, Azul and Riddle take their gym teacher aside to explain the basic principles of a courtroom to him. He's slightly better after that bringing in students to testify for professor Crewel after he promises them a passing mark in his class that is.

Mozus is surprisingly a great lawyer, he has the perfect "witness", asks all the right questions and is constantly throwing shade at how bad Ashton is at anything that requires a bit of wit.

Crowley is obviously the judge, he's just happy to be there honestly. The poor bird-man's throat is slowly going raw from the number of times he's screamed at Ashton to quite down, at Leona to wake up, at Kalim to sit down, at Vil to stop checking his makeup and at Idia to get off his dame phone! An hour into the "Trial" and he already has his verdict.

That leaves you, the reason this whole catastrophe started. You're seated by the headmaster, dressed up in a glittering white dress, your hair and makeup done as if you were the guest of honor at some banquet. Your hands are threaded with silver handcuffs identical to those used on criminals if anyone with no prior knowledge to these events was to enter they surely would think that you were the criminal on trial here.

Finally Crowley proposes a split. Divus gets the darling from Sunday to Tuesday, while Sam gets her on Thursday until Saturday. With Wednesday being a day in which they both get their beloved. The setup works for a few weeks, almost shy of a whole month but...

It gets too much, neither men can standing being apart from their lover for three whole dame days! It's to vexing, too taxing. So they find another way, actually, it's Sam that turns up one day at Divus' room looking like a kicked puppy and all but begging to see their darling. Feel a tingle of pity Divus lets him in. This ends up becoming a normal thing. Every time Sam has you Divus will show up in his room and visa versa. They get better at sharing, agreeing with one another, one may even say they start to enjoy each other's company as much as their darling's.

1K notes · View notes

girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years ago

Text

Violent Delights: One

Violent Delights

(In collaboration with @jooniescupcakes)

Genre: Horror, Suspense, & Psychological Thriller

Pairings: Gang!Jimin x reader ; BTS x Reader

Sypnosis:“These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.”

Release Date: Sept 29, 2020 @ 8 p.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 9.2k

Author's Note: It's finally here! Almost a year in the works, but Violent Delights The Series is finally kicking off. Thank you for all the love, support, as well as critiques the one-shot received. I hope this re-telling can both capture and surpass the twisted charm of the original. I would like to thank Min (@jooniescupcakes) for helping me outline and plot the story and for contributing. I greatly appreciate it. This story will be darker, gore-y, and a lot more twisted than the original. So strap in & happy early Halloween! Trigger Warning: This story contains subject matter not appropriate for all ages. This story contains mental illness, emotional, physical, and mental abuse; as well as abuse of power, manipulation, and toxic relationships. All of which play a big part in this story. It is never my intention to sensationalize or spread misinformation about mental disorders, please take the "medicine" used in this story with a grain of salt. Links to helplines can be found in the navigation of my blog. Lastly, this is a work of fiction and does not portray the character of Bangtan Sonyeondan.

The door slammed shut harshly as Hanbin rushed to bolt it locked, by his side, he tugged an inconsolable YN through the small house. There was very little time until she arrived. He maneuvered his way through the piles of old dirty clothes, the children had long become accustomed to the stench coming from the kitchen, the dust, and grime that covered their home. It’s why no one came over. Not that anyone was allowed over. In the center of the room framed on the wall shined a family portrait mockingly. Hanbin was short for his age, just eight years old, but it allowed him to navigate through small openings and hide in tight spaces. It was a survival tactic.

“Shh, YN. You need to calm down. She’ll be here soon.”

“i-I wuh-wanted to help, Binnie. She was hurt -”

Hanbin pulled on his sister a little too harshly trying to draw her attention, it caused her lower lip to quiver as she tried to hold the tears back. That wouldn’t do she didn’t like it when they cried. “Helping people only gets you into trouble.” Outside, the slamming of a car door could be heard. Quickly Hanbin located the small broom closet and helped YN inside. The jiggling of the doorknob was barely above a whisper, but it rang as loud as the fire alarm in the children’s heads. YN began to hyperventilate knowing what was coming even if she didn’t truly understand why.

“It’s okay,” Hanbin rubs her cheek affectionately. “Just stay inside, be quiet, and don’t try to help.” Just like that he closed the door and locked it. He silently hoped YN hadn’t skipped lunch that day. YN cowered under the old headboards, her only company the dusty cleaning products and cobwebs, the second the screaming started she covered her ears and closed her eyes.

“Miss YN?” The nurse’s bright pink scrubs served as a strong contrast to the muted tones of the rest of the building. YN cast a glance around she was likely the youngest person there, but everyone around her shared a similar air of ennui that YN had long grown to associate with doctor’s offices. Slowly she stood up following the nurse as she guided her through what appeared to be an endless labyrinth of doors. After stopping abruptly the nurse turns around and smiles though it’s evidently rehearsed. “Don’t be nervous, Dr. Kang is one of the best doctors here.” How many times hadn’t she heard that before? YN offers the nurse a smile making sure it is wide enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes. That seems to suffice the woman enough for her to finally knock on the door.

Dr. Kang Daniel was certainly young for his profession, but that provided some relief for YN. It would be nice not to spend almost an hour with someone that looked to have been around when Freud was. “Please take a seat.” He gestures over to a chair in front of the desk and YN notices there is little decoration around the room. It’s also missing a clock, but thankfully she sees Kang is wearing one. YN notes the time: 5:36 pm. Forty-three more minutes to go.

“I apologize that we’re going to have to go through all of this, but its procedure.” He lightly shakes the file in his hand. Most doctors operated digitally now, so that stood out.

“It’s fine.”

“Let’s get to it then. Why are you here YN?”

They went over the usual things and YN was quickly growing a bit bored, her eyes danced around the room as she did find it very strange that it seemed so vacant for a personal office. “Bored?” Her eyes snapped back to his, Kang wearing an unreadable expression. “I apologize for the lack of decor. I recently moved offices, so this will be my last day here.” YN frowned, “I thought I was to be your new patient.” Kang nods, “Yes, but our sessions will be held in my consultation. It’s closer to downtown so you might save yourself the trip.” How does he know I live closer to downtown? Perhaps seeing the further furrowing of her brow Kang speaks once more. “Unless you live far from downtown?” YN shakes her head feeling the tension leave her body just a bit.

Slowly he closes the file and leans forward, resting on his elbows. “I know this isn’t the most comfortable environment. I also know how jarring transfers can be and that they can halt any sort of process…” YN zones out of the conversation having heard it a thousand times since she was eleven years old. The rambling tends to have the same conclusion every single time.

‘I want us to be friends.’

“I want us to be friends or something similar. I know there are some barriers and guidelines in our relationship, but don’t think they aren’t malleable. I’m here if you need me.”

YN mulls over what might serve as an appropriate response, aware that taking too long might ruin the pseudo-friendly atmosphere and she doesn’t want to have any more problems with psychiatrists. “Thank you, Dr. Kang. I’m sorry I’m just a bit nervous.” The sheepish smile that follows afterward is enough to convince Kang. Perhaps he isn’t a bad man but YN has encountered his type far too often: those striving to make a difference. Always trying to make things better. Always trying to help.

“No one will help us, YN. No one cares about us.”

“So let’s move onto your family YN -”

“Actually I wanted to ask you about my medication.” Kang seemed surprised at her interruption but encouraged her to continue. “Dr. Lee only gave me enough medication to last the transfer, so I’m almost out.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll be taking you off the medication for a short time anyway.” What? Kang’s attention was now on his computer, not bothering to look at YN in the eye. “I need to run some tests and in order to do that your system has to be clean.”

YN hadn’t been off her medication for a long time. Sure the dosage varied depending on the treatment, but going completely off was unheard of. Especially so soon. “Don’t worry,” Kang smiled. “There shouldn’t be any potential side effects and if there is I’ll give you my private number. In case of emergencies.” What was supposed to be a soothing smile only unnerved YN even more. YN nodded once more though she felt her anxiety begin to swell up in her stomach. Her heart rate speeding up, but YN knew a panic attack wouldn’t do her any favors. It would make her look like an addict and they would lock her up for sure. It’s only a matter of time. Now that the issue had been cleared Kang cleared his throat, “Now what I was saying about your family -”

YN stood up abruptly thankful the minute hand had finally landed one above the four. “It’s 6:19 our time is up.” She gestures towards his wristwatch and an annoyed look masks his face before it went just as quickly as it came. “It appears so.” His hand covers the watch in a motion that could hardly be described as casual. Kang waves her off, “It was a pleasure meeting you, YN. I’ll schedule the tests for Friday and I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“In other news….updates...gang violence…”

YN wandered through the aisles looking for inspiration or something to satisfy her cravings. In her hand lay open her phone just so she wouldn’t have to keep making eye contact with the older woman behind the cash register. The employee peered at her as if YN was one of the dangerous criminals the news anchors droned on about. YN keeps looking over the message her social worker sent her: you have to be there at least a month before I could put in a transfer request. When YN bent down to read the label, she felt the woman lean over the counter. YN rolled her eyes and picked up the packaged bulgogi before grabbing a sports drink and a small fruit salad.

Once she saw YN was an actual paying customer, not a shoplifter, the woman’s expression changed. Her smile far too gleeful for this time of night. “Will that be all, dear?” Her voice too high to be sincere. Nonetheless, YN nods and forces a polite smile on her face. Even wishes the woman a safe night for extra measure. Before YN could walk out of the store, the woman responds with her own form of goodnight. “I would be careful walking home tonight. There’s been a lot of crime recently.”

It is a bit cruel that the second YN exits the store and turns a corner someone begins to follow her. She becomes aware of it instantly, her senses having been trained from a young age to pick up on the small imperceptible changes. Instinct was not to be ignored. The wind became thicker and the streets a little too quiet. YN wouldn’t look up, but if she did, surely there would be storm clouds looming. Don’t acknowledge him. Just keep walking. People like that enjoyed prey. The game. No one wanted to face off against a predator being one. Unless this was a different kind of predator then YN really ought to call the police. For once she was thankful for the pocketknife stored in the inner pocket of her jacket but disappointed that her pepper spray remained stashed in her bag.

Her groceries hung heavy on her arm, but YN was too far from home to attempt to sprint. So she would have to wait it out, YN could take a few punches. Surely whoever it was would become tired after following her for too long. By the time YN had walked ten blocks, she realized that was not the case. The person was still behind her, though there wasn’t much that she could tell much about the person. They were likely taller and considering their persistence they were a threat.

YN could pick up distantly on the booming bass that likely came from one of the many clubs scattered downtown. It meant she was near her house, that she could likely get home. The houses looked familiar she was probably not too far from home. Hope began to swell in her chest until another idea dawned on her. That’s exactly what they want. If the person had followed her this far they wanted to see where she lived. Abruptly YN turned left towards the direction of the main street, she was likely in a back alley of some sort but the bass only got louder so that helped propel her forward.

Towards the center of the alley, YN saw three figures huddled over on the ground. She was too far off to hear what they were saying, but based on their movements it seemed mocking in nature. YN wasn’t able to decipher what was occurring until it was far too late. A man is wriggling on the ground while bleeding profusely from the side of his head while two men stand above him. Blood is spattered on both walls and their clothes are covered in it. There no longer was a presence behind her the real danger now lay in front. In the form of a tall raven-haired man and a slightly shorter blonde - the latter of which YN made eye contact with.

YN bolts down the alleyway in the opposite direction aware that the blonde is hot on her tails. As she rounds a corner she feels him catching up to her right on her before he abruptly slows down. He doesn’t want the chase to end.

56...57...58…

YN counts the streets aware she’s nearing her apartment but isn’t about to lead him straight to her doorstep. In her peripheral, she sees one of the neighboring buildings which contains a doorman stationed there twenty-four hours. YN uses the last bit of her strength to push through the glass doors tumbling at the steps, but the doorman is there to catch her. “Miss, is everything alright?” YN turns around to catch a glimpse, but there’s no one behind her. Though she does note something disappointing: her groceries are gone.

When YN unlocked her apartment door she felt this immediate wave of tranquility hit her. It had taken a while to convince the doorman not to contact the police, she didn't want to be in bigger trouble, but the man had finally agreed after stating he would walk her back home. Once in the lobby, she took the stairs just to be safe. Quickly, she turned around securing all three locks, and headed straight for the bathroom. YN never understood the sentiment behind showers helping unwind, then again she never spent enough time under the water to allow for that. Baths weren't a treat - they were a utility. Like most utilities YN didn't have a lot of available growing up, so she learned to adapt.

Still, it was long enough to let her mind wander to everything that had occurred today. YN wasn't quite sure about how she felt about Dr. Kang, he unnerved her in a way other doctor's hadn't before. Then there was the issue regarding her medication: YN hadn't been unmedicated since she was eleven and that was a time she didn't want to go back to. Then there was the person that may have followed her and the man that definitely did. My head hurts. She rinsed herself and shut the water off, drying herself quickly with her towel. The chase had been real, too real, everything in YN's body had reacted instinctively once she met his eyes. Those dark eyes that had pierced into hers. The blonde man wasn't just chasing YN - he was hunting her down.

But what about the other person? YN hadn’t seen them, but she had felt them trailing after her. However, why would someone do that and especially for so long? The blonde man had only really tracked YN down for two blocks, but even then it felt shorter. The other person simply observed her. Didn’t do anything. Was there even someone there? YN glanced up, catching her reflection in the foggy mirror. The mist had dispersed in some sections, but not others so the only thing she could see were parts of her face. Faltering in her step, she walked forward and pulled the mirror open. Grabbing the white-labeled bottle with her name printed on it.

Habin sits atop the bathroom sink balancing himself. One of his hands gripping tightly to the side to not slip. This has to be done quickly before she gets back from the store. YN holds his legs or attempts to, while Habin finally manages to grab the bottle. “Is it this one?” He sticks his hand out for YN to see. The young girl squints her eyes, “Are they blue and little?” Hanbin looks through the orange tint of the bottle before nodding. “I think so.”

“Do they smell like fruits?”

“I can’t open the bottle YN. I don’t know if they smell like fruit.”

YN nods and Habin notes how hollowed out her face has become. Once round and plump, full of life, now looks as frail as his. “I think those are the ones.” Habin closes the medicine cabinet and cautiously jumps off, the medicine bottle still tight in his hands. “Why does she give them to you?” YN can note the confusion in her brother’s face, she was confused before too. “She says I need them to go to sleep. They help me sleep.” Habin stays quiet before in the blink of an eye he throws the pill bottle against the wall, breaking the seal causing all the pills to spill all over the floor.

“Bin why did you do that?! I need -”

“No! You don’t need anything YN. You aren’t sick, she's just lying to you!” Habin screamed in frustration. He could see the tears starting to well up in YN’s eyes and he felt regret pool in his stomach. “Please YN. You aren’t sick. We aren’t sick. Okay?”

YN took a deep breath, the way her brother had shown her would help stop the tears, the inside of her cheek was bitten harshly until her throat cleared up. “Okay.”

YN looks at the white bottle in her hand considering taking the medicine despite what Kang said. It would just be one more. Just to calm her down. To make sure that what happened tonight wasn't a side effect of going off so quickly. Her hand twisted the bottle cap, but instead of grabbing one and placing it in her mouth, she headed towards the toilet flushing them all away. Though she might not agree with his treatment plans Dr.Kang was a professional and surely knew more than she did. Plus, YN couldn't afford to be transferred again; her social worker might drop her altogether. It’s just until the blood work is completed.

“Unfortunately Miss YN, we won’t be able to conduct any tests until your insurance approves it.”

YN paces around her apartment, phone in hand. “I understand but my doctor ordered it. It’s necessary in order for him to treat me.”

“It appears that the necessary paperwork hasn’t been sent over to the insurance company. At least not enough to justify the exams. You can go through with them, but it will have to be out of pocket.”

YN sighs, running her hand through her hair as the nurse lists off the prices for each exam. A knock disrupts her causing YN to glance at the door questioningly, no one in her building would ever knock on her door. Looking through the peephole, she sees the manager and doesn't know if that makes her relieved or tenser. "I'm sorry can you just give me a minute?" YN speaks to the phone and mutes it, just to be safe. Upon opening the door, a brown bag is shoved in her face.

“Sorry to interrupt dear, some boy left this for you downstairs.”

Just as quickly as he came, the manager leaves. YN quickly shuts the door and locks it, before hanging up the call. The bag looks simple enough though YN hadn’t ordered anything in the past couple of days. Cautiously she opens it and the horror that spreads through her body is instantaneous. In the bag are her groceries from last night, but with minor changes: The red energy drink is now blue, the fruit salad is replaced with regular salad, and instead of bulgogi it is kimchi now. Though it isn’t the food that upsets YN, but rather the pink sticky note placed on top.

To replace everything you lost ;)

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Staying locked inside her apartment for the following days seemed like a smart choice. There was someone out there who knew where she lived. What she looked like. YN was used to being preyed upon, but this was a different game. Not one she was accustomed to. There were enough faded white lines and healed over bones to evidence that she was a survivor. That time and time again YN had faced against monsters and gotten out alive. The thing that terrified her about this monster - was how different he was. She kept waiting for the tall blonde man to show up one night: looming over her whilst she slept, crouching in a dark corner of the room. Lurking behind the shower curtain.

YN wasn’t able to sleep, didn’t bathe, and had thrice rearranged the room so there was no furniture to hide behind. Her paranoia was through the roof and it didn’t help that it had been the first time YN was off her medication for an extended amount of time. Which was bound to be causing more problems than she was aware of, or would like to acknowledge. The cycle continued until on her fourth day, sick of the grime, YN picked up the phone and dialed Dr.Kang’s office. Hoping to resolve the issue and be back on medication as soon as possible.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Kang isn’t in the office today. However, I can schedule a house call”

She hung up, not even bothering to respond to the secretary on the other line. If YN would have allowed herself a moment to feel anything except for fear - sympathy would've been felt for the probably nice young woman she had just hung up on. Maybe I can just sleep until my next appointment. Sleep it all away. So YN crawled into her bed, the covers lie somewhere on the floor. Exhaustion taking over as she drifted off to sleep.

It should've been easier to tell her childhood room apart from all the ones she had before. It had the most personality; if stickers on the wall, old pencil marks, and deteriorating plaster counted. Most of them hadn't even been done by her, but rather Habin in time before her. It created a sense of normalcy in YN's life that didn't exist elsewhere. Of course, her safe haven didn't last long, the hole in the wall right near the bed frame was proof enough. YN couldn't remember the last time she had dreamt, the medication helped with the nightmares, now she stood curled in a ball in the center of the room. The way she would always get once she heard the heavy footsteps approach the hallway.

YN had long learned to tell the different patter of the weathered old sneakers. Heavy stomps that scraped against the wood meant she was going to be screamed at. Rhythmic ones that were heavier on the heel, than the toes meant they might get dinner. While footsteps that dragged meant YN would be getting ignored. It was the ones she didn't hear. When the hallway was so quiet that all YN could hear was the sound of her breathing and the fear rushing through her tiny body - those were the steps she feared. Those were typically followed by the gentle, yet suspenseful pushing of her bedroom door. It didn't have a knob. There was no escape.

YN expected to peer up and see the tall large figure that always tormented her. The thick thighs, rounded hips, a bulbous stomach that spoke of all the meals she'd had - all the ones her children hadn't - and her face. It was much like YN's though much more feminine, older, and eyes devoid of life. It had always stood out to YN when she was a child, though she was certain that if she were to look in a mirror now YN would be the spitting image of her mother. Instead of her birth giver stood a man.

His face was angular, rounded cheeks, and sharp eyes highlighted by thick brows. His lips appeared full as if they were meant for bright large smiles, but it was obvious from the man’s expression he rarely did. There was something strangely familiar about him. An amalgamation of someone she knew and her own imagination, filling in the blank spaces. He looked like her, yet not at all. Tears welled in her eyes, “Bin?” Then he morphed. Now slightly taller, more weight to his frame. A rounded face with hooded eyes, the corner of his lips were tilted upwards in a way that was full of mirth. Dr. Kang faded as quickly as he came.

Now all she saw was a silhouette. Despite being mostly obscured, she could at least tell it was a man. He was lean yet muscular. His body was sharply defined in a way that seemed deliberate. Facial features were obscured, but YN was certain he was glaring at her in a way that caused goosebumps to rise all over her body. Plump pink lips parted moving slowly, tauntingly, but no sound exited them. Only by the smirk formed afterward could she tell their salacious nature. He stepped forward drawing closer to her, but the way he moved was inhumane. It wasn't a walk. But a predator's crawl towards her. Now he was finally in the light, entirely visible but all YN could focus on was the blonde mop of hair atop his head. When he pounced, she screamed.

YN awoke covered in sweat, her hair matted against her forehead and neck. She could still taste the saltiness of her tears and when she finally managed to breathe a sob tore out. Get out! Get out! Get out! If she remained locked inside her apartment for one more second, YN was going to reach her breaking point. Quickly she hopped in the shower before throwing on the first thing she saw and grabbing her wallet. YN didn’t know where she was headed, but her body acted on its own. Locking the apartment door before racing towards the stairs, dashing down all seven floors with little care if she tripped. Perhaps a silent part of her wished she did, it would put her out of her misery.

The lobby of her apartment building, if it could even be called that, was always empty. Never a soul in sight to guard the door, even though YN was sure part of her rent went towards security. Not to mention the intercom system, which allowed people to be buzzed in, hadn't worked for several weeks. It was something she was always acutely aware of but pushed towards the back of her mind. Wouldn't do her any favors to obsess over something she had no control over. Now walking through the desolate lobby out into the night - it was all she could think about. He was all she could think about.

YN took a deep breath and opened the glass doors sneakily peeking towards the sides and being thankful when she noted nothing great. Now where to? She wouldn't go very far nor somewhere unknown. It was reckless to be out so late and would be a death wish to try and enter city life. Gang violence was on the rise and YN didn't fancy herself prepared to face off against someone. So, YN went to the one place that felt familiar no matter what. The convenience store was a fifteen-minute walk, but she took the bus. The original plan was to sit towards the back, where she could see everything, but it wasn't empty. An elderly woman, far too frail-looking to be out this late, sat in the center. Whilst three boys huddled over sat in the back, they must have felt her eyes on them. As one of them - the one in the black beanie - stopped his conversation and turned slightly. Before they could make eye contact YN looked away and sat down.

“Which one do you want?” Habin asked as they stared at the ice cream truck. He had counted the cents twice making sure they had enough. “Hm,” YN eye’s glanced all over the various images glued onto the truck. She already knew what she wanted but had long learned that taking your time was important - not too much though. “Mint choco.” Habin grimaced, disgust evident on his face. “Come on YN. We have to share it. Why can’t we get something I like for a change?” He whined, it was only ice cream but it was the only food Habin was likely to have all day. “Okay, let’s get chocolate then.” YN didn’t really care, she wasn’t planning on eating. Habin had sacrificed enough meals to feed her, an ice cream was the least she could do.

As she steps into the cold building, a small bell chimed to signal her entrance, alerting a young employee near the cashier.

“Welcome!” The boy smiles, wide and welcoming, handing her a basket,

YN didn’t respond. She walks towards the back, looking for some of her usual snacks, and before long, her basket was filled to the brim with all sorts of colorful foods, and she headed towards the till to pay, grimacing under the weight pulling at her arm. As she pulls out her purse, a soft chime catches her attention, making her glance at the door quickly, before trailing her eyes back. A familiar head of blonde flashes in her mind immediately, and despite herself, she found herself clenching her purse tightly, feeling her palms become clammy with sweat. What were the odds..?

“Is that all?” the cheery voice of the employee breaks her out of her trance as she nods back firmly, unable to push aside the nervous feeling from seeing the person walk in. Quickly weighing the options as she sees him bag all her groceries, she forces the question out before she can stop herself.

“Could you...walk me to the bus station?” Her voice was awkward and tight from keeping quiet most of the day, and she internally winced at the confused expression the other gave her.

“Are you..” he pauses, eyeing her carefully, “is someone trying to hurt you?”

YN doesn’t know what to say. Could she tell him what she saw? Fortunately, she didn’t have to reply. The boy - Kai, as it said on his tag - seemed to assume her pause was a yes. Excusing himself, he disappears behind the counter, and within a moment, hushed voices coming from there. Something was unnerving about standing there alone with the blonde, chilling her to the bone, knowing she was faced away and he could pounce at any moment. As soon as the terrifying thoughts crept in, Kai stepped back out. He takes her bag and silently leads her out the glass doors, warm, still air hitting her face the minute she left the building. They walk side by side silently, and YN could only count her steps as she got closer and closer to the station.

Her steps quicken when she sees the familiar structure, tall gray pillars, and a few large buses waiting. Kai keeps up with her as well, not bothered by the bag that seemed to drag her down, looking around carefully.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, what she initially assumed to be his practiced ‘customer service’ smile seemed a little more genuine now. Or maybe he was just very good at it - she wasn’t sure. She takes back the plastic bag, letting herself get used to the additional weight before turning to board the bus.

“Have a safe trip home!” The boy calls out, making her look back.

YN was expecting to see him with his blinding smile, but something eerier catches her eye. The young employee was standing a few steps away from her, and behind him, dangerously close, was the blonde man from before. Her mouth goes dry as she notices his dark gaze fixated on her hand that held the railing inside, something else in them as he cocked an eyebrow. He almost looked as if he was questioning her, asking what she would do now that he was close, much closer, and positioned to attack the boy. Realizing he must have followed her all the way, she felt her heart rate pick up as she found herself rapidly staring between Kai and the perpetrator, the choices dawning on her. She had to choose to leave Kai behind, or possibly die with him.

She felt her heart drop at the calm expression on the boy's face, not noticing the danger he was in, she knew he was young, but watching him now, she only just realized how young. He was so young, so innocent, with a whole life ahead of him - but because of some unfortunate circumstance, an unforeseeable future, he would have to throw everything away.

But if she stayed for him, so would she. She would have to give up everything she had struggled for, while in any circumstance, the blonde would kill Kai, regardless of whether she chose to stay or not. However, she could spare her own life. She couldn’t convince Kai to get on with her without alarming the man, but she could save her own life. After everything she had gone through, trouble was the last thing YN needed. Even if it meant someone else had to suffer alone, she had to stay safe. She found herself holding back hot tears as she quickly ducked into a lonely seat, refusing to look back, still clenching the cheap plastic in one hand and forcing herself not to look back as the tears freely slid down her cheeks.

‘Helping people only gets you into trouble. You do whatever it takes to survive.’

“They tell me you’ve missed the appointment I had set up.”

YN is noticeably tense as she sits in the blue velvet mid-century, her nails digging into the denim fabric of her jeans. “The insurance wasn’t notified,” her tone was clipped. Lower with a slight tremble to it as if it were about to break, but never really did. “I also needed a referral.” Dr. Kang frowned, glancing back down at the file before looking at YN questioningly. “That’s strange. I told my secretary to handle all the paperwork. I even told Joy to hand you the referral.” Seeing the confused expression on his patient’s face, he shrugged. “My apologies, Joy must have forgotten.” The smile he shoots her is sincere, or at least looks so, YN has no reason to doubt him any further on this matter.

Her posture slackens somewhat but given everything that has happened these past few days she finds it difficult to truly relax. YN feels that she is tethering at the edge of a breakdown, but that if she were to fall it would only make her circumstances worsen. There is something that has been bothering her though, how pacified everything has been as of late. The blonde man knew where she lived, he'd likely overheard her name as well, yet nothing had happened. Even Kang, with his cold calculating eyes, had not commented on her odd behavior the last session or how worse she had seemed to get after only being off her medication for a week. Why can’t I figure them out?

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to assign you any new medication until I have the results from the bloodwork. However, I do want to know how you’ve been feeling lately.” Kang crossed his legs, leaning forward in his seat. “Have you been experiencing any side effects or withdrawals? Anything I should know about?”

There was a glint in his eyes as he spoke, one that warned YN that he may know more than he lets on. As if the man sitting in front of her was single-handedly responsible for everything that had occurred to her recently. "Normal things…" I am being stalked by a homicidal maniac. “Migraines, low blood pressure…” I keep having vivid flashbacks that only serve to increase my paranoia. “Sometimes I dissociate a bit.” Most importantly, doctor, I had a nightmare where you were about to kill me. “And trouble sleeping.” YN looked towards the ceiling, feigning as if she were in deep thought. “I think that’s it.”

Kang Daniel looked affronted as if she had not given a sufficient enough answer. Hadn't given him the answers he wanted. "I see." His eyes darted towards her hands, which had been tightly intertwined on her lap - immediately she relaxes them. When their eyes meet once more she levels with him. YN knows there is no point in engaging with Kang, that is exactly what he wants. To pry. Dig deep. Learn of all her secrets and who knows what else. He won’t win. I’m safe here. YN had suffered too great a loss yesterday, she was determined to win this game.

“I had time to go over your file YN. There’s a lot to discuss, but I would prefer to dive right in if you don’t mind.”

“I-”

“Very well,” She’d upset him. YN wasn’t even truly aware of what she’d specifically done, but it seemed to matter very little. “It states here you’ve been diagnosed with a personality disorder - at quite a young age too.

“I was ten.” YN’s voice is muted. Her mind blank.

“Do you agree with this diagnosis?” YN shrugs, her eyes move down to the file. She knows what he’s going to say next. Or she can at least predict it: it typically doesn’t vary. No matter how many times she goes through the same process the words and intentions are the same. It isn’t sincere sentiments, but rather rehearsed lies spewed to make her feel better - as if she ever could. No, YN is broken. No fixing her up.

“I don’t. I think you were misdiagnosed.” YN’s eyes widen as they shoot back up to meet Kang’s. “The main reasoning behind this is because of your apparent lack of empathy, but that isn’t true either is it, YN?” Her mouth felt dry, she struggled to swallow the saliva building up. There was a build-up of breath in her lungs which was starting to become painful and she felt her throat tighten. “It’s a survival tactic. An effective one at that - if I may be honest.” So many thoughts were rushing to the forefront of YN’s head. So many memories. Stop. She wanted to scream. Please stop! She felt like she was going to throw up. Kang bent over, his face so close to YN's that she could see how dilated his pupil was: only leaving a sliver of his iris shines through.

Why is he doing this?!

“You feel something YN. It’s okay to feel things. You aren’t with your mother anymore anymore. You aren’t with your brother anymore. You’re safe and I know the next time something happens you’ll do the right thing.”

YN’s eyes were red, brimming with unshed tears as Kang’s words bounced around her head. “Dr. Kang -” She chokes, a sob threatening to escape, but the man doesn’t allow her to finish. “Our time is up. Pick up your referral at Joy’s desk. I will see you on our next appointment.” The smile given is full of sadistic glee.

YN didn’t know how long she had spent wandering around the city. Last she knew she had passed the bus stop and convenience store from last night. If she were smart YN would’ve gone back to her apartment. She didn’t want to though, not trusting herself to be alone. It had been mid-afternoon when she had left Kang’s office. Now it was pitch black with only a few people walking down the streets and cars passing by. Her phone was tucked away in her bag, YN couldn’t muster up enough energy to reach for it to know her location. The tears she shed had long ago dried, though their evidence remained clear to see on her face due to the streak marks and reddened nose.

Several voices were speaking to her, memories, all pulling her in different directions. One by one, YN blocked them out until only three remained. Her brother’s: “You’re not sick.” Dr. Kang’s: “You’ll do the right thing.” Lastly, the faintest one of all - hers: "What do I do?" She had muttered it without realizing it. A cry for help that traveled through the wind, searching for an answer or a sign. She would be granted one.

The scream was so loud, it tore straight through the foggy haze that had settled in her mind and YN found herself frozen in place. Glancing upwards, she noted that a few feet away to the left was an alleyway. That was it, wasn’t it? Yet her feet wouldn’t move. Her brother’s voice echoed so loudly that it barely allowed her to breathe much less move. Until, a stronger, much more powerful one broke through - “It’s okay to feel things...I know you’ll do the right thing.” Her feet were moving before YN had even a second to dwell on her decision. The alleyway was, deceptively long, but YN could see several silhouettes just from the entrance. Quickly she dug her hand into her bag and pulled out her phone, dialing emergency services but hovering over the call button. YN didn't even know where exactly she was - nor did she know what was going on either. It wouldn't do well to just rush in, thankfully about ten feet inlay a giant dumpster which YN crouched behind.

Another scream echoed off the brick walls, a cacophony of laughter followed it. There’s more than one. YN had hoped it was a robbery or something simple, now she realized just how in over her head she may be. You can still walk away YN. Just walk away. Cautiously YN moved to sneak a glance. There was a singular lamp attached to one of the buildings that illuminated most of the alley. The faint light didn't allow her to make out specific features, but it was enough for her to bear witness to the disturbing scene. Seven men were standing all loosely crowded around a young couple: a man and woman whose bodies were severely bruised and beaten. The man's skull was cracked open with blood profusely leaking from the side of his head. Several teeth were scattered on the ground and his hand was tightened around his abdomen which seemed to have been cut as well. The woman beside him had most of her clothing ripped and large bruises on her side, an indicator of broken ribs. Her eyes moved deliriously as she muttered to herself.

YN’s attention lay entirely on the victims until she witnessed a crowbar fly through the air and land on the man’s leg, with a sickening ‘crack’ that had YN feeling nauseous. The man was too out of it to do anything but let out a small howl of pain. Her previous assumption had been right, there were seven men: all standing there with blood-stained clothes and mocking the man. There was something familiar about them, but YN couldn’t pinpoint what. All of them cheered as the man’s now dead body slumped to the side. Her phone had been long forgotten, YN observed everything now with a morbid fascination. Taking advantage of the perpetrator’s lack of attention the woman stood up slowly and bolted, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement and alerting them their prey had gotten away.

None of them moved - they simply observed her and YN watched in shock. Why aren’t they chasing her? Would they actually… By now the woman was only a few feet away from the entrance, she passed by YN and must've caught sight of YN's hunched over the figure for the woman's head snapped towards her. Causing both women to miss the figure dashing in their direction until it was too late. The woman was harshly tackled to the ground, her head bouncing off the pavement in sickening motion. There is a glint of something in his hand before a dagger plunges into the young girl's body multiple times. In a desperate move, she extends her hand reaching out towards YN begging for help but YN remains frozen. Eyes wide and teary as she cowers as close as she can to the wall, shaking her head she begs the woman not to speak. Begs her not to draw the perps attention. Please don’t!

“Please help me.”

The perpetrators head snaps towards YN and she finally sees him. He's tall, lean figure, plump lips, cat eyes, and ruffled blonde hair. The blood splattered across his face revealed the dark truth behind his angelic features. His dark hooded eyes trail across YN's body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The blonde man looks like a predator savoring its next meal. Before he can pounce YN takes off running, unfortunately, he captures her with ease. Caging her body against his own, pillowy lips part and it dawns on YN she has never heard him speak before.

“Caught you.”

Just like that their game has come to an end, surely YN’s life will too. The two of them are so enraptured in each other, they don’t notice the figure slowly standing up and grabbing the abandoned knife on the floor. Not until the blonde man’s body sags slightly and YN notices the woman standing behind them. Don’t. She wants to say, furious that the woman wouldn’t have run away - escaped when she had the chance. For YN couldn’t bear another dead body on her subconscious. The blonde man turned around with pure rage steaming off his body, upset that his prey would dare to fight back. His arms gripped her head and with the slightest flick of his wrist, he broke the girl’s neck. When he turned back around to face his prize, he was shocked to find her expressionless staring at the corpse right in front of her.

YN came to a disturbing conclusion: She wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t helped me. As she once again made eye contact with the monster before her, all YN could see was her reflection in his eyes. Hanbin was right.

The man stepped forward and YN stepped back, crashing into the wall. His hands gripped at her sides, nails digging into her flesh harshly. He was formulating a plan, thinking about how best to kill her - YN could see it. It seems the universe had decided to take pity on her, or further condemn her, for just as his eyes were beginning to light up, the rest of the group made their presence known. “Jimin let’s go. The fun’s over.” Jimin? There was something familiar about that name.

“Funs not over yet, boys.” As if she weighed nothing, Jimin grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. YN struggled against him, aware that if she couldn’t handle one man, there was no way she could survive seven. “I finally found my pet.” What? When Jimin finally put her down, his arms encased her again showing her off to his friends as if she was some shiny new toy, they could look at but not touch. As YN glanced at them she found she recognized some of them, they’re from the bus. At that moment she realized that death had been following YN for a long time and even if she hadn't stepped into the alleyway tonight, their paths would have crossed eventually.

“Ah, so you’re the girl Jimin’s been obsessed with.” The tall tan one with curly dark hair spoke, his low baritone voice was mocking in nature.

“She’s not that pretty.” muttered another one, with rounded eyes and a tall nose.

“Now, come on kookie. Don’t be mean, she’s a lot prettier than what we’re used to.” The third man’s tone was higher pitched, lips stretched into a heart-shaped smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you think we should do, Namjoon?” spoke the light-haired one dawned in all black. His eyes darting over to the tallest member, his platinum hair shining brightly in the dark alleyway.

When Namjoon spoke it was deliberate and calculated, his eyes boring into YN’s, his words dripping with implication. “We should take this one to go.”

Distantly YN could hear the wailing of sirens rushing towards them before Kookie stepped forward and delivered a right hook to her face, making her lose consciousness.

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smoaking-greenarrow · 4 years ago

Text

If I Tremble chapter 21: Clutch

Rated M

(Gif)

“Do you think in another life, or on one of those other earths...you could’ve been a mechanic?”

Oliver paused for a moment, and then continued adjusting the gear on his motorcycle, not turning around. His hands and shirt were covered in grease from the engine. It was late.

He was tired.

And he was sad.

Tomorrow, he’d have to say goodbye to his beloved bike. The same one that had helped him escape some risky missions unscathed. Carried him through high speed chases with criminals. But most importantly, the bike held some of his fondest memories. And all of those fond memories involved Felicity pressed against him somehow.

Oliver had owned this motorcycle when he first met her. He could still remember the first time she got on it and how good it had been just to feel her there.

It was dark and raining. They’d just had a long day at Queen Consolidated; the kind of day where he was irritable and snappy with Felicity and she’d given it right back to him. They took a short cease-fire in their snide back and forth so they could go home, eat dinner, and get ready for another night of vigilante business. But the break hadn’t done either of them any good. They were still at each other’s throats by the time they met up with Digg at the lair. Unfortunately, it was also a quiet night on the streets, so Oliver and Felicity had nothing to do but bicker.

After a few hours of it, they finally decided to call it a night. Or rather, after Diggle got sick of playing the middleman, he called it a night for all of them.

But then Felicity’s car wouldn’t start. Digg had already left, so Oliver offered to drive her home. Because of course he wasn’t going to leave her stranded in the Glades. No matter how much she tested his patience on a daily basis, he knew that he cared about her. A lot.

And Felicity accepted the ride, not knowing that he’d brought his bike that night.

Oliver tossed his leg over the seat, unable to hide his smirk as she gaped at him. He’d wondered, once or twice, or maybe more often than he was ready to admit...what it would be like to have Felicity on the back of his motorcycle.

“Hop on, Miss Smoak,” he offered her the helmet, his voice thick and his eyes trained on her.

Her mouth hung open and she shook her head.

Hesitant little thing.

Felicity had never been on a motorcycle. Which he knew. The first time she’d seen his bike, she’d told him as much. And she’d informed him that she had no desire to ever be on one. To be fair, she’d also seen the way he drove, so her fear wasn’t entirely misplaced. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to change her mind. That she wanted to find another way home. But after the tension they’d been sharing all day? Felicity wasn’t about to back down to him.

So she climbed on the back, grumbling to herself about the bus stop a few streets away.

As if he was ever going to leave her at a bus stop alone.

He took his time getting to her apartment, driving slow, making sure she felt safe and sound.

To his amusement, Felicity loved it.

When they finally reached her home and he helped her off the bike, Felicity was smiling ear to ear. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he got her on his motorcycle.

It became sort of a goal for him, actually.

He started taking his bike every day in the hopes that she might need a ride.

Even as the broken man he was back then, it had felt right to have Felicity there with him. That first night and every night after it. The countless rides with her, all while he’d been falling in love.

Granted, ever since Mia was born, it had mostly been collecting dust in their garage, but it still held a sentimental value that made it hard for Oliver to let go of it.

“Mechanics are pretty sexy,” Felicity hummed, pulling him back to the moment.

Oliver turned around to look at her, letting out a sigh as he grabbed a rag off the floor and wiped his hands. “And men who have daughters and sensible cars...they’re not sexy?”

Felicity made a face, lifting her hand to wave the baby monitor she’d brought from Mia’s room. “Oh no, trust me. The loving dad to a little girl thing is...very sexy.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh, giving his bike another glance. It was in better shape than it had been a couple of days ago. After taking the time to fix it up, it was ready to ride again.

Selling it was a better plan than hoarding it in the garage, after all.

“What about an exhausted mom who has sore boobs because her daughter has an incredibly demanding appetite?” Felicity cocked her head to the side, “Or a woman who had to change her clothes because that same daughter just hurled all over her? Super sexy, right?”

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. “You’re always sexy. Trust me.”

“Well,” Felicity moved down the steps into the garage, setting the baby monitor on the shelf near the door. “You didn’t see the mess your child made of my favorite sweater. She chugged that bottle like a college frat boy and then threw up like one, too.”

“She still hasn’t learned that lesson?” Oliver stood up, finally getting a good look at his wife as she came closer. She was barefoot, her legs exposed, because she wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt. His t-shirt.

“Like father, like daughter...” Felicity mumbled back, smiling as she stopped in front of him.

He gulped, leaning against the seat of the bike as his eyes raked down her body. His wife gently nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. “You know,” she whispered, her arms winding around his neck, “we had some good times on this motorcycle. Remember Coast City?”

Oliver’s eyes closed on instinct, the feel of her body and the sound of her voice doing a number on him already. “Of course I remember,” he groaned, nuzzling her cheek.

It was a few months after they came back to Starling. They’d been missing Ivy Town and the summer they spent together, so they’d decided to take a weekend trip to Coast City. On the bike. “That night I took you out to dinner…” Oliver grinned, his voice low, his chest pressed to hers.

“You parked in the alley behind the restaurant.”

“And for some reason, you wanted me to teach you how to drive this thing.”

Oliver couldn’t see her face, but he felt her shiver.

He remembered, very vividly, how he’d put Felicity in front of him on the motorcycle, her hands on the gears, his on top of hers as he sat behind her. “I thought I did a pretty good job,” Felicity chuckled.

She’d only driven it from the mouth of the alley to the end of it once before she stopped the bike and started grinding her ass against him. Which led them to a very heated make out session until Felicity finally insisted that he take her back to the hotel immediately, and Oliver did his best to obey all the speed limits to get there while ignoring a massive boner.

“I guess our days of being spontaneous are kind of over,” Oliver sighed regretfully. As much as he loved being a father, there was a part of him that missed that time in their lives. The freedom of it. The adventure of every day with her. An open road in front of them that could take them anywhere they wanted to be.

And god, did they explore together.

In many different senses of the word.

Felicity shrugged, pushing his leg aside so she could climb onto the motorcycle. “Says who?”

“Uh...the baby who wakes us up two or three times a night?”

She rolled her eyes, “Mia’s sleeping. Let’s say goodbye to this old thing...the best way we know how.”

With a smirk, Oliver climbed onto the motorcycle behind her.

It wasn’t something that he’d ever admit to anyone, especially not the young gentleman who they sold the bike to…but Felicity knew her way around the machine, despite the fact that she’d never driven it outside of that alley in Coast City. She knew where everything was because they’d done... other things on this bike.

Of course, the new owner didn’t need to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to know the details of those things they did.

There had been nights. Dangerous missions and life-threatening encounters. Close calls and moments where one of them thought they might lose the other. Nights when Felicity had been insatiable and Oliver had needed her just as badly, the spark between them full of desperation and relief. Impossible to deny. Nights where they’d needed each other but had nowhere to go, so they got creative.

Having sex on his motorcycle wasn’t really something that they could just do once and then not want to do again.

He’d be lying if he said it was a one time thing.

Wrapping his arms around Felicity, reminded of those moments and how it felt back then, Oliver pressed himself against her back and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hands slid slowly over her stomach, skimming down her thighs as he started to kiss her ear. Then he moved one hand to her hip, pulling her back against him. He ground his hips forward at the same time, and Felicity groaned when she felt his hardening length rubbing against her ass.

Silently, he slipped his other hand up her side, barely letting himself touch her breast before he flattened his palm on her chest, his fingers curling lightly around her throat. Just the right pressure to make her shiver. “Oliver,” she mewled.

He dragged his lips to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way. He only let go of her when she began to roll her body on her own. Keeping his grip on her neck, Oliver dipped his other hand underneath the shirt, kneading one of her breasts.

Felicity plastered herself to him like she couldn’t get close enough, a low cry escaping her mouth. She dropped her head against his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. His tongue demanded entrance, which she easily welcomed.

Oliver could feel her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, her skin getting warmer under his palm.

Her breath grew shallow as his mouth ravished hers.

God. Damn.

It didn’t surprise him anymore how quickly and how thoroughly his wife could turn him on. But it still amazed him. She was letting go, grinding her ass against his cock, and he was practically seeing stars.

Not wasting any time, Oliver leaned over, fumbling to find the keys while Felicity was too distracted to notice. When he turned the keys and started the engine, she gasped at the unexpected sound.

The bike purred to life, vibrating beneath them. Felicity’s hips jerked in response, finding friction.

Oliver kissed her harder. “Turn around,” he growled into her mouth. “Felicity, come here.”

She scrambled to spin around on the seat, nearly falling, but his firm hands guided her movements until she was facing him. Then Felicity hummed as she wrapped her legs around him, the noise mixing with the steady buzz from the motorcycle.

Her hands were on his jeans a moment later, nails digging into his thighs and then his hips. Then she reached for the button of his pants, snapping them open quickly. Felicity moaned as she slipped her hand inside, rubbing him over his boxers, feeling the length of him as he hardened beneath her palm.

Oliver lifted his hips; one arm branded around Felicity’s body as he did his best to pull his pants down. He could barely get them over his ass while he was straddling the bike, but it was enough that Felicity could free his cock.

His jeans were painfully tight around his legs, but as he settled back down on the bike, Felicity started grinding her hips down on him. He groaned in approval as her wet underwear rubbed up and down on his erection.

Felicity rocked her hips against him, her breath catching every time the head of his cock would slip between her folds. And Oliver tried to control his own breathing, his face buried in her throat; her familiar, delicious scent filling his nose.

He was vaguely aware that the garage door was wide open, which left him with the sense of being exposed and vulnerable, despite the fact that no one came to the cabin aside from John, Donna, and Thea.

None of which were expected for a visit tonight.

So the dirt road and sunset ahead was private. Safe, of course. Yet it still provided a thrill behind their actions; the feeling that they were somewhat in public.

“Is the monitor on?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask. His last shred of control.

Felicity gave him a quick, short nod as she pointed to the baby monitor on the shelf.

With the lungs Mia had, they both knew they’d hear it if she did happen to wake up…

“Fuck, Felicity,” he huffed out a breath, giving in to the incredible feeling of doing this with her. Again.

For the last time.

Fuck.

Oliver shoved his hand between them, yanking her underwear to the side and dipping his fingers between her soaked folds.

She was so damn wet.

He bit his tongue to keep from cursing again.

It made it easier that he knew exactly how to get Felicity going. How to really turn her on. Quickly. Because he was certain that as much as he wanted to take his time, he wasn’t going to last very long. He never did when a situation involved his motorcycle and his hot wife. Although this time, at least, there were no life-threatening missions to urge them on.

There was just her.

And god was he desperate for her.

Pushing his fingers inside, Oliver let Felicity set the pace; keeping his fingers straight, curving them to hit the spot deep inside that made her cry out for him.

Each time she thrusted down, her walls would squeeze his fingers tight and his hand would press against her clit.

Oliver ignored his aching cock, begging to be touched, in favor of watching Felicity.

He loved the way she moaned his name.

Loved the way she rode him.

Loved her.

It didn’t take long before her breath on his cheek became shallow. Her fingers pulled on his hair and her legs tightened around his waist, the vibrations of the bike coursing through him and straight to her.

And with one final roll of her hips, Felicity stiffened. She choked on her next breath. Her grip on his hair was hard, making him grit his teeth.

“Oh god,” she whimpered in his ear. “Right there, right there. Yes!”

Oliver straightened his fingers, moving them in and out as fast as he could while Felicity came.

Her legs tightened, shaking around him. Her head fell back, her breath catching.

He finally eased up, coaxing her down from her orgasm as he slowed his movements down, then carefully pulled his fingers out. He brought them to his mouth, and Felicity leaned back to watch him lick them clean.

With a smirk, Oliver tilted his head, his mouth meeting hers.

Felicity’s lips were slow to kiss him back, a sweet sigh falling from them. Oliver sucked on her bottom lip, his hands gliding down her back until he reached her ass. And he kissed her harder, squeezing the flesh, tugging her closer.

Her hips were already starting to move again, seeking friction.

Oliver smiled, giving her ass a light smack.

That’s my girl.

Felicity gasped, her mouth breaking from his while her body instinctively surged closer.

But when he went to kiss her again, she turned her head, letting his lips land on her cheek. With a pout, Oliver trailed kisses along her jaw, stopping at her chin. “What’s wrong?” He mumbled against her skin.

She didn’t answer right away, so he moved lower, licking and sucking a path across her throat. Felicity shivered, arching her back for the briefest moment, but pulled away as soon as he started to press his face between her breasts.

“Felicity?” Oliver frowned, holding her tighter.

Looking up at her, he saw the smile on her face; her lips swollen and red from his beard, her skin flushed, her eyes wide with pleasure. She shook her head once, moving to get off of him and the bike, and this time he let her. Felicity climbed down, using his hand for balance, then she nudged him to get up, too.

Once she had him on his feet, Felicity hooked her fingers through his belt loops and dropped to her knees, taking his pants along with her.

She took his cock in one of her hands, grasping him tightly. She smiled at him with those swollen lips. Stared up at him with those wide eyes. And Oliver instantly groaned, his hips snapping to meet her hand. His hands reached for her head, wanting nothing more than to dive his fingers into her hair and hold on while she did whatever she wanted with him.

But Felicity had other ideas. Her hand flattened against his stomach, “Sit,” she demanded, pushing him back until he fell onto the motorcycle.

‘Oh, fuck,” he huffed as he landed on the seat, the vibrations hitting his backside. But before he could get his bearings back, Felicity’s mouth was on him.

She nipped at his chest, scraped her teeth over one of his nipples, licked her way down to his stomach. And by the time she kissed the tip of his cock, he was already feeling lightheaded. Glancing down at her, he ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so he could see her better. Felicity met his eyes as she swirled her tongue around the head. Oliver sucked in a breath at the sensation, struggling to keep still.

God, he was sensitive.

Felicity grabbed his waist, holding herself steady with her nails digging in. Slowly, she took him between her lips. Inch by inch, he disappeared into her warm, wet, perfect mouth.

Until she had all of him.

Oliver instantly cried out as she swiped her tongue along the underside of his cock, jerking inside her mouth.

He could feel her throat constricting around him. Her teeth gently scraping his length. Her eyes watching him, blinking back some slight moisture as she pulled back and took a deep breath. Then she did it again, taking every inch of him. And again. Always stopping to swallow when her lips reached his balls, making his breath catch as she tightened her throat around him. Felicity kept her movements slow, which she knew drove him crazy in all of the best ways.

When she changed pace, focusing on his head while her hand stroked up and down his shaft, Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure washing over him. The intensity of the bike rumbling beneath him and the things she was doing with her mouth...it was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was rocking his hips towards her until he heard Felicity moan.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again to look down at her. She hummed, giving him a nod of approval. “Oh my god, Felicity,” he grit through his teeth, snapping his hips again. Every time he pushed into her mouth, she’d swirl her tongue around him. And every time he pulled out of her mouth, he’d lean back against the bike and feel the vibrations of the motorcycle, coursing straight to his balls, making his pleasure skyrocket.

He could feel his own orgasm coming as fast and as hard as Felicity’s had, and it was beyond tempting to let his body follow it. But Oliver leaned back, holding her head steady as he pulled out of her mouth with a loud pop.

Felicity furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Her lips, that were even more swollen now, pouted up at him.

He sighed, both in regret and anticipation. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that being buried inside Felicity’s mouth when he came would be incredible. But he really wanted to be buried somewhere else. Oliver stood up again, helping Felicity to her feet. Then he gave her an ardent, slow kiss.

Felicity moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Their eyes met again, each of them smiling. Oliver gently tapped his index finger to her nose, making her giggle.

God, she knew what that sound did to him.

It was a laugh that quickly faded when he grabbed her waist and spun her around. Taking a moment to admire the view in front of him, he pressed his palm against her lower back and guided her to bend over.

Felicity did so willingly, her breaths ragged.

Without a word, Oliver clutched onto her hips, gently kicking her feet apart, spreading her legs. He lined himself up at her entrance, and Felicity gripped onto the seat of the bike.

As he started to push into her, Felicity tossed her hips back, making him moan as he filled her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking, and Oliver let out a breathless chuckle in return. His hands skimmed up her back, his fingers dragging, until he could grip her shoulders. Her smile fell when he pulled out, and she moaned his name when he thrusted back in.

Oliver kept his pace slow, a careful force behind his thrusts, since he knew that the motorcycle couldn’t take too much pressure. But it was more than enough.

As he felt his orgasm begin to build again, he shifted his weight over Felicity, pushing his hand between her body and the bike. And it only took a moment to find the right angle; his fingers working quick circles on her clit as the bike pulsed under them.

Felicity came with a shout, her hands flying to his arm, anchoring herself.

And Oliver followed right behind, spilling inside of her while his body folded over hers.

The motorcycle muffled their cries, the throbbing machine making everything feel more intense.

As he came back to his senses, Oliver lifted his hand from Felicity’s shoulder, keeping the other pressed against her clit, and reached over to turn the engine off. Listening to each of their heavy breaths, Oliver kissed Felicity’s shoulder, every patch of skin that he could reach without having to move.

“Having any second thoughts about selling this thing?” He mumbled against her back.

Felicity laughed, nudging him until he moved off of her. “Was this your way of trying to get me to keep it?”

He slipped out of her with a groan. “Honestly, no. But if you want me to do some more convincing, I’m all for it.”

“I’ll always love the bike...” Felicity shook her head, “But no. It’s always been more about you than the bike.”

He smiled at that, agreeing with the sentiment completely. Everything that he’d just felt had been entirely Felicity’s doing.

“That’s true,” he sighed, noticing that her legs were shaking when she tried to stand, and he quickly moved to pick her up. “I already know how easily you can get me wound up. Basically anytime you want.

“And anywhere,” Felicity grinned as he carried her towards the house, grabbing the baby monitor from the shelf as they passed.

Oliver turned the light off while Felicity pushed the button to close the garage door, each of them giving the motorcycle one last loving, appreciative look. “It may be ‘goodbye’ to the bike,” he whispered in her ear. “But I’m sure that we have a lifetime of thrills ahead of us still.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, “I’m willing to bet you’re right.”

#Arrow #Olicity #olicity fic #If I Tremble #olicity fanfic #Oliver Queen #Felicity Smoak

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Note

Scenario where Aizawa catches his partner crying really hard and he asks what's wrong and they answer with "I just love you so much" And it turns out that they're just having an overwhelm of emotions lol Please and thank you :)

Thanks for the request! I was glad to write something kind of sweet since I’ve been doing a bit of heavier stuff recently. I hope this turned out the way you wanted!!!!

Memories (Aizawa x Emotional!Reader)

Saturdays and Sundays were often just as busy for you as weekdays. Criminal activity didn’t take time off for weekends or holidays, so neither could a hero like you. Every once in a while though, you’d make a big arrest or help out in a fight and earn yourself a day off to rest up and recuperate. Today was one of those days, and normally you had no trouble entertaining yourself since you had friends, family, and a fiancé who were more than willing to fill up your spare time. Today, however, was a rare occurrence where everyone you wanted to see seemed to already have something going on. You hadn’t minded at first, thinking that this was a great chance to actually relax for once, but the boredom of being home alone soon set in. You’d flipped through the channels on your TV enough times to know nothing good was on, so you decided to do something a little more productive instead.

“Let’s see,” you look around the house that you and Aizawa shared with a critical eye. Between the two of you the place was kept fairly tidy, but there was always something that could use a good cleaning if you searched hard enough. You thought the obvious place to start scrubbing was the bathroom, but soon everything in there was sparkling clean so you moved on to other parts of the house. You’d just started pulling stuff off the bookshelf to dust when a certain scrapbook caught your eye. It was a collection of pictures and memorabilia you and Aizawa had put together to document your relationship since getting engaged. Feeling like you could use a break from housework, you plop down on the floor and flip the scrapbook open.

The first couple pages were decorated with pictures of you both from back when you were students at UA. You had been in a different class than him but managed to end up in a few of the same shots taken at various training camps and school festivals. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the quiet, reserved boy Aizawa had been back then. You remember being intrigued by him right away and wondered how someone with a quirk like his had ended up in a hero course. He had always seemed apathetic about everything as he trudged around the school campus, but that impression quickly changed once you saw him in action the first time. A fire had ignited in his eyes as he worked himself ten times as hard as his classmates just to keep up with their powerful quirks. He had really impressed you.

It hadn’t been until after graduation that you really became friends with Aizawa. You had joined an agency that had you patrolling a district right next to his, so you were often rushing over to each other whenever there was a particularly difficult villain situation. There were a handful of newspaper clippings in the scrapbook about some of your more impressive team-ups. Aizawa looked so tired in those pictures, and you knew it was the dark events of his last year of High School that weighed him down. The fact that he had still chosen to get a hero license after that and put every ounce of his passion into saving innocent lives made you admire him even more. And as exhausted as he always seemed to be, he’d always invited you to join him for coffee if your patrols ended around the same time.

You flip to the next page and find photos from your first official date. You had been invited to a charity event and felt brave enough to ask Aizawa to be your plus one. Honestly, you hadn’t even expected him to accept, so it came as a surprise when he easily agreed. He had been so calm about at it that you suspected he might have assumed you meant to go as friends. Your mind was blown when he showed up at your place looking extremely handsome with his hair combed back and wearing a full tux. You’d never forget the way your heart had hammered in your chest when he’d taken your hand into his the first time to walk you into the venue. Somewhere along the way, the quiet boy from school had grown into a confident man. Watching him overcome so many obstacles had earned your deepest respect, so how could you resist falling in love with him?

Feeling nostalgic now, you continue scanning over the pages, reliving the moments you had shared together. The scrapbook was filled with ticket stubs from movie dates, stickers from your favorite cat café, wristbands from the summer music festival you’d dragged him to, and countless other items that each brought back emotions from precious memories. All of them led up to the last page which contained the first picture taken of you both after he’d asked you to marry him. Of course you’d said yes. Aizawa was the love of your life and you couldn’t imagine a better person to spend the rest of your life with.

All the reminiscing suddenly hits you full force and you feel tears well up in your eyes. How had you ended up with such a resilient and compassionate man as a partner? You couldn’t wait to marry him and be his forever. The sound of him calling your name surprises you and you whirl around to see him standing awkwardly in the doorway. He must’ve finished up work a little early or come home for lunch.

“Are you okay?” He asks in concern as he takes in the sight of you on the floor, surrounded by the other items you had taken off the bookshelf earlier and blubbering like a baby. You close the scrapbook and hop up to go wrap your arms around him tightly.

“I just love you so much!” you say through your sobbing and Aizawa lets out a small laugh, keeping you in his arms as he begins rubbing the back of your neck gently to sooth you.

“I love you too,” he states confidently even though he was still a little confused. “But what happened?”

“I found our scrapbook while cleaning,” you sniff and finally pull away to go find a tissue. “I just got a little emotional looking at all our pictures.”

Aizawa hums in understanding while walking over and picking the scrapbook up off the floor. He thumbs through the pages and a small smile grows on his face before he tucks the book back in its place on the shelf. “We’ll have to buy a new one soon,” he says while pulling you back into a hug, “since I plan on making lot more memories with you.”

Aizawa Taglist (Let me know if you’d like to be added!) @clovertitan

#shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shouta aizawa #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #writing requests #my writing #Cindy's Writing

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

Text

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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