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reidsfilm · 5 months ago

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UNDERCOVER — SPENCER REID

dividers credit: cafekitsune.

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: crime, blood, spencer being overprotective, (normal warnings in the series) innuendo to spicy time, physical fight, spencer from season 10, hotch and derek being cheeky fuckers, fluff, a bit of angst.

SUMMARY: SUMMARY: You and Spencer are undercover on a case, acting as a couple. When you stray from the original plan, it leads to danger and ends up with your friendship with Spencer being much more than just that.

WORD COUNT : 6,7k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. I need to start watching Criminal Minds. This isn't proofread!

It had started as a normal case. An unsub had been killing women, taking and leaving behind pieces of themselves. You and Reid had been assigned to go undercover in a bar at night to get any possible leads. You were a couple.

And now here you were, sitting at a table in the bar, your legs crossed and head resting gently in your hand. You weren't actually dating. Not at all. Just working together.

Spencer had a hand on your knee, gently tracing small circles with his thumb as he kept an eye on the patrons in the area.

You glanced around the bar, feeling Spencer's touch on your knee. You tried to remain in the undercover character you had created, sipping your drink and feigning being interested in the people around you. It was hard when Spencer was so close to you, but he made you feel protected, even if it was only for a case.

The bar was bustling around you, music playing in the background while people chatted, laughed, danced, and drank. Spencer’s thumb gently tracing circles on your thigh sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach. It was always like this when the two of you were on a case. It was always so.. different, but no matter what, you trusted him, especially when he got to show his protective side.

You glanced sidelong at Spencer, noticing the small pout that had formed on his lips as he looked around the room. He always wore that expression when he was lost in thought. It was kind of adorable how focused he got. He didn't seem to notice that he was still tracing circles on your thigh, his hand resting there like it was natural. But to you, god it felt like your skin was on fire by his touch.

You continued to watch him, admiring the intensity of his gaze as his eyes scanned the room for any suspicious activity. You knew he was focusing on the case, that was obvious, but as his hand continued to caress your skin beneath the table.. it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the act. Why did he have to be so good with his hands?

Spencer suddenly tensed up, his grasp on your knee growing firmer as he spotted something on the other side of the room. He leaned a little closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice. "Someone is watching us. Don't turn around."

Your heart skipped a beat. His closeness alone sent a shiver down your spine, but hearing his voice in your ear? It was almost too much. You struggled to keep your cool as you casually took another sip from your drink, resisting the urge to turn and see who was watching you.

He moves even closer to you, his hand still firmly on your knee. He was acting so casual as if he didn't notice the effect he was having on you. How unfair.

Spencer noticed the shudder that ran through you as he leaned closer. For a moment, he almost forgot about the case at hand as he took in the sight of you struggling to remain collected. He was tempted to tease you for it, but he knew there were more pressing matters. He let out a shaky breath before whispering to you again. "They're coming closer. Stay calm."

Spencer's hold on your knee tightened as he saw the figure approaching your table. You could feel him tense up beside you, his hand remaining a steady presence against your leg. As the person drew closer, you could see that it was a man, tall, with a sinister smile on his face.

He stopped at your table, his eyes flickering between you and Spencer. "Well, well, well. Aren't you two a lovely couple?"

Spencer forced a polite smile, his grip on your knee growing tighter. He could practically feel your anxiety radiating off you, matching his own. This wasn't good. The man's comment had set off alarm bells in his mind. This guy was definitely the unsub.

"Thanks," he replied, feigning nonchalance. "We like to think we make a good pair."

The unsub's gaze lingered on you, his eyes roaming over your body in a way that made Spencer's blood boil. But he kept his cool, knowing that any overt display of jealousy might give away your cover. He leaned slightly in front of you, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the unsub's leering eyes.

The unsub chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "You two look so cozy together. How long have you been a couple?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, but he managed to maintain his facade of calmness. He wanted nothing more than to deck this guy, but instead, he chose his words carefully. "Oh, we've been together for a few months now," he said smoothly, his hand rubbing small circles on your leg again.

The unsub's smile widened, clearly finding some sick amusement in this situation. "Well, isn't that just adorable," he cooed, taking a step closer. "You seem very much.. in love."

Spencer suppressed a scoff, his hand clenching into a fist under the table. He would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the man's face.

You did your best to maintain a calm and cool demeanor despite the growing sense of unease. The unsub's presence was making your skin crawl, but with Spencer's hand resting on your leg and his protective stance, you remained collected.

"He makes me very happy," you said in a soft voice, glancing at Spencer with a smile that was half-genuine, half-act. "I'm a lucky girl."

The unsub's expression turned almost predatory at your comment. "Oh, I bet he does."

Spencer's eyes narrowed as the unsub leered at you, his grip on your leg growing firmer. He forced himself to remain civil, knowing that one wrong move could compromise the entire operation. But it was difficult, especially when he could see how uncomfortable and uneasy this whole situation was making you.

The unsub leaned closer, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. "He better treat you right," he almost purred. "A pretty thing like you deserves it."

Spencer bristled beside you, his jaw clenching as he bit back a scathing remark. The unsub's leering made him sick, and knowing he couldn't confront the guy outright drove him crazy. He wanted to punch the bastard's lights out, but that would definitely blow your cover.

The unsub smirked, clearly noticing the change in Spencer's demeanor. "Oh, don't like me commenting on your girl." He chuckled. "A little possessive, are we?"

Spencer couldn't hold back any longer.

"Yeah, I am." The words came out through gritted teeth, his hand instinctively rubbing your leg in a possessive gesture. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn't help it. Seeing this creep ogling you was driving him mad.

The unsub chuckled again, clearly amused by Spencer's reaction. "Careful now, pretty boy. Wouldn't want to do something you'll regret."

Spencer clenched his jaw tighter, his knuckles turning white as he held back a torrent of profanities. Seeing the unsub taunt him and openly flirt with you was pushing him to the edge. He was about to snap.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Hotch's voice came through your earpieces. "Keep it cool, guys. We've got eyes on you. Don't let him get to you."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, slow breath to try and regain control. Listening to Hotch's calm but stern voice cut through the tension, reminding him that they needed to keep their cover intact.

Knowing that the team was watching and they had your backs helped to settle the nerves, but the unsub's unsettling presence was still making your skin crawl. And Spencer's obvious tension only heightened the situation.

Meanwhile, the unsub continued to leer at you and Spencer, enjoying the way he was clearly getting to him.

Spencer was trying to regain his composure. He let out a slow breath, his hand still gripping your knee like a vice, but he was clearly struggling to rein in his emotions. Despite his efforts to appear calm, it was obvious to everyone listening through the earpiece that he was on the verge of exploding.

The unsub, of course, noticed this and seemed to relish the power he had over Spencer. He chuckled again, relishing in his ability to provoke a reaction. "Looks like I hit a nerve."

You did your best to maintain a cool facade, plastering on a polite smile as you spoke. "Yeah, my man can get a little overprotective," you said with a laugh, trying to keep your voice light and casual. "It's kind of sweet, really."

You cast a glance at Spencer, hoping he would pick up the hint and reign in his emotions a bit. But with the way his jaw was clenched, it was like trying to tame a lion with a collar.

The unsub snorted, clearly not buying your attempts to downplay the situation. "Overprotective, huh?"

Spencer's grip on your knee grew even tighter, his knuckles white as he tried not to snap. But the unsub's words and the way he was still eyeing you were only fueling the fire.

A thought suddenly flashed through your mind. An idea. A dangerous one, and definitely against protocol, but you were certain you could handle it. You had to let Spencer know, somehow.

You reached down and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a subtle squeeze, hoping he'd pick up on the cue. Then, as casually as possible, you turned to glance at him. "Baby, I need to use the ladies' room, I'll be right back."

Spencer tensed up even more as you spoke, his eyes flicking to you with a mixture of disbelief and concern. He knew you well enough to know when you had a plan. And Spencer had a bad feeling about this one.

He caught the subtle squeeze of your hand, and the tone in your voice when you spoke to him. Danger, danger, danger. He wanted to protest, to tell you not to go alone, not to put yourself in danger, but you were already standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you made your way towards the bathroom, the unsub also watching you leave with a leering gaze. You maintained your calm demeanor, but your heart was racing inside. This was dangerous and stupid, but you were certain you could handle it. Hell, Spencer would probably kick your ass after this, but as long as it got the job done...

You reached the restroom door and pushed it open, stepping inside the dimly lit space.

As the door closed behind you, the sound seemed to echo in your ears. You took a deep breath, pushing aside the nerves and reminding yourself that you were trained for this. You could do this.

You glanced at the mirror above the sink, taking a moment to check your reflection. It was still you, same facade, same expression. But there was a flicker of determination in your eyes, something that hadn't been there before. You were ready.

"What are you doing?"

Damn, you'd almost forgotten about the earpiece. But Hotch's voice snapped you back to reality. He'd seen you stand up and walk to the bathroom, and you could sense his concern through the comm link.

"I have a plan." You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped further into the bathroom.

There was a brief pause before Hotch's response came through the earpiece. "What kind of plan?"

You could practically feel the disapproval in his voice. But you'd already made up your mind.

"I'm going to try and detain him."

Another pause, longer this time, as Hotch processed what you'd just said. You could almost see the disapproving look on his face. "That's not within protocol," he replied, his tone stern. You know you should wait for further instructions, for backup. But you were set on your plan, no matter how much trouble it would end up getting you in.

"I know," you admitted, your voice still hushed. You stepped over to the sink, pretending to fix your hair in the mirror as you continued your conversation. "But it's the best shot we have at him without causing a scene."

"You're putting yourself in danger," Hotch protested, his voice tight with concern. "We can't risk-"

You interrupted him, your voice firm. "I can handle myself. Just trust me, okay?"

The comm line fell silent for a moment as Hotch considered your request. Trust was a big thing in the BAU, and he knew you well enough to know that you weren't one to take unnecessary risks. But you were determined, and he wasn't about to stop you.

"Be careful," he said after a moment, the hint of reluctance still present in his tone.

"Always am," you replied with a hint of a smirk, your voice regaining some of its usual confidence. The nerves were still there, but you pushed them aside. Time to focus.

"Keep an eye on Spencer, would you? I don't want him charging in here like a bull."

You could hear a huff of amusement through the earpiece as Hotch replied, "I'll try. You know how he is."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, knowing full well how protective Spencer could be. But you had a job to do, and you needed to remain focused.

"I'll report in once I got him cornered. Wish me luck."

With that, you pulled off the earpiece, not wanting to draw attention to yourself with any potential noises. This was it. Time to see if your plan would work or blow up in your face.

You took one last deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You'd taken care of dangerous suspects before, this was no different. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You reached a hand down to your hip, making sure the small handgun was still secure in its holster. Just in case. Now, all that was left to do was wait and see if the unsub would take the bait.

You stood at the sink for a few moments, fidgeting with your makeup and waiting for any sound that would indicate the unsub was coming. Your heart beat anxiously in your chest, the anticipation growing with each passing second.

Then, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and the scrape of shoes on the tiled floor. It was him.

You turned around slowly, forcing a casual expression onto your face. He stood a few feet away, a smirk on his lips as he regarded you. He looked more sinister now, without the cover of the restaurant between you.

"Well, look who we have here," he drawled, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He took a step closer, his gaze roaming over your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Just needing a little touch-up time," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and unbothered. You leaned back against the sink, trying not to flinch as he closed the distance between you.

"Yeah? I think you look perfect to me." He was standing way too close now, his body practically pressed against yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and it took everything you had to maintain your composure.

You tried to subtly shift away from him, your heart racing as your back pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink. Your hand casually reached back, fingers inching closer to the gun hidden at your hip.

He seemed to notice your subtle movement and leaned in closer, his gaze flickering down to your hip. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking whisper.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "What do you mean?" you feigned ignorance, hoping he wouldn't notice the way your palm was slowly closing around the grip of the handgun.

He leaned in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "Don't play dumb. I know you're hiding something." he reached out, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your hip, dangerously close to your gun.

You froze as his fingers brushed against your hip, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was now or never. You had to act fast.

In a swift, fluid motion, you grabbed his hand and spun him around, pinning his arm behind his back and pushing him against the wall. The sudden movement surprised him, and he let out a grunt of surprise as his face pressed against the cold tiles.

The element of surprise gave you the upper hand for now, but you knew he was still dangerous. "You've got some skills," he grunted, a hint of anger in his voice as he tried to twist out of your grip.

You pushed him harder against the wall, applying even more pressure to his arm. He grunted again, unable to move. "And you talk too much," you retorted, keeping your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

You could hear his breathing getting faster, his body tense as he tried to break free. "You think you've got me cornered, huh?" he spat. "You're not the first agent to underestimate me."

"I think I've got you right where I want you," you replied, your grip on his arm tightening. You could feel his muscles straining under your grasp, but he was still pinned against the wall.

Suddenly, he let out a dark chuckle, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "And what makes you think I'm alone?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "What do you mean?" You demanded, your voice steady but your mind racing with the implications of his words. Was he implying that there were more people involved? People who were never mentioned in the case?

"Oh, you really think it's just me in on this?" He twisted his head to look at you, a sly smile on his lips. Despite the situation, he seemed to be enjoying this. "You've been too busy watching me, you didn't even spot the two guys outside."

Your fingers closed around the familiar grip of your gun, heart thundering in your chest as the man advanced towards you. You could hear more gunshots and commotion coming from outside, but that didn't matter right now. You had to focus on staying alive.

And take this man down.

You tried to back away, your back hitting the wall behind you as the unsub stepped closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Think you can shoot me, sweetheart?"

Your finger rests on the trigger, ready to shoot if needed. But the unsub is faster than you, managing to grab your gun, and it goes off, sending a bullet into the mirror by the sink, shattering it.

he sudden sound of the gunshot and shattering mirror jarred you, but you fought back against him, your adrenaline kicking into overdrive. You cursed the fact that you were wearing heels, the thin stilettos making it difficult to keep your balance.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he caught your wrist, and the fight turned into a grappling struggle for the gun.

You could feel your heart sink as the gun skidded away from you, the sound of it hitting the tiled floor echoing in your ears like a bad omen. The unsub noticed it too, a victorious glint in his eyes as he took a step back from you.

"Looks like you're out of weapons," he jeered, his voice low and mocking.

You looked around, trying to think quickly. You were outnumbered, unarmed, and trapped in a confined space. The odds were not in your favor, but you refused to give up.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and the unsub as you scanned the small bathroom for anything that could be used as a weapon. There wasn't much – a few toiletries, a paper towel dispenser, nothing that would be much use against a man twice your size.

The unsub's gaze was on you like a hawk, following your every movement. "Where you think you're going, pretty girl?" he taunted, moving forward slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the small space. "You're not gonna get away that easily."

With no chance of running or finding another weapon, you were left with no choice. You clenched your fists, readying yourself for a physical confrontation. You hated hand-to-hand combat, it was never your strong suit, but you had to make do.

"Bring it, buddy," you taunted, trying to sound braver than you felt.

The unsub chuckled at your challenge, stepping closer again. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, his eyes scanning your form up and down. "But you're way in over your head."

He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab you. You managed to dodge the first attempt, twisting your body away from his reach, but he was quick and relentless. He kept coming at you, his movements swift and fluid, like a snake.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he dodged it with ease, his hand catching your wrist and yanking you to the side. You stumbled, the heel of your shoe catching on the edge of a tile. You barely managed to keep your balance, your heart hammering in your chest.

You gasped as he grabbed a handful of your hair and slammed you into the edge of the sink. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, making your vision swim for a moment. You tried to fight him off, but he had an iron grip on your hair, keeping you pinned.

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the sight of your teammates appearing in the doorway sent a wave of relief through you. Hotch, Derek, and even Spencer, all holding their service weapons at the ready.

The unsub's grip on your hair loosened slightly, his eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected arrival. For a moment, it seemed like the tables had turned.

Derek quickly assessed the situation, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him – you, pinned against the sink, the unsub's hand in your hair, the shattered mirror, and the gun lying just out of reach on the floor.

"You wanna let her go, pal?" he barked, his voice hard and unwavering.

Hotch's gaze fell on you, his eyes instantly locking onto the blood dripping down your face. Concern flashed across his features for a brief moment before he schooled his expression back into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Let go of her," he repeated Derek's command, his voice firm and commanding. "Now."

The unsub didn't move, his eyes darting around the room, calculating his options. But his grip on you loosened as he realized he was outnumbered. He released your hair, his hand dropping away from your scalp.

"Hands on your head," Hotch barked, stepping forward. Derek moved in as well, his gun still raised and aimed directly at the unsub.

Spencer lingered by the doorway, eyes wide and worried as he took in your injured state.

The unsub complied, raising his hands slowly and placing them on the back of his head. He looked resigned, his earlier bravado replaced with a resigned acceptance that he was outnumbered and outgunned.

"Turn around slowly," Hotch instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. The unsub obeyed, turning slowly to face the wall, his hands still on his head.

Within seconds, Derek had him restrained, his hands cuffed behind his back. Hotch holstered his gun and moved swiftly towards you, Spencer right behind him.

Hotch stepped closer, his eyes scanning over you. His hand reached up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face to the side to examine your face, and the blood trickling down the side.

"How bad is it?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Spencer, lingering at Hotch's side, leaned in closer, concern etched in his features. "Does it feel swollen? Are you dizzy?" he rattled off, his usual rambling coming in rapid-fire.

"I'm okay," you assured them, though you leaned slightly into Hotch's touch. Your head throbbed, the adrenaline from the fight starting to wear off.

Hotch gently released your chin, his fingers still lingering near your injury for a moment longer. "We need to get that cleaned up," he said, gesturing to your temple.

Spencer had already taken a handkerchief out of his pocket, gently dabbing at the blood The white cotton quickly stained red as he cleaned the blood away.

"You'll probably need stitches," he commented, his fingers gently prodding the edges of the wound.

The sounds of your teammates clearing the scene faded into the background, leaving you alone with Spencer in the now-silent bathroom. The adrenaline was quickly being replaced by the pain from your injuries, but it was his silence that was unnerving you more than anything

Spencer was focused on cleaning the blood from your face, his touch gentle but his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word, just continued his work silently, but you could tell he was tense, his jaw set in a firm line.

Once he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. "You should've waited for backup," he said, his voice cold and clipped.

He kept his gaze focused on the cut, refusing to meet your eyes. "We could've taken care of this without you getting hurt," he added, his tone bordering on accusation.

"I had it under control," you protested, but even as you said the words, you knew they weren't entirely true. You'd acted impulsively, putting yourself in danger just to prove a point.

Spencer's hands stilled, finally meeting your eyes, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and worry. "Under control? You're bleeding. You could've been killed." His voice was a growl, his frustration palpable.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if he was trying to see past your bravado and into your true state of mind.

"You can't just throw yourself into danger like that," he said, his voice softer now but firm. "We have protocols for a reason."

"I know we have rules and protocols, but sometimes situations don't allow us the luxury of following them," you muttered, your stubbornness rearing its head even in your injured state. "I didn't feel like I had a choice."

Spencer's grip on your head tightened for a moment, his jaw clenching as he fought back a more heated retort. He exhaled through his nostrils, his frustration clear.

"There's always a choice," he argued, his voice a low growl. "You just took the most reckless one."

Spencer's eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the gash on your temple for a moment before moving down to your lips. The atmosphere was thick with the kind of tension familiar to both of you, leading to late nights and whispered secrets.

"You don't get to throw yourself into danger like that and expect me not to worry," he nearly hissed.

He was standing close, his body practically leaning over you as he tended to your wound. His hands were still on your face, one gently holding the side of your head while the other held the handkerchief against your skin.

As he spoke, you could feel his breath, warm against your cheek. "Don't do that again," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't make me worry like that."

"I can't promise that I won't get myself into dangerous situations," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his stare. "It's part of the job."

There was a pause, the tension thick between you. His hands were still gently cradling your head, but his touch felt more possessive now, like he was silently claiming you as his.

"Just promise me you'll be more careful," he said, his voice pleading.

His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, the vulnerability in his voice only increasing your desire to comfort him. You reached up and gently laid your hand over his, silently reassuring him that you were okay.

"I will," you whispered. "I promise."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, an idea forming in your mind. You knew that one way to get past Spencer's stubborn facade was through bribery, particularly with his sweet tooth.

"How about this," you began, your voice taking on a slightly teasing tone. "I'll be more careful, and I'll buy you some donuts as an apology for worrying you

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing through them. It was almost comical how quickly you saw him crumble, his resolve melting under the suggestion of donuts.

"You're bribing me with sugar," he stated, sounding almost offended, yet the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards.

"Is it working?" you asked, grinning up at him. You could practically see his weak willpower crumbling away. Donuts were his kryptonite.

Spencer tried to maintain his stoic exterior, but the way his eyes lit up betrayed his true feelings. He was a sucker for donuts, and you knew it.

"I mean, it's not the worst bribe," he admitted, his voice laced with resignation but also with a hint of playfulness.

You let out a soft laugh, his feigned resistance amusing you. He could pretend to be mad all he wanted, but you knew he was already imagining the taste of those sugary treats.

"I'll even get the ones with sprinkles," you promised, knowing that would practically seal the deal.

"Sprinkles?" he repeated, his voice a little too eager to be convincing. "You know me so well."

He tried to play it cool, but his eyes betrayed his excitement. It was almost endearing how easily the idea of donuts broke down his defensive walls.

"Of course I do," you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I know exactly how to get you to forgive me."

You knew that donuts were his weakness, and you were more than willing to exploit it when necessary. After all, it was a small price to pay for Spencer's forgiveness.

He looked down at you, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression. He was fully aware of his sweet tooth and the power it held.

"You're not playing fair," he muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words.

He knew he was defeated, and deep down, he was probably already planning which donuts he wanted.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his response. He was adorable when he was trying to resist, even though you both knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I never said I would play fair," you teased, a cheeky smile on your face. "I play to win, and this time, winning means getting you a dozen donuts."

Spencer flushed, his cheeks coloring slightly under your touch. He hadn't expected the gentle gesture, and his usually stoic demeanor faltered for a moment.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. He looked a little flustered, his usual controlled expression replaced with a hint of vulnerability.

"That's...that's a good start," he murmured, his voice a little shaky.

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure but failing. The simple act of you kissing his cheek had thrown him off balance.

"But it's going to take more than that to truly make it up to me," he said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual teasing tone.

He leaned in a little closer, the air between you growing more charged. His eyes held a hint of mischief, his smile growing wider.

"I mean, I do like donuts, but I think I'm going to need something a little more substantial as a true apology," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

His hand lightly rested on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your skin. He was being playful now, his usual serious demeanor giving way to his more flirtatious side.

His hand moved down to your chin, his touch light but deliberate. He tilted your face up to meet his gaze, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Can you think of anything more substantial that might serve as an adequate apology?" he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestion.

You felt yourself shiver under his touch, your body responding to his proximity and his words. There was a hint of hunger in his eyes, and it sent a thrill through you.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice a little breathless. "But I think I'll need a hint first. I wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite genius."

Spencer's smile widened, his fingers tracing a slow path down your jawline. He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear.

"Hmm," he pretended to think, his hot breath against your skin sending another shiver down your spine. "Perhaps the apology should be a little more... physical."

His hand moved from your chin down to your neck, his fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin there. He was so close to you now, his body almost pressed against yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath growing a bit heavier as he continued to toy with you.

"Something that involves a lot of... touching," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

His hand moved lower, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone, down your arm, and finally settling on your hip. His grip was firm but gentle, his touch possessive.

He stepped even closer, his body flush against yours now. You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his heart beating a little quicker.

"That's the kind of apology I might forgive," he murmured, his mouth hovering just above yours.

He was so close, his eyes locked with yours. His thumb continued to trail patterns on your hip, his touch both maddening and exhilarating.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. He leaned down, his mouth now just a whisper away from yours.

"I'm a very tactile person," he whispered, his voice dripping with implication. "I need to feel my apologies, not just hear them."

Your pulse quickened at his words, his proximity and his touch sending a wave of heat through you.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth close to yours. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure my apology is extra convincing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

You closed the remaining distance between your lips, kissing him hard.

Spencer let out a soft groan at the contact, his hand on your back tightening as he pulled you close. He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that caught you off guard.

He tasted like coffee and some lingering sweetness, a combination that was irresistibly addictive. He nipped at your lips, his hands roaming over your body, touching and caressing with an increasing hunger.

The sound of the bathroom door made you both pull away. You looked past Spencer to see Hotch and Derek.

Derek's smirk widened as he saw the two of you quickly pull away from one another.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Looks like we've interrupted something."

Hotch couldn't help but chuckle, his gaze flickering between you and Spencer. Hotch pulled out his wallet, handing Derek a 50$ bill.

You looked between Hotch and Derek, your confusion deepening at the sight of the fifties changing hands.

"What are you two doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of amusement and bemusement.

"Oh, we just had a little bet going," Derek explained, his smirk widening.

Hotch nodded in agreement, his expression still one of mild amusement. "We bet on when you two would finally stop dancing around each other and just admit your feelings," he explained.

Your confusion slowly turned to embarrassment at their words. They had been betting on your relationship?

You shot a glance over at Spencer, who was looking just as flustered as you were. He was clearly still a little worked up from your earlier encounter, his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair a little disheveled.

"You two bet money on our love life?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and indignation.

Derek chuckled, pocketing the money Hotch had handed over. "Guilty as charged," he said, his grin unapologetic.

Hotch shrugged, his expression still mild but with a hint of amusement. "Consider it a friendly wager," he said.

"Friendly wager or not, you two are unbelievable," you muttered, still a little flustered but trying to play it off with a laugh.

Spencer, on the other hand, was trying to regain his composure. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing his disheveled locks and trying to look unfazed.

"It's not like we were the only ones making bets," Derek pointed out, his gaze flickering over to Spencer. "JJ and Penelope have had a bet going on for months."

Spencer's face flushed even deeper at Derek's words. JJ and Penelope had been betting on your relationship too?

You couldn't help but laugh at Spencer's reaction to Derek's revelation. His expression was a mix of mortification and resignation, as if he had known deep down that the rest of the team was watching the slow burn between you two.

You turned to him, nudging him playfully. "Looks like we're the talk of the office, genius."

Spencer let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit at your comment. "Great," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair again. "Just what I need, the whole team betting on our relationship."

He looked down at you, his expression a mix of resignation and fondness. "But I guess it was only a matter of time before we gave them something to talk about."

You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching up to touch his arm. "Hey, at least they seem to think we're a good match," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Hotch and Derek chuckled again at your comment, their grins still just as knowing.

Spencer let out another sigh, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yeah, and they're enjoying our... progression a little too much," he grumbled, his voice still a little flustered.

Derek let out a bark of laughter at Spencer's tone. "Oh, come on, Reid. Lighten up. We're just happy you two finally got your act together."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "And I have to say, I've never seen you quite so worked up over someone before," he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Spencer's cheeks colored again at Hotch's remark. He shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted at best.

"Can we please stop discussing my love life," he muttered, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Derek and Hotch exchanged another smirk, obviously enjoying their ability to embarrass him.

You guys left the restroom and the bar all together. The unsub as and the two others had been detained and taken to interrogation. The EMTs had just finished tending to your injured head the wound was cleaned and plastered but thankfully did not require stitches. You were sitting on the edge of the ambulance, a blanket draped around you

Spencer hovered over you, his expression one of concern. He had been by your side the whole time, watching as the EMTs cleaned and bandaged your wound.

Now, he was sitting next to you on the edge of the ambulance, his hand resting on your leg. He was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on your face, taking in the sight of the bandaid plastered against your forehead.

"About earlier...in the bathroom..." you began, your voice soft.

Spencer's hand stiffened a little on your leg at your sudden mention of the kiss.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering away from yours for a moment before coming back to meet your eyes. "It...it meant something," he said, his voice hesitant. His eyes searched your face as if looking for some sort of confirmation. "At least, it did to me."

You smiled at his words, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. "Good," you said, your voice soft. "Because it meant a lot to me too."

You reached up, your hand gently tracing the line of his jaw. You could see the emotions flickering across his face, his usual stoic veneer cracked just a bit.

"I still owe you a dozen donuts," you reminded him, your voice light.

Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes flickering with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "But I think I'd rather have another kiss than a dozen donuts."

He looked down, his expression a little contrite. "Not that I don't still want the donuts," he added quickly, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned forward, your hand still tangled in his hair, pulling his face down to meet yours.

The kiss was soft, a gentle press of lips against yours, filled with tenderness and sweetness. It was different from the urgent, passionate kiss you had shared in the bathroom, this one slow and deliberate.

You thought back to how it all started - how you had both agreed to pretend to be a couple to gain information during the case.

And now, here you were, sitting in the back of an ambulance, your lips still tingling from the kiss you had shared with Spencer. You never could have predicted that this charade would lead to something real, but it did.

Somehow, the lines between acting and reality had blurred, turning your pretend relationship into something completely genuine.

I don't know a lot about Criminal Minds and the characters, so I'm sorry if this is completely different than what the characters would say or do. I haven't watched the series, but I know the basic things.

So I apologize to anyone who's watched the series and that it doesn't match their personality!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #bau team #spencer reid fluff #doctor spencer reid

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autistichalsin · 4 months ago

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So I don't usually post all that many Astarion thoughts here, but I have noticed that some people feel that a certain set of lines spawn Astarion and ascended Astarion have in the new evil endings would have been better suited for the other. Namely, after the Dark Urge stabs either of them, Spawn Astarion cries, "I should have killed you when I had the chance!" while Ascended Astarion breaks down into inelegant blubbering, "no! No, this can't be. I can't- you can't- no!"

And I can definitely understand where it might feel like these would be better responses for the other- but I happen to completely disagree.

So, Astarion, first and foremost, is a fear-driven person after what he's been through. Everything- manipulating others, seeking power, lacking empathy- comes from his belief that power is all that matters, the only way to avoid being hurt, and only his quest to become the powerful one at last matters.

Through his friendship or romance (in this case, obviously, romance) with the player, though, he starts to find this being challenged. He sees genuine kindness for the first time. No expectations that he lay down his body to get advantages. No using him. His dignity and boundaries respected for the first time that he can remember. This is set against the backdrop of Cazador and the other spawn. If he kills them and takes Cazador's power, he can become powerful enough to never fear again. But if he doesn't, he can be something more than the game Cazador pulled him into when he made him a spawn.

Your confrontation with Cazador is the moment you either entrench Astarion in this belief, or free him from it. If you let him ascend, he becomes all-powerful- at the cost of believing forever that the world is nothing more than an extended power trip, a system where by necessity there are lower people and higher people and only the strong can be free. And he has finally become the strongest of the strong.

So imagine his surprise when you, who he thought was under his thumb, grab more power than him and kill him just like that. No chance to fight back or use his vampire lord powers. He went through all that, sacrificed the core of who he was- and it still wasn't enough. His one concession to his dog-eat-dog philosophy, his love for you, was the thing that let him die. No wonder, then, that all he can do is babble out something between disbelief, a plea, and a last attempt to assert power over you. He was as powerful as he ever could have hoped to be, and he still lost, cast aside by you as soon as he was no longer useful.

Meanwhile, there's spawn Astarion, weaker in every measure- but free of his belief that power is all that matters. He's fought hard and discarded Cazador entirely- including all the power he offered. He committed himself to becoming better. To experiencing a life where things like happiness and love have just as much of a place as sheer power. And he was enjoying it, too, especially with you at his side.

And then you show him that that was all a lie, that he may very well have made the wrong choice by abandoning all that; for all he knows, you may even have talked him out of the ritual specifically so he would be easier to kill later.

So it's not disbelief and begging. Spawn Astarion actually loved and trusted you and foresook his social-Darwinist beliefs for you; what he feels is raw betrayal. And betrayal gives way to anger rapidly. So instead, he's the one cursing you with his last breath. Lamenting that he let you live at all, let alone falling in love with you.

Ascended Astarion became more powerful but more arrogant, so his reaction is that of someone who can't wrap his head around how this could have happened. Spawn Astarion foresook power for the sake of a real relationship with you, so his reaction is utter fury and betrayal.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #ascended astarion #spawn astarion #dark urge #the dark urge #durgestarion #patch 7 spoilers

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lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

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Bound By Birth

The yandere boy’s reaction to you being their sweet, smaller twin and being obsessed.

Characters: Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Aemond Targaryen.

Theses aren’t complete HC’s just some I thought about, but if you want a part 2 or a fic based on it please let me know.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, Obsession, Possessive, Targaryen ways if you know what I mean, stalking, a bit hinted or nswf a bit but nothing is said that much!

Aemond Targaryen

As soon as Aemond came out of the womb he had lost this sense of warmth and comfort, like he knew you weren’t with him. The new born screamed until you had entered the world a few minutes later and the room felt silent from his crys, only to be full with yours.

From his first breath he knew he belonged with you.

We all know aemond had no dragon that hatched from the egg so he lost that feeling but he had you. The gods had blessed him with something far greater then any dragon he could ever have. Needless to say he thinks of you as his to have since you are his twin.

Little man is possessive from the get go, like he can not bare to be away from you. So you always had him following your trail everywhere you went.

Aemond felt heartbroken when your egg hatched and his had yet too, only to discover the egg was never going to hatch. He was beyond jealous. He and you were supposed to have everything alike, dress the same, eat the same food and share the same toys.

But then that’s when it clicked into his brain you are his dragon. Yes, the gods did this on purpose.

No matter the gender his mind always pictured your wedding day.

Hates it when you train with your dragon and he can’t. Like gets really upset. He does get picked on but you’re there to save him, making him fall harder.

He swears one day he would protect you.

Aegon and the other boys are out of the question for him. You aren’t allowed to hang out with them at all, and if you are? He will pull you away quickly without a word and drag you off away from them.

When he gets his eye taken from him he couldn’t handle your eyes looking at him. Feels ashamed for the curse now on his face because he can’t be handsome or beautiful for you.

But the joy he feels inside when you weep beside him and hold his hand, he feels some sort of pride that you care for him deeply.

Female twin:

Knows you are meant to marry him. He doesn’t even have to convince Alicent very hard to wed you because she needs you to stay safe.

Matching your dresses to his outfit all the time.

He trains to impress you one day, maybe protect you in a fight. If you are ever watching the boys practice he will try his hardest which sometimes leads to him embarrassing himself. But you are there to smile and kiss his cheek with grace.

After that the two of you grow, well he changes into a different man but you stay the same sweet girl.

Aemond has become your protector. Always behind you and glaring at anyone who passes a glance that isn’t welcome. Man is ready to kill with just one word.

Since he is older his mind grows and he can’t stop noticing how beautiful you really are. The body, the hair, or just the sound of your sweet voice. He is addicted and can’t wait to have you as his wife.

Is a beast at fighting now. Gets a boost when you watch from above and see him win every time. Cole is his wingman and will pair him up with someone to put on a good fight just for you.

Male twin

Knows the gods made you smaller and younger then him just so you can be his. From the time he realized what marriage was he was thinking of you.

When you are younger and training he hates embarrassing himself around you, like hated it. Or when you’d pair up with the other boys, even Aegon. Aemond will hate to spar against you and he couldn’t imagine hurting you. But this is more time he can bound with you.

When he loses his eyes- Boy is more angry that he doesn’t look more like you now. You were his twin brother and are supposed to look the same. Aemond does feel the same when he sees you cry for him and tell him he will be okay. But he’s gained a dragon now. One to protect you.

Aemond is just glaring at people while you’re just smiling at everyone. Two separate handsome boys.

He doesn’t care if you’re a boy, you are his twin and he is meant to have you. He hates the thought of you marrying a woman, or anything- Will not share you with anyone.

You both match clothes all the time and he makes sure to tell the servants to dress you both alike or he will be angry.

He is still your protector at all cost and will let nobody harm you in any way. Not his sweet brother.

Just as well, when he grows his mind picks up on your handsome face, your smaller height. He feels better about himself because he could easily overpower you, being the bigger male twin does something to him. He loves it when you get angry at how you can’t grow as much muscle or height as him.

You both train together and he will teach you. Sometimes he will let you win, other times he wouldn’t because he loves you looking a bit sad- You might not be as big or strong but you have speed and can move away from him quickly. He loves to praise you for the smallest things.

Lucerys Velaryon

As I have said in my past fics he is a clingy boy. From birth he loves you because you are his partner in life and he knows it.

Lucerys does cry a lot when he is away from you, but he is also a happy baby as long as he is near you, just like aemond. I think at the young age he just knows you’re his twin.

I picture you however being the first one to walk and he’s just on the floor trying to follow you. Throws a tantrum when you walk away. But, his first steps are when rhaenrya tries to get him to walk and he does…only to walk passed her and over to you.

Growing up he follows you around like a lost puppy. Clings to you where ever you go and if you don’t give him your attention, he will find a way to get it. He does get jealous when jace is around because he’s older, boy just wants you to pay attention to him.

He has planned many pranks with you. Might even do a few on you but feels bad immediately afterwards.

When your father “dies” he realizes his role is to take on driftmark and he fears it. So he gets more possessive after that.

Hates being called Bastard but when someone calls you that? Boy is pulling you away and telling his mother for just the slightest judgement against you. Might even get daemon on it because he is more ruthless.

He tells his mother when he was younger to betroth the two of you and she sees how much you two love each other. However when you both get older he yells at her that he will not marry anyone else but you, no matter what. And he never disobeys her but this was different and she knows he telling the truth.

Even if you are a male he will take no wife. Because that means she would be yours as well. But let’s be honest, rhaenrya is planning to betrothed the both of you to someone.

He kisses your cheek all the time or holds you hands, doesn’t really care who’s watching.

He still pranks you however, like taking your books and holding them above your head.

He is more clingy then the rest of them but not as dangerous- Well, not himself but will get others to do the dirt work.

Male twin:

He knows he’s small but he’s still young, but you? You’re shorter then him and less muscular and it makes him happy. Because that means he can protect you better then you can yourself.

He compares his frame to yours constantly, you’re such a smaller boy and he picks on you a bit. Not mean, but he can be a bit cocky at times.

You already know you both have matching outfits- Every day. Even pjs.

You both used to spar with each other all the time because it was so much fun, and he didn’t like you going against anyone in the fear of you being hurt.

Older sparring is fun because he isn’t that good at it and you’re almost just as bad. From any age he is so embarrassed to mess up in front of you. But maybe if he beats you then you can praise him for it.

Also, he can be alone with you and no one bats an eye because you’re both boys. So he can be as affectionate as he wants.

But nothing really changes for being a boy or a girl in his eyes, he’s just the same with both.

Female reader.

Younger him thinks it’s like a book about a princess and prince, just like the ones your mother read to the two of you.

Because you’re a female he gets more jealous of the males in his family, not saying he doesn’t for male you but this is different. You can easily be betrothed to any of them, he hates it.

Begs your mother to have you as his wife from a young age as well. It’s your birth right to be his bride. And again this means he has no use of another wife because you can have children. There is no one else he wants.

Matching dresses to his outfits and if you want to wear something else? Pouts. He can’t bare to not be in the same color as you.

Sparring is different because he is so terrified of hurting you. He will not even use force on his swings, but a few low hits. You can cry and get angry he isn’t trying but he wouldn’t care.

Kisses you in private all the time, “You’ll be my wife one day.”

Glares at any male that talks to you, even his brother. Tugs at your hand and just joins at your hip.

You can’t be alone together…Unless he sneaks in your room. Will just hold you until you both fall asleep.

Loves to braid your hair. Like he learns just for you.

Jacaerys Velaryon

He is the first born, so he knows he’s missing you. He, just like the others, is waiting for your presence.

Somehow even baby him wiggles closer to you in the cradle. They had to put you two in the same cradle because he wouldn’t stop fussing about being away from you.

He is more calm at this time, like if you get picked up? He’s going to watch but he’s just chilling unless you are out of his sight.

Loves to show you his toys, even though you have seen them so many times. Loves to share them with you too.

Have you seen those videos of babies hugging each other? Literally him with you.

He isn’t as different from the other two at this point.

Jace learns he is to become king and always calles you the future queen/king. And I mean actually correcting his mother or anyone else.

“The gods put us together, it stays that way.”

Loves when you hold his arm or chase him around playing tag.

Hates Aegon or aemond. He’s okay with lucerys, just don’t give him more attention.

Knows he is a bastard and that makes you one too and he fears for you the most.

Older him is just as bad if not more.

Tails behind you and always have his hand around your waist. Always doing everything together.

Even baths, not in the same room but at the same time- And he’s tried to be in the same tub. But going to clothes, studying and to the same sheets as you.

Gets angry if it’s even mentioned that you would marry someone else. Yells about how you will role beside him and no one can change that.

He’s kinda angry a lot when it comes to you. Wouldn’t really let anyone get too close, like not even your personal time. You want to read a book? Okay, he will be in the corner doing his own thing.

But he’s sweet to you always unless you say you can’t marry him, then it’s just him pushing you to think you have no choice.

Male twin

You think you can get away from this man? Um no, he is always near you.

From a young age he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Can’t play without him, can’t study without him, or train. Anything you do is what he is doing.

Training with younger him isn’t that bad- Well, okay it’s a bit. He really loves to win against you and does the most. He wouldn’t hurt you but if you fall it isn’t his fault, you should be praising him for being so strong.

Dressing the same each time and will literally throw a tantrum if not. Saying the future king demands it.

After a few years, I think he might be the most possessive about you. The only time you can leave him or go somewhere in the castle is with his mother.

Man is always with you every step, linking your arms.

You already know he is picking on you for being so much smaller then him. I see him as such a cocky man for some reason. Saying things like

“You can’t get that, let me.” “I’m surprised you can even pick up a sword.” “How can a man be that small?��

Training with him older is him teaching you- Mostly useless stuff so he can still win. Just like when he was a kid, loves to win against you.

Matching outfits with you.

Boy knows you are to be king with him and will not stop at anything to get that point across.

Female twin

Boy is holding your hand as you lead him anywhere or him you. He with not leave you for anything.

Matching your dresses to his colors or you wearing his favorite colors- Or him just picking them out for you. If jace doesn’t like your dress he will make you change it.

Is ready before you get done in the morning and comes in as soon as you get your dress on, much to his dismay because he could help you change.

Wouldn’t let the maids touch your skin or go anywhere. The only place that can help you with is your hair and clothes. Loves to let his hands linger on your neck while he places a necklace on you. Or helping you pick everything out.

Escorts you everywhere you need to go. He isn’t afraid to have a tight grip on your waist if you try and get away from him. Can and will gaslight you anytime he wants.

Just like the others he already told his mom he will marry you. You think he will care if she says no? Ha, he wouldn’t care.

While he is studying you are in the corner or with your mother.

He doesn’t really like your time with the other children but is kinda okay with it. Only if you pay attention to him more.

Sneaks into your room at night and will kiss you for as long as he can. Holds you close and brushes your hair until you fall asleep. Doesn’t even care if he leaves marks on you so the others can see.

He does kill in secret if need be or gets them killed by guards, maybe even by daemon or rhaenrya.

Daemon has taught him a few things on how to wow a woman and how to keep you in line, even things to do to you in bed.

#lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #yandere #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #yandere Lucerys Velaryon #yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #yandere Jacaerys Velaryon #yandere Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #yandere Aemond Targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader

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upon-a-starry-night · 6 months ago

Note

There's this idea in my head that's causing real brain rot. So that one time, when Connor and Hank are on the rooftop, and he almost kills Hank? Can I request something like that, but with an f! reader? Maybe f! reader is on the deviant's side, and Amanda has already taken over, as a result, fight ensues. Major hurt/comfort. You choose how this ends. Thank you in advance 😭

Connor Rk800 x Gender Neutral Reader!

DBH Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, minor violence

A/n: I always thought Connor should’ve had another chance to become deviant at this rooftop scene so this is the perfect opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy!

The night air is cold as you step out onto the roof, a distant alarm blaring as it fights to be heard against the harsh wind.

You flinch and pull your coat tighter, watching your breath fog out in front of you, snow scattering in every direction. It’s a night you’d rather be spending in the warmth of your home, curled up with a good book and good company. Unfortunately, your good company chose to go bad cop on you and now you’re out here trying to get him back.

You can already feel your fingers growing numb and you regret not bringing gloves up here with you. As if life being a detective wasn’t hard enough.

You squint at the light illuminating from the giant Android billboard and instead focus your gaze on the figure near the edge of the roof. It’s the last place you want to see him right now. On this roof- on the wrong side of history. Making a mistake you know he’ll regret.

It’s all you can do to hope you’ll be able to convince him to come back.

You don’t know what happened. One day he’s kind and funny and even a little flirty and the next he’s cold and calculating. Had he just been pretending the whole time? Did he tell you all those sweet things just to eliminate you as a threat to his mission?

Whatever the reason, even if he was faking it with you you weren’t faking it with him. Over the past few months, you’ve formed a genuine connection with Connor. A connection you thought was more than just partners working on the same case.

You think back to all those late nights Connor stayed up with you as you wrote your reports, cracking jokes so the police precinct felt a little less cold and dim. The time he helped you move your furniture after your previous apartment almost got broken into. The little moments where he’d walk you to your car no matter the time, or go out of his way to pick you up a coffee.

That couldn’t have been fake, right? Nobody went through that much effort just to make sure you were friends. It was because of the way he treated you and cared for you that you found yourself in love with him in the first place.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook that thought from your head. You’d only just realized it last night. You’d planned to tell him today but something about him was different, he didn’t look at you the same way, though his body still lingered near yours. Then you’d gotten the call this evening about where he was headed and you knew you had to stop him.

The Connor you knew wouldn’t do this. But maybe the Connor you knew wasn’t real…

“You don’t want to do this Connor” He doesn’t even flinch at your voice. He probably heard you from the second you got there and was just waiting for you to say something.

Perhaps that was a sign? Your Connor was always polite with you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Detective.” His voice bites at you with more coldness than the night air and it makes your heart sting. It’s a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with suspects or Gavin. Even when you first met and he seemed devoid of emotion his voice was warm, friendly. What happened?

Was it something you had done? Something you said that gave away your feelings about him? He was built to read body language and pick up on subtle clues after all. Had he known even before you? Was he disgusted by you? That a human like you could fall so easily for an Android?

He shifts the position of his gun, getting a better shot on Marcus and you take another step forward, if you could just reach him then maybe-

“You won’t stop me from accomplishing my mission.” Him and his stupid mission. It’s all he ever used to talk about before he started being open with you. You thought you’d become more important than his mission. Guess not.

“What mission Connor? What? You think you shoot this guy and it’s all over? The whole rebellion falls down? Is that it?” You scoff, shoving your hands into your coat pockets to try and garner some warmth. “You shoot Marcus, someone else will just take his place. Do you really want to spend your life hunting down Androids until you’re the only one left with a soul?”

He doesn't speak but you see the way he squeezes the gun tighter, your words clearly having an internal impact.

“Come home Connor,” You say it out of instinct, your home had become a shared space with Connor, a place he knew you’d always welcome him into. “We can find a good movie and-”

“And what? Huh? Sit there and pretend like we could be anything other than a human and a machine?” His words cut deep, slicing your heart open and revealing all the ugly fears that had been festering in your brain. The urge to throw up fills your stomach but you push the feeling down.

What Connor thought you could or couldn’t be didn’t matter right now. Even if it hurt, you had to make sure you stopped him no matter what.

He places his finger on the trigger and you know you have to resort to the last thing you wanted to do. The last thing you thought you’d ever do to Connor. You pull out your gun and aim it at his back. Emotions well up in your throat as tears threaten to break free

“Get away from the ledge” You wish he couldn’t hear how your voice trembles but you know he does. You don’t know if you have the gall to shoot him and he knows that. Still, he stands up and turns around to face you anyway.

It’s the worst sight in the world- the image of him in front of the barrel of your gun. His eyes are cold and unrecognizable, and you take note of the fact that he doesn’t drop his gun. A strong breeze roars through and you shiver, watching the wind ruffle his hair.

The same hair he used to let you brush your fingers through as you spent hours talking on your couch. His head in your lap, his eyes closed, his LED spinning blue, and a content smile on his face. You remember wanting to take a picture of how cute he looked then, just like a happy puppy.

Oh, how things change.

Your hand shakes as you hold the gun, maybe from the cold, maybe from the anguish, probably from both.

“Go home detective. It’s not my mission to kill you but this is none of your business” You nearly flinch at the word ‘kill’ but manage to hold your resolve. You couldn’t show weakness in front of this version of Connor.

You scoff, “None of my business? You call you killing an innocent man none of my business?”

“It’s not a man. It’s a machine-”

“He has a family! He has people who care about him and depend on him! He has a partner and friends! Like you and I were-”

“We weren’t anything but coworkers Detective. If you thought we were more, you were mistaken.” He cuts you off with the words you feared to hear more than anything. Words he promised you he’d never say when he told you “I’ll always be here for you detective” with that stupid sunny smile of his.

Wiping a tear with your shoulder, you shake your head as you try to get a read on him.

”you don’t mean that”

“I think I do” He tilts his head, in a way you always found cute but now just find menacing.

“I can’t let you kill that man Connor” You tighten your hold on your gun and he narrows his eyes, sizing up whether or not he thinks you’ll shoot before going to put his gun down.

Your body relaxes slightly only to be met with the full force of his gun being thrown at you. You try to block it but it crashes into your arm, causing you to hiss out in pain. In the next second Connor is coming at you, disarming your gun and throwing it across the roof.

You try to throw a punch but he swiftly blocks it, grabbing hold of your shoulder and throwing you to the ground. The impact is harsh and the cold only makes it worse. You can already feel the nasty bruise it’s going to leave but you don’t allow yourself time to dwell on it.

Grabbing a metal grate from nearby you launch it at Connor and use it as a moment of distraction, rushing towards your gun near the ledge of the roof with Connor hot on your heels.

Connor sweeps your legs from under you as you’re inches from the gun, sending you crashing to the ground in a fall that stings your palms. At least it helped that your hands were practically numb from the cold.

Army crawling as hurriedly as you can, you manage to swipe your gun as it teeters precariously off the edge of the roof. In a motion that sends pain through your injured shoulder, you manage to flip onto your back and point your gun at Connor just as he stands directly over you.

For a brief second, you can’t help but think that Connor was taking it easy on you, but then he smirks like an asshole and your flame of hope dies out

“You really gonna shoot me, detective?” The cocky disbelief in his eyes is the most emotion you’ve seen from him all day and in a moment of weakness, you hesitate because you’ve seen that look when Gavin throws his fits about Androids or when the other detectives think they can do his job better than him. Cocky was an emotion Connor didn’t often show but it always made you laugh.

He takes advantage of your moment of hesitation, twisting your gun from your hands and throwing it off the roof. It lands with a solid ‘clack’ in the snow below. You try to sweep his feet but he blocks your legs with his arm, grabbing them and pushing them to the ground. He reaches down and grabs you by the collar of your sweater, angling you so that you're dangling over a fall that would definitely kill and for the first time, you truly feel scared of Connor.

You struggle in his grip to no avail, eventually giving up as you stare into his eyes for what might be the last time. You feel tired and angry and heartbroken and you don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. You let the wind rage around you as you hold out your arms, daring him to drop you.

“Moment of truth Connor…what are you gonna do?” You struggle to catch your breath as his LED violently flashes red. “You gonna kill me for trying to be a good friend?” You wait for anything to happen, for him to throw you off the roof or respond but all he does is stand there staring blankly. His LED goes crazy, flashing from red to blue to yellow and back again, like he’s having some sort of internal struggle.

His grip on you seems to loosen a bit and you inhale sharply “C-Connor” You cry out desperately and he gasps, his grip tightening as he pulls you into his body and clings tightly to you. He takes a few steps back from the roof, forcing your body to move with his as he brings you both back to safety.

His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you’re unsure what to feel until you hear his pained voice

“I’m sorry.” It’s more raw than you’ve ever heard it before and soon enough tears are streaming down your face as your arms reciprocate his hold. His hands clench tighter to your jacket at the sound of your sobs. “I’m so sorry i-” His voice breaks off and his chest starts shaking and you look up to see tears streaming down his face.

You’d never seen him cry before, you didn’t even know he was capable of it- and from the looks of it neither did he.

“A-amanda- she took control and I couldn’t-” His eyes refuse to focus on you, staring at the swirling snow behind you, so you release one arm to cup his face and bring his gaze down to yours. “I tried to kill you” He looks absolutely heartbroken at what he’s done and he quickly begins to scan you for injuries. His hands coming up to cup your jaw and tilt your face this way and that.

You manage a smile through your tears as you realize you have your Connor back. Relishing the gentle way he holds your face and the concern that never leaves his eyes as he looks over you.

“No harm no foul” You attempt a joke and Connor’s lips quirk up for the briefest moment before his gaze zeros in on your shoulder and he frowns

“I hurt you” You pursed your lips, unable to deny that fact but not wanting to ruin the moment. Reaching up, you wipe the tears from his cheeks with a gentle hand, watching as he leans into your touch.

“It’ll heal.” You tell him instead, just happy to be bruised and safe rather than dead. “What happened back there?” He looks like he wants to say more about your injury but after reading the look in your eyes he drops it.

“ I broke free. I was stuck in this frozen garden for so long. I couldn’t control my own body or words but then I heard your voice and I had to save you” You lay your head on his chest once more, feeling the steady flow of Thirium pumping through his body, the cold long forgotten from your mind.

He rests his chin upon your head, pulling you into a hug once again.

“You’re more important to me than any mission.” His voice trembles and it takes everything in you not to start crying again “I didn’t mean any of it- those awful things I said, I didn’t mean any of them… I Love you, Detective”

Your gaze snaps to Connors, a wide smile and a light blue blush dusting his cheeks. Those three words- three words ten minutes ago you were sure you’d never heard from him. You had to make sure you hadn’t misheard him

“What?” your heart pounded in your chest

“I said I love you, detective” This was really happening. Connor loved you back. You couldn’t help the tears that fell at the genuine emotion in his voice.

“I love you too, Connor” A delighted laugh escapes you as you pull him in for a kiss, soft cold lips meeting yours. Sure this wasn’t your ideal confession but with Connor, nothing ever went as planned, and that was perfectly fine with you “Now let’s go home, it’s freezing up here”

A/n: peep me watching the roof scene over and over to get this right (and also just to admire Connor) ~ Starry

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henrycangelbaby · 3 months ago

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In which: Y/N pulled back slightly, wiping her tears gently away. “But you didn't; that's what matters," Y/N responded. “You fought so hard, baby, and I am so proud of you."

Abby is reunited with her family.

A gunshot rang through the air. Ellie let up, pulling back in surprise. Abby gasped for air, grounding herself as she was suddenly released from under the water.

"Put your hands in the air," the voice was trying to be firm; it wavered at the end.

"Ellie," the voice continued.

Ellie turned around at the sound of her name; she recognized the source of the voice instantly. When Tommy had told her where Abby was and how to find her, he had referenced this girl. Y/N had been described as a best friend and right-hand woman of Abby's. Ellie had known better than to assume that this girl, who Abby just happened to share a life (and bed) with, was simply only a friend.

But their shared dating preferences hadn't brought her any sympathy; perhaps it had secretly angered Ellie with a slap-in-the-face reminder that Ellie was more like Abby than she wanted to be.

"Ellie, you need to listen to me," her voice became clearer as it moved towards them. The now visible girl's rifle was clutched close to her. She looked over at Ellie, pointing the gun at her head.

"If you move, I will kill you."

Ellie nodded along.

"Put your hands in the air and leave them there, I swear to God."

Her gun was still pointed at Ellie as she moved to raise her hands above her head, keeping them there as the girl walked past her. She placed the gun strap over her body, her face falling when she saw Abby.

"Christ."

Y/N dropped down, pulling the injured girl close.

"My love, oh my honey."

Ellie's chest tightened with a feeling she was unsure of as she watched Abby grab onto Y/N’s t-shirt, pulling her down to her knees, wanting to have her girl impossibly close. Y/N pulled her head close into her chest, rocking Abby for a moment. A tear escaped her eye as she ran her hands through the rough hair that had been brutally slashed off.

Abby spoke weakly.

"Lev, he u—"

She was gently shushed.

"I know, my love, we're going to get you two out of here safe, okay? He's coming home with us," Y/N told Abby gently.

The water around Ellie sloshed gently as she moved to stand. Y/N was quick on her, flipping around and pointing the gun right back at Ellie.

Y/N stood up, her once loose shirt now wet and clinging to what seemed to be the unmistakable curve of a pregnancy bump.

This had to be a joke—a cruel sick joke that was being played on Ellie. She felt ill—something more than regret settling in the pit of her stomach. She had come all this way for revenge. She had been so sure that she was going to kill Abby, that it would sedate the longing and grief inside her.

It hadn't.

She felt diseased with the thought of what she had left to come here—her family. She was more than angered by the cruel truth—a painful reminder of her wrongdoings. Abby had a family—a growing one at that—a family that Ellie had been ready to tear apart when she had walked down to this beach.

Ellie had left her family behind. She knew deep down she probably wouldn’t be returning to it either. She had left all of it behind only to become a killer. Abby had a family—a family that was here with her now, ready to take her home. Abby had a pregnant girlfriend that had fought to come save her.

Ellie had no one.

"Don't move," Y/N ordered, standing in front of Abby. "Ellie, you need to leave, okay? You can walk out of here unharmed by me. End this."

Ellie went to yell, adrenaline coursing through her veins, angered by her realization, her jealousy.

"OR!" Y/N was quick to yell over her. "If you don't leave my family alone, if you try and win this fight, I will kill you right now."

She moved closer to Ellie, who, despite her protests, still had her hands in the air. Y/N stepped close, placing the rifle against Ellie's chest. She spoke lowly.

"You've already killed enough people and ruined enough families; you don't have to ruin this one too."

"Go home, Ellie."

She used the rifle to nudge her back towards the shore. Ellie wasn't sure why she was compelled to listen. Perhaps, deep down, she knew that this girl was right. The circle of violence she had created would follow her around forever if she didn't cut it off at some point.

Ellie couldn't tear her eyes away from Abby, from Y/N. She sits in the shallow water, allowing the saltwater to burn her open wounds. The sting aids her anger; it distracts her from the pain inside her, the ache in her chest that won't let up.

Abby lifts Lev gently into the boat; despite her weakness and her injuries, he feels light; everything was going to be okay. Everyone she cared about was accounted for. Lev was laid down in the boat, her lover placing a jumper under his head. Abby watches as Y/N leans close to a barely conscious Lev, pushing his hair back gently. He reaches up towards the older girl in a weak attempt to put his arms up, wanting to be closer to her. She smiles at him in a way that makes Abby's heart ache; she can hear Y/N promise him something, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently afterward. Lev appears to settle after that, allowing himself to relax, finally safe, back with those who love him.

The attention falls to Abby next; she knew that it would have fallen to her first had Lev not been there. Y/N had taken quickly to looking after Lev; she had a maternal instinct that Abby had taken longer to learn, taking care of Lev in a way that confused him. He had confessed to Abby that he was unsure what to do with the doting; it had made Abby laugh. It was a sentiment that she understood; she had been unsure what to do with Y/N's caring nature back when they had only been friends. It had only gotten worse when they had begun dating. Abby had yet to go hungry or have a neck ache from sleeping funny since they had begun dating what seemed like forever ago.

Abby feels Y/N pull her close; she was weakened by the torture, holding her with as much strength as she could. Abby was used to holding her girl close, crushing her into a hug. It had become a joke between them. Abby's strength was a source of fun between them. Abby throwing Y/N over her shoulder or lifting her off the ground during an innocent hug (it was also a source of something else when they were alone). She had let up when Y/N had fallen pregnant.

Abby had always been protective, but it had gotten far worse when they had come to the realization of her girlfriends pregnancy. It hadn't exactly been a positive realization, but after the initial shock and horror, Abby had become more than eager for her expanding family. Their search for the fireflies had been less than successful, and it had put Y/N in far more danger than Abby had been willing to accept.

Abby had been so scared and worried for her family that she had considered stopping. Searching for an abandoned gated community or farm, taking her family there and ensuring that they could always be safe, protected within the walls of somewhere she could control.

“I thought,” Abby spoke quietly.

Y/N shook her head, imploring her not to speak, but Abby continued, “I thought I was going to die.” She began to cry, wetting Y/N's shoulder. “I was going to leave you all alone.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, wiping her tears gently away. “But you didn't; that's what matters," Y/N responded. “You fought so hard, baby, and I am so proud of you."

Abby could barely nod in response, her body shutting down from relief.

“We don't have to think about that anymore, okay? We can move on,” Y/N stated firmly as she led Abby towards the boat. “We can leave in one second, okay?” Y/N spoke after Abby was situated, walking back towards the shore.

Ellie flinched as she felt a hand land on her shoulder. Her body was immediately put into fight or flight, but for some reason, she remained still; she knew who it was.

Y/N crouched down beside her, a little awkwardly due to her protruding belly, but Ellie didn't want to think about that right now, the thought made her feel sick.

She spoke lowly to Ellie almost as if she were a child, a child who had just learned a hard lesson.

“Go home, Ellie,” Y/N spoke, “go home and live to see another day."

Ellie couldn't respond; Y/N had sounded so sincere it made her head hurt and her eyes wet. She nodded in response, rendered silent by everything.

It seemed to be enough for Y/N, who walked away, back towards her boat. Toward her loving family.

#guys i NEED to have her baby so bad #its my life goal to be Abby Andersons baby mama!!!#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #mae writes 💞#abby and lev #by babies!#logan x you #mae cant shut the freak up 💓#wlw fanfic #the last of us #tlou part 2 #x reader #wlw #ellie williams x reader

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parkerslatte · 3 months ago

Text

Clouded | Part Two

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: blood and injury. violence. near death experience. death and gore. scars.

Summary: After collapsing in her garden and revealing something he never thought he would, Eris is left fighting for his life once more, unable to heal his wounds. Y/N asks for help in the most unlikely of places.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One || Part Two

•••

Y/N stared at the wall in front of her, unable to stop her racing heart. It had taken her a while to drag Eris from her front garden back into her house, laying him atop of her bed comfortably. She hadn’t left his bedside since. That had been seven hours ago.

The revelation that Eris was her mate had shocked her to the core. Y/N never thought she had a mate— never thought she was deserving of that kind of love. But it made sense in her mind now. Why she had been so drawn to Eris. Why the thought of him crossed her mind so often despite how he treated her. Even when she loved him once upon a time, she always craved his touch and to be in his presence.

As he lay on the bed in front of her, Y/N slowly moved her hand to clasp his. Just the feeling of his hand in hers sent her senses into overdrive. She craved more.

There was a pressure deep within her that she tried to pull on, force it to snap. No matter how hard she tried, Y/N couldn’t force it. Perhaps if she could then she could help him, save him.

The rise and fall of his chest seemed to become shallower the more Y/N looked at him. She wasn’t sure what else she could do.

Tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes. She didn’t love Eris anymore, that love had long been buried beneath centuries of displeasure, hatred and annoyance. But since discovering the scars on his back from the torture he endured at the hand of his own father, Y/N felt her walls crumble the smallest amount.

For over five hundred years, Y/N was led to believe that Eris despised the ground she walked on. Believed that the love they once shared was fake and one sided. But everything Eris did, everything that he ever said was for a reason. To protect her.

Y/N brought Eris’s hand up to her mouth and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Y/N whispered against his skin. “You stupid male.” She let out a long shaky breath. “And now…you are basically lying on your deathbed. Please wake up.”

Y/N watched as his chest moved in shallow breaths. She had cleaned all of the blood away. If it weren’t for the wounds on his sides it would look as if he were sleeping peacefully. Y/N could only wish he was.

***

Another three hours had passed and Y/N still hadn’t left Eris’s side. Her hand was still clasped in his. Her hand was now hot and sweaty but she didn’t care. Feeling his skin, feeling the slight warmth still within it eased her.

“Eris, please wake up,” Y/N begged. “I have so much to say to you.”

Eris didn’t respond. There wasn’t even a flutter of his eyelid. Y/N sighed.

“If I leave you to get a drink, you won’t die on me will you? Because I will bring you back and kill you myself if you do,” Y/N said with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know how to help you myself. I wish I knew how.”

With a quick glance toward her small desk situated in the corner of the room, an idea formed in Y/N’s mind. It was a long shot but she would do anything to help Eris right now.

She spared one glance at Eris and shuffled to the desk and picked up a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write.

***

Two days had passed since Y/N sent her letter and she heard no word in response. There was a crushing disappointment on her shoulders. Eris had shown no signs of waking any time soon. And what made everything worse was the gash in his side was not healing the way it should. Veins spread out and Y/N just knew that it was an infection.

She had used nearly all of her money on salves and potions to try and heal it but all of her attempts were futile. Nothing worked.

As Y/N moved to the living room, she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped in the direction. There was nothing there. Y/N sighed and closed her eyes. She had been alone for too long to the point where she was seeing things.

Y/N picked up her discarded glass and brought it into her kitchen area. She placed it on the counter and leant against it and let her head fall. The weight falling upon her shoulders made her want to collapse and never stand back up.

“Y/N L/N,” a deep voice sounded through her house.

Startled, Y/N lifted her head and fumbled around for a knife and held it in front of her. Standing before her was a winged male, shadows swarmed around his shoulders, blocking out all the light from her small window.

“Who are you?” Y/N asked, the knife in her hand shaking.

“You sent a letter,” the male said, his voice smooth.

The hand holding the arm faltered. “You’re from the Night Court.”

There was a ghost of a smile on the male’s face. “Isn’t it obvious.”

Y/N let out a breath and placed the knife back on the countertop. “You could have knocked on my door like a normal person.”

“I could have done that but I needed to make sure that everything you said in your letter was genuine,” the male said. “My name is Azriel.”

“Y/N,” she said, lifting her hand for a handshake.

Azriel seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before clasping his hand in hers. Y/N shook it firmly. “So you read my letter? About Eris?”

“I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t,” Azriel said. “Although it wasn’t the letter we expected from Autumn.”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We have been expecting a letter from Eris for weeks now,” Azriel said. “Now we understand why.”

Y/N didn’t pry further. “Do you wish to see him?”

Azriel only nodded and followed Y/N into her bedroom. Her heart clenched once more at Eris laying in her bed, skin even more pale than it had been the day previous.

“He hasn’t shown any sign of waking up,” Y/N explained. “I have tried to do everything to help him but no salve or potion does anything.”

Azriel looked at the wound on Eris’s side.

“I heard about your High Lady and her pregnancy and how she birthed a child with wings. So I thought your court might be able to help with Eris,” Y/N said.

Azriel nodded. “How do you know Eris?”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “We were childhood friends.”

“Were?” Azriel questioned

“We grew apart,” Y/N said. “We haven’t really spoken…nicely to one another in over five hundred years.”

“No romantic feelings involved?” Azriel asked.

Y/N hesitated. “No. Why?”

Azriel shrugged. “Sometimes a mate can help with healing even the gravest of injuries.”

Y/N didn’t respond, only shuffled her feet slightly.

“You don’t need to lie,” Azriel said, and his gaze seemed to soften. “I can scent the mating bond. It’s as clear as anything.”

“You can?” Y/N asked, fear rising within her.

Azriel nodded. “I believe it is only because you are in close proximity to him. It hasn’t snapped for you yet.”

Y/N shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “No. I keep trying to force it. I thought I could possibly help but no matter how hard I try.”

“Don’t force it,” Azriel said. “Just let it happen naturally.”

“I know,” Y/N said and slumped down in the chair by the bed. “It’s just strange. I never thought I had a mate. And now it is with someone I hate and thought hated me. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“People say I’m a good listener,” Azriel said. “And hate isn’t the word I would suggest to go with your actions. I will send word to Rhys to gather others who can possibly help.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, relieved.

Azriel nodded. “I will return with others shortly.”

Y/N nodded and soon enough Azriel was gone, not leaving a single trace.

Once she was alone, Y/N moved from the chair to the edge of the bed and took Eris’s hand in hers. “I thought I hated you. Maybe part of me still does. For the things you said to me and about me to your father. For abandoning me when everything was hard. But after seeing your scars and how desperate you were to get away from me, I think I understand why. Your father almost killed you.” Y/N’s eyes burned. “And he might have succeeded if there was nothing to help you.”

Y/N gently brushed the few strands of Eris’s hair that were plastered across his forehead. “Please wake up.”

***

When Y/N awoke, she was confused. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep. As she woke her head rested upon her bed, her hand still linked in Eris’s. He hadn’t moved at all.

There was a knock on her front door and she immediately sat up. She straightened out her clothes and tried to make her hair a little bit more presentable before going to open her front door.

It revealed the High Lord of the Night Court standing beside Azriel.

“Y/N L/N,” the High Lord of Night, Rhys, said.

Y/N bowed her head. “High Lord.”

Rhys waved his hand dismissively. “Please just call me Rhys. Now, show me where Eris is. I have brought my best healer.”

A weight was lifted from Y/N’s shoulders. “He’s just through here.” Y/N walked quickly to her bedroom. “I assume Azriel told you about how he collapsed and hasn’t woken up.”

“And the fact that you are mates,” Rhys said. “You can’t feel the bond can you?”

“No,” Y/N said. “It hasn’t snapped for me.”

Rhys nodded. “Good. Because this isn’t going to be a feeling you want to have accidentally passed down that bond.”

“What?” Y/N said, moving her body to stand in front of Eris, suddenly feeling protective. “What are you going to do to him?”

“What is needed,” the healer Rhys brought along said.

Azriel stepped forward. “Madja is the best healer the Night Court has. She’s Eris’s best chance at the moment.”

Y/N looked back at Eris. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, he would look like he was dead. She slowly nodded. “Okay, do what you must.”

Madja looked at Y/N expectantly.

Y/N looked around the room to find all eyes on her. “What?”

“You’re his mate,” Madja said. “To heal him, I will need some of your blood.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she turned to Azriel. “I told you that a mate can heal some of the gravest injuries.”

“But you never said it consisted of my blood,” Y/N said.

Azriel only shrugged.

Y/N turned back to face Madja. “How much would you need?”

“Not too much,” she answered, setting up next to Eris.

Y/N sat down in the chair next to her and Madje took Y/N’s hand and cut her palm. SHe guided it over to Eris’s mouth.

“Wouldn’t this be easier to drip into a goblet?” Y/N questioned.

Madja shook her head. “The blood needs to be directly from the source of the mate. It would be useless if you were to use a goblet.”

Y/N only nodded as her blood dripped into Eris’s mouth. A drop fell onto his cheek from where it had run down Y/N’s arm. It was scaly vibrant against Eris’s pale skin.

“That should be enough,” Madja said.

Y/N stilled and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing changed. Eris was still barely alive.

As Madja wrapped a bandage around her hand, Y/N’s eyes remained on Eris, tears sprang to her eyes. “Why didn’t it work?”

“Whatever Beron did to him must have been severe,” Rhys said.

“But you said that a mate can heal the gravest of injuries,” Y/N said.

“They can in certain circumstances,” Madja said. “Although this time it seems as if he needs something more.”

“What does he need?” Y/N asked desperately. Although some colour had returned to Eris’s cheeks, he still looked half dead.

“The power of a High Lord,” Madja answered.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Azriel turning to Rhys. Y/N looked at them. “What? What is it?”

Her question wasn’t answered as Azriel spoke up. “Is it time, Rhys?”

Rhys rubbed his brow and sighed. “It is time.”

“Time for what?” Y/N asked. “What is happening?”

“Many years ago we made a deal with Eris. In exchange for his help, he made sure that when the time comes, we would help with killing his father,” Rhys explained. “I hadn’t realised that this would come this soon.”

“Killing his father?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Rhys said. “Eris has always wanted power and he will go to any means to get it.”

Y/N frowned. “Power isn’t the only reason for his deal.”

“Why else would he want his father dead?” Rhys asked.

Y/N gestured to the wounds on his body. “His father tortures him. He is only like this because of him. His back is covered in scars, each one inflicted by his father. God knows how long this has been going on for.”

Looking back at Eris on the bed, Y/N gently clasped his hand in hers once more. “None of you know Eris like I did. I’ve known him since we were children and we were inseparable. I guess it didn’t take us much to fall in love because that was what our relationship was like. Even before we confessed, we acted as if we were in love. The only thing I hated was how late we confessed. We were twenty and it was just after his birthday and we were so happy. I thought I would marry him, but the moment his brother was born, he changed.”

“He became distant and rarely spoke to me. It wasn’t long before he wanted to be nowhere near me. He was cruel and mean, not just to me, but to most people. It wasn’t long before he avoided me altogether,” Y/N finished.

“And you still love him after that,” Rhys questioned.

“I never said I still love him,” Y/N said. “At least I don’t think I still do. I think part of me will always hate him for the things he said to me. But…before he passed out he said that everything he did was to protect me from his father. And while he was passed out, I was thinking about what happened between Lucien and Jessiminda. I remember needing to clean the floor of her blood.”

“And you believed him?” Rhys asked.

Y/N squeezed Eris’s hand. “There is still a lot I need to talk to him about.”

Eris’s hand was cold and it was so uncommon for him. She remembered whenever Y/N was cold when they were younger, Eris would always like their fingers and use his powers to warm her up. Y/N smiled slightly at the memory.

“Are you sure you don’t love him, Y/N?” Azriel questioned.

There was a small pause.

“Of course I don’t,” Y/N said, her voice wavering.

Luckily for her, Azriel didn’t continue with his interrogation, instead he immediately began describing the plan they had set in place.

“However, instead of Eris, you will need to take his place, Y/N,” Azriel said.

“Me?” Y/N asked. “Why?”

“The deal we have with Eris is that we help him kill his father, we are merely there to assist with any of the protective measures Beron has placed in the way. Eris wanted to make the killing blow,” Rhys explained.

“And since Eris is currently unable to help in any way, we need someone else,” Azriel said.

Y/N frantically looked between Azriel and Rhys. “What about one of his brothers? What about Lucien?”

“Ever since Lucien was run out of the Autumn Court, he does not have the freedom to walk around like you do, the moment he crosses the border into Autumn, there will be a bounty on his head. And besides, by the time he arrives here from the human lands, Eris is as good as dead,” Rhys said.

Y/N sighed and looked at Eris. If she could do anything to help him, she would. Even if that included killing the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“What is the plan?” Y/N asked.

***

Everything went as planned. One by one Rhys, Azriel and Cassian picked off any guard Beron had posted until he was vulnerable. A blade given to her by Azriel was concealed in her skirts. All she needed to do was get close enough to him and stab him. That was all she needed to do.

But the closer she came to his office, the more her nerves began to rise. What will happen if she cannot distract him long enough to get closer? What will happen if the guards on the other side of the Forest House hear of what was happening? What will happen if Beron gets to her first?

Y/N shook her head, hoping to keep those thoughts at bay for a moment. As she stood in front of Beron’s study she raised her hand and knocked. There was a slight shuffling from inside before the door swung open.

Y/N held her breath as Beron looked down at her. A wicked smile stretched across his face.

“Y/N,” he said. “I never thought I would see your face around here again.”

Y/N tried her best to keep her voice steady as she replied. “I have the rest of the money my father owed you.”

Surprise filled Beron’s eyes. Y/N hated how similar his and Eris’s eyes were. In fact, she hated all the similarities between Beron and Eris. Although Beron’s hair was a dark brown, streaked with grey, his face was just an older version of Eris’s. But there was one stark difference. While Beron’s face was filled with cold cruelty, Eris’s features were softer and warmer. They were features Y/N had fallen in love with. Beron’s were features she hated.

“Come in,” Beron said, opening the door a little wider.

Y/N stepped past him and pulled a pouch of money out of her small bag. She placed it down on the desk. The money would only stay money for an hour. Once that hour was up it would turn back to regular pebbles.

“Where did you get this?” Beron questions, picking up one of the gold marks.

“I have been saving to leave the Autumn Court,” Y/N said, reciting the phrases she had been practising in her head. “I thought I would use the leftover money to pay off the debt. I believe this should be more than enough.”

Beron hummed and let the gold mark fall back into the pouch. Y/N flinched as it made the sound of a pebble hitting a pebble, not metal hitting metal. She hoped Beron wouldn’t notice. The weight of the blade concealed in her skirts got even heavier.

“May I ask you a question, Y/N?” Beron asked, his voice unusually relaxed.

“Of course, my lord,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She hadn’t rehearsed for any impromptu questions.

“No need to look so on edge,” Beron said, leaning against his desk. “I was only curious about the whereabouts of my son.”

“Which one?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Beron laughed, though there was no warmth behind it. “What a sense of humour. But I am sure you know which one I am talking about. My eldest, Eris.”

“I am not sure, my lord,” Y/N said, keeping her hand from fidgeting.

“Are you sure?” Beron said. “Because the last time I saw him, he mentioned something about you.”

“Did he?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

Beron nodded. “He did. He mentioned something about the debt you owe and a way to make you pay for it.”

Y/N chuckled nervously. “Well he might have known about my plans to leave the court. I haven’t seen him since the day I ran into him while working.”

“Are you sure?” Beron asked, leaning closer.

Y/N nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

Beron didn’t reply as he stepped closer, so close Y/N could smell the whisky on his breath. She wanted to flinch away but she could show no sign of weakness. Beron’s fingers lightly brushed against her cheek as he breathed in deep.

“Then why can I smell his blood on you?” Beron asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Y/N stuttered.

Beron tutted. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You know it won’t end well.”

Y/N didn’t reply, even as Beron brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, revealing a small splatter of Eris’s blood on her forehead.

“Do you want to know something, Y/N?” Beron asked, leaning back. “I did feel awful when your father needed to pay his debts back to me. I remember thinking if I should ever help you out, give you a little bit more money to get by. But that was when I found out that my very own son had been taking money from his personal funds for years, to pay off your debts.”

Y/N gasped. “What?”

“My son, whom I raised to be hard as steel, tough as nails, has been taking money from his own funds to pay off your debts. Funds that I give him myself,” Beron repeated. “When I checked in recently to see how much you had left to owe, it was a lower sum than I thought. I was confused by this as you can imagine, as by my own calculations, you shouldn’t have even paid ten percent by now when you have paid over ninety percent of it.”

Y/N looked down confused. By her own calculations, she had paid off fifty percent of her debts. But if Beron said that by his calculations she had only paid off ten percent in over five hundred years–

“You haven’t been paying me what I am owed,” Y/N said.

Beron shrugged. “Someone at your station only makes seven gold marks a week. I personally cut that down to three.”

“But that means–”

“Your debt has increased,” Beron said. “Every time you paid out money for food or water or new clothes that you thought you could afford. That money went right onto the end of your debt. I never intended for you to ever pay off your debt, Y/N. You father did me wrong, did everyone wrong. Since he died, his punishment simply passed onto you.”

“You were going to make me work until I died,” Y/N said.

“That was the plan until I found out my son had been paying off your debt over the years,” Beron sneered.

All those years that Y/N hated Eris for what he became, he was risking his life to pay off her never ending debt. A debt that would have killed her.

“When I found Eris depositing the last ten percent of the money into my account, I had my suspicions confirmed all along,” Beron said. “I always knew my son carried a flame for you, I could see it ever since you were children. When Tycho– mother rest his soul– was born, I needed Eris to step up to his duties. If I were to ever pass away, the High Lord status wouldn’t shift to the first born son– it may have shifted families completely– I needed my sons prepared. I needed them all to prove they were worthy of leadership.”

“You put them all against one another!” Y/N exclaimed.

“They did that themselves trying to impress me,” Beron said dismissively. “But Eris always had one thing preventing him from reaching his potential. You.”

Y/N wanted nothing more than to run out of the office and never return. The only sense of calm within her was whens he occasionally noticed the unnatural shift of a shadow.

“I always knew about the relationship between you and Eris, neither of you were subtle. When I ordered him to stay away from you, he refused again and again– so I took extreme measures to make sure he never spoke to you again.”

Y/N thought of the white scars on Eris’s back.

“But when even that didn’t work, I knew that punishing my son was not the way to go. So I threatened you. Eris knows that when I make a threat, I always follow through. I gave him an ultimatum, stay away from you and focus on his duties or your head would end up as a decoration in my ballroom.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face no matter how much she tried to stop them. “You are a diabolical male.”

Beron rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I haven't heard already.” Beron leaned back against his desk as he continued to speak. “Over the years I thought he had come to despise you. I thought I had finally knocked sense into him that fraternising with anyone of a lower class than him was frowned upon. But when I learned of all the money he had paid on your behalf, he needed a little more of a push to get it through his skull.”

“You nearly killed him,” Y/N growled.

Beron nodded, not looking the slightest bit sympathetic. “I know. It was my plan after all. Eris has always been led by his heart rather than his head. An attribute he had unfortunately inherited from his mother. I realised I could no longer stand to have a son as weak as him in the standing to become the next High Lord of Autumn– and his misdeeds gave me an excellent opportunity.”

“He isn’t weak,” Y/N sneered. “Eris is the strongest male I have ever known.”

Beron chuckled. “I see your affections for him are still very much alive. I know you are here to kill me, Y/N. I have known long before you knocked on my door. I also know that Eris is lying in your house close to death. It seems to be that only the power of a High Lord can save him.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “How did you know that?”

“I am not silly, Y/N. I have known where Eris has been this whole time. I always knew he would run to where he felt safest– into the arms of his mate.” At Y/N’s horrified expression Beron smiled. “Oh yes, I knew that too. I’ve known much longer than you have. Nearly four hundred years. I overheard Eris crything to his mother about it one night. It was pitiful if I am being honest.”

The grip Y/N had on the blade was so tight she was hurting her own hand but her grip wouldn’t loosen even if she wanted it to. She wanted to plunge the dagger into him again and again until he was nothing more than a pile of blood and organs on the floor.

“Over the years I contemplated killing you but I knew what your death would do to Eris and I couldn’t have the general of my armies weakened and going mad because of a broken mating bond.” Beron turned to his desk. “But since I know you won’t kill me and Eris is as good as dead, I will take great pleasure in this.”

“After all.” Beron picked up a small dagger of his own. “It is long overdue.”

Beron didn’t have the opportunity to even move the dagger into his dominant hand before Y/N stabbed the knife into his heart. His eyes were full of surprise as he looked down towards Y/N. She gripped the knife tighter and drove it deeper into his chest.

“Don’t fucking underestimate me again,” Y/N growled before she plunged the knife into his chest again.

And again.

Y/N screamed and plunged the knife in a final time, pushing Beron’s body onto the desk behind him.

Y/N panted as she sucked in air as she stared at the dead High Lord staring lifelessly to the ceiling. The blade in her hand shook, blood dripped from her hand to the floor; cutting through the silence like butter.

“Y/N,” Azriel said, appearing behind her. He slowly took the blade from her hand and Y/N’s eyes remained on the deceased High Lord.

“Will he be okay?” Y/N said through her sobs.

Azriel looked down at the dead High Lord. “I don’t think so.”

“Not him,” Y/N said, finally tearing her gaze from the cold body of Beron. “I am glad he is dead. I meant Eris. Will he be okay now?”

“Do you want to see him?” Azriel asked. “I am sure Rhys and the others will clean up here.”

Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from her face. Her attempt was futile as more tears replaced the old ones. Azriel held his hand out and Y/N took it and shadows immediately wrapped around her body. It was cold but somehow the cold comforted the burns on her body. One moment she was standing in the great hall in the Forest House and the next Y/N was standing back in her own bedroom. Within an instant Y/N rushed to Eris’s side. His breathing seemed to be even and colour had returned to his cheeks.

“The power of the High Lord has passed onto him,” Madja explained. “He is the High Lord of Autumn now.”

Y/N gently reached for his hand. As she linked her fingers through his, there was a slight twitch of his finger, the only movement he had made since he had passed out. “When will he wake up?”

“In his own time,” Madja siad, packing away her equipment. She handed Y/N a rag to clean the blood from her hands. “When he wakes, make sure that he is rested and drinks plenty of water. The power transfer between High Lords can cause a great toll on one's body and Eris’s body is already weak.”

Y/N simply nodded, not tearing her eyes away from Eris. “Thank you.”

The room was plunged into silence once more and Y/N was thankful for it. Azriel must have left her right as he dropped her back at her house. She was alone with Eris. A living and breathing Eris.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you hear that, Eris? You are the new High Lord of Autumn. It must be strange for you, becoming High Lord. It’s strange for me too. My mate is a High Lord. It doesn’t even seem real does it?”

She let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if you can hear me but if you can, just know that I do forgive you. I thought I hated you. For all of the things you said to me, about my father, how you treated me. But now I know that you did it for a reason. I have seen how awful your father is and I only have to admire you for what you put up with for all these centuries.”

Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his face. “I thought I wanted you dead but now I know that isn’t the case. The moment I thought you were dying, it felt as if a part of me was dying too. And it isn’t just because you are my mate. It is more than that. Eris, you were the only one I loved more than anything. You were always there for me. You loved me fiercely. You still love me fiercely. I think that what I am trying to say, Eris, is that no matter how much I shouldn’t, I believe part of me still loves me. And perhaps when you wake we can have a long overdue talk and decide where to go from here.”

A soft kiss was pressed upon Eris’s forehead. “Just please wake up soon. The quicker I can see those beautiful eyes, the better.”

***

When Eris did finally awake, Y/N was nowhere to be found. Eris was panicked and could feel the new power flooding his body. The pain from his body was completely gone but was replaced with an uncontrollable power threatening to burst. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His breathing became heavier as he clawed at his own chest.

What happened? He thought. The last thing he remembered and the last thing he thought he would ever see was the worried look in Y/N’s eyes as she pleaded with him to keep his eyes open. Where was she now? He was standing in her bedroom. Her scent lingered in the air. As he stumped closer to the door, Eris tried to pull on the golden thread but he couldn’t. The bond still hasn't snapped for Y/N it seemed. Eris wanted to scream.

The power within him was close to bursting and Eris knew that he needed to get away fast. He stumped from her bedroom and through the house until he was at the front door. He threw it open and the cool morning air hit him like a brick yet it still didn’t calm the blazing inferno inside of him.

As he made his way out of the front gate, Eris walked as fast as he could down the cobblestone street. The further he could get from anyone, the better.

“Eris!”

Eris stilled in his tracks and he slowly turned around.

Y/N stood near the path leading to the forest, a basket in her hands filled with flowers. The basket fell to the ground as she rushed forward, racing towards him.

“No!” Eris yelled. “Y/N, please don’t get near me.”

Y/N slowed her pace. “Eris, it’s okay.”

Eris shook her head. “No. My power…it’s stronger and I can’t control it. I feel it threatening to explode. I can’t let you get hurt.”

“And I’m not letting you get hurt either,” Y/N said, taking a few steps forward.

“Y/N,” Eris said. “Please leave me.”

“Eris, I am not leaving,” Y/N said. “I have made sure to keep you alive. You must be stupid to think that I will allow my mate to go through all of this alone.”

Eris couldn’t stop the tears anymore. “I don’t know what to do.”

A small reassuring smile fell upon Y/N’s lips. “Let me go to you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eris whispered.

Just imagining Y/N getting hurt because of him was enough for the burning in Eris’s veins to burn even hotter. Y/N was the one thing he had sought to protect all these centuries. That wouldn’t stop now.

“You won't,” Y/N said. “I trust you, Eris.”

Y/N stepped forward slowly, inching towards him.

“No, Y/N,” Eris cried. “Please stay where you are.”

Y/N only continued to step forward and Eris didn’t have the energy to run away. The fire within him burned hotter and hotter the closer she got.

There was perhaps a metre between their bodies now and Eris could feel the fire beginning to show as it danced around his body in dull embers. It was only a matter of time now.

Y/N inched forward faster and Eris felt his body relax at the scent of her familiar perfume. The fire around him began to grow larger.

“Y/N,” Eris said, his voice pained. “Please help me.”

The moment Y/N’s hand brushed his, Eris collapsed into Y/N’s arms. His power burnt around them in a whirlpool of fire. It continued on and on yet Y/N held him through it all, her grip not faltering for a second. The new High Lord’s body began to shake as he sobbed into Y/N’s arms.

“Eris,” Y/N mumbled as the fire slowly died down to embers settling down beside them.

Eris didn’t reply as his grip only tightened on Y/N. Holding her within his arms again was a welcome feeling. They were two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

“You’re okay,” Y/N whispered as her fingers tangled in his hair. “You’re okay.”

Deep within him, Eris could feel his power becoming restless. He knew it was only a matter of time before it would burst out of him again. He knew that he needed to learn to keep it under control. His power before only seemed like an ember to the powers he had now.

“Is he dead?” Eris asked as he pulled away from the hug, finally looking at Y/N.

She nodded. “He is.”

“How?” Eris forced the question out.

“I killed him,” Y/N said and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I sent a letter to the Night Court and they helped me get close enough.”

Eris’s hands gently cradled Y/N’s face. “I am sorry you had to do that.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m not. It was the only way to save you. I would do it again and again if it meant that you would come back to me.”

“Oh, my love,” Eris muttered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. The movement so strange after all of these years yet so natural.

“I am sorry, Eris,” Y/N said. “For thinking you were a cruel, horrible and loveless male for all of these years.”

“Don’t apologise,” Eris muttered against her forehead. “It is what I wanted you to think.”

“You suffered so much because of me,” Y/N cried.

Eris caressed her face and he wiped the tears away. He hated to see her cry. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat because I love you. You are the only one I have ever loved and the only one I will ever love.”

Y/N met his eyes. “I don’t know what I feel. I have been mating you for so many years but now it is all too much. I-I don’t hate you, not at all. And I know, deep down, that there was always a part of me that still loved you no matter how stupid it was. Now, I just don’t know.”

“It is okay not to know,” Eris said. “I am not going to rush you into anything. I am not expecting you to immediately love me again. I did what I did out of love for you, I don’t care if you do not return my feelings.”

“But I do,” Y/N insisted. “At least in some capacity. Everything is all so complicated.”

Eris sighed and pulled her closer. “I know. So much has changed in only a few short hours. My father– Beron– is dead. I am a High Lord with enough power to set the whole course and possibly the neighbouring courts ablaze. You are free of your debts–”

“That is strange,” Y/N said. “For five hundred years I have been living with it looming over my shoulder. To not pay anything seems wrong.”

“I imagine it would be,” Eris said.

“Perhaps now somebody in the village will hire me,” Y/N said thoughtfully.

“Or what about transferring all of the money you have made and all of the money I placed in Beron’s account into one for you?” Eris suggested.

“Eris, that is too much money,” Y/N said, pulling away from him the smallest amount.

“Y/N, for five hundred years you have been shackled to Beron, he has been pulling on the chains if you ever strayed too far,” Eris said. “It is time to start living again.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I honestly do not know what that entails anymore.”

“Perhaps you should go and find out for yourself,” Eris suggested, a small pain in his heart at the thought of Y/N leaving him.

Y/N looked down to the ground for what was only a few seconds but to Eris it felt like hours.

“Maybe I should,” Y/N said. “I have always wanted to see beyond this village and visit other courts.”

“Then get out there and go,” Eris pushed.

“I will,” Y/N said, “but on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” Eris asked.

“My mate comes with me,” Y/N said.

Just hearing Y/N claim Eris as her mate sent shockwaves down his spine. For nearly five hundred years he had been keeping this secret to himself with only his mother knowing about it. Hearing Y/N say it aloud made his heart swell.

“Obviously not right away as you have some duties to attend to but perhaps you can join me in a few months once everything is settled with you as High Lord?” Y/N suggested.

For the first time in centuries a bright and wide smile stretched across Eris’s face. “I would love that, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled back and if Eris was standing he would feel weak at the knees. It was the smile he would now only ever see in his dreams. Seeing it in reality, it was even more beautiful.

“I think I will pack tomorrow and set off the following day,” Y/N said. “If you would like to join me for dinner before I go…”

“Name the place and I am there,” Eris said, feeling his heart beat even quicker.

A breath passed by Y/N’s lips and Eris’s eyes darted down to them. “I should get back to the Forest House. My first duty as High Lord will be to send a letter to the Night Court.”

Y/N leaned closer to Eris. “Could I accompany you there? I would like to add a message in the letter too.” Eris didn’t miss the way her eyes darted down to his lips.

Eris nodded. “Of course. Shall we set off now?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. The quicker you are back home, the quicker you can start resting. Madja’s orders.”

Despite the two claiming to begin the walk to the Forest House, neither of them stood up, still remaining on the ground. Eris’s hands inched closer and gently clasped Y/N’s in his, feeling her soft skin against his again was one he craved desperately these past five hundred years.

“Y/N,” Eris said, his voice low and full of longing. “Can I–”

“Yes,” Y/N said, a small smile gracing her face. “You may kiss me.”

Eris didn’t waste a single second and pressed his lips against hers.

Though they still needed to work through a lot of things, together and alone, Eris would happily stay within the temporary bubble the two had created, wrapped in the comfort of Y/N’s arms forever if he could.

However the moment Y/N pulled away, the bubble popped and the reality of the last several days crashed upon Eris.

“Let us go to the Forest House,” Y/N whispered against his lips. “The quicker we write the letter, the quicker we can rest, tangled together under the covers like we used to do.”

They both stood from the floor and Eris gently grasped Y/N’s hand, linking his fingers with hers. As Eris and Y/N walked down the cobblestone path to the Forest House, the clouds parted and made way for a beautiful blue sky.

@myromanempiree @talesofadragon @marina468 @rcarbo1 @marielouiseva @lilah-asteria @acourtofbatboydreams @glaciuswduo @adventure-awaits13 @thecraziestcrayon @saltedcoffeescotch @warmdragonfly

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vinamari · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝚂𝚈𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚂𝙸𝚂: You had no regrets as a jujutsu sorcerer, so why should you now?

��𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂: Unrequited love, pure angst, hurt/no comfort, character death, slight spoilers, Various!JJK x Reader, Gojo Satoru x Reader

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 3,377

“Shoko”, your voice hoarsely called out.

You felt your chest rise and fall as you drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep your breathing steady. She looked at your body which had been leaning against the rubbles of broken down buildings, far from where you currently were had been two special grade curses which had burned away. You were just holding on as she did everything she could to prevent you from leaving. Her eyes still hadn’t moved, staring at the ground beneath her feet like she was hypnotized.

You watched her for a few more seconds before calling her name out again.

“Hey, could just sit with me?”, watching as she bit her lip before walking towards you and taking a seat on the firm ground next to you. You knew she needed to get up and do something. But then again, what else could she possibly do? Your mind was just starting to function and become aware of the impact your body had taken, it didn’t matter now. You couldn’t feel anything waist down, Shoko knew that.

“Be here with me in my last moments, yeah?”, the words left your lips in a whisper, but they were loud enough to carry. You smiled slightly at her, knowing she couldn’t bear to look at you. “Don’t say that, you’ll be fine”, she said suddenly, she was clutching onto your hand.

She was lying to herself, she was lying to you. She knew very well the injuries you sustained would kill you, the blood loss was heavy and no one was around to help. Not even her. And neither of you deserved this, nor would those who find out. You weren’t supposed to end up like this, which is what she wanted to say. “Ieiri, it’s okay it isn’t your fault”.

It took her a few minutes before she could muster up some words, her shaking grip became tighter on yours, almost painfully so. “I know...I don’t want to leave you...”. Tears started to form in her eyes, but you knew she wouldn’t cry. You knew that if you cried then you might lose control of yourself too, and neither of you needed that right now. You tried hard not to cry too. Taking in a deep breath, “How are the kids?”, you asked her softly, hoping her mind wouldn’t go to the idea of you eventually passing away. She gave you a shaky smile. “They’re good, they all are safe”. You nodded, smiling a little.

“Instead my shirt is a pocket, it has something in there”, understand that you wanted her to take it out. She carefully undid the front of your shirt, you were wearing another shirt beneath it, looking for what you wanted she reached for the pocket, her fingers felt a photographic film. Pulling it out, she sees that the objects in her hand were two photographs. “I wanted too look at it for the last time”, your smile slightly wavering into a sad one.

The first photo had been from the time of when you all had been in the Jujutsu Highschool, it was a image inside an arcade area at a popular mall on Tokyo. The image depicted Gojo losing to Geto in a fighting game, with Geto high-fiving Shoko while you had comforted Gojo all while trying to hide your laugh. Shoko smiled dryly at the image, she wasn’t the one to reminisce in the past only to talk about it if you or someone else from back then had brought it up.

She heard a snicker beside her, despite the situation you were still laughing. “I still remember when Geto milked out all the money Gojo had for the week”, you said while looking fondly at the photo. Shoko looked at you with her tired eyes, unable to fight the small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, and then Gojo begged us for some money even though he’s rich”. Shoko looked fondly back at the picture, her eyes shining with memories. She shifted her hand so it would be between the both of you.

“Do you still remember when Gojo forgot to cast the veil?”, you ask with a chuckle. “Gojo was doing everything he could to try distract Yaga Sensei from it”, Shoko said thinking back on the memory before laughing. “Especially since we all just pointed at him”. You both couldn’t help but snicker at his misfortune.

“Geto wouldn’t stop teasing him about right after”, you said. “Geto..”, said the brown eyed girl. You glance upwards, “You ever wonder what it would have been like if things didn’t turn out the way they did?”, you said curiously. Half of your face had been covered in blood, you could feel it dripping down from your chin onto your clothes.

There was a long pause, Shoko thought for a moment. “Yeah”, she finally answered. She turned to face you, a faltering smile on her lips. “We all would have been happier, you would have been really happy”.

“Really what makes you think that?”, asking her in genuine tone. “Because you would have finally had what you wanted”.

A cough left your mouth, you knew what she was implying. It was the one thing you didn’t want to think about. “You can’t lie Y/N”, Shoko said. You closed your eyes, sighing. You opened them again, facing her directly. You shook your head, “No”, you admitted. “But, I really hoped to say it one day”, you said looking her dead in the eye, making sure she knew that you meant what you said. “However now, I can never say it personally”. Shoko was confused, what did you mean?

“What?”, urging you to continue you with your words. “In my apartment, when you enter my room go to my desk”, you paused before continuing. “The drawer which needs a key has two albums inside”. “The photographs of our time inside and out of Jujutsu High”.

Quickly taking in a breath, “There’s an envelope in which I confess, give it to him”. You looked at her with pleading eyes. “You kept all the photos?”, Shoko asked wide-eyed. “Of course I did, I thought it would be nice to think back”, you said thinking back to when you first had the idea. “However this picture is the last one I hadn’t put in yet”. Shoko didn’t dare say a word, she couldn’t believe you were going never to be able to confess, only through a little over a decade ago.

“He’ll love it”, she whispered, her throat closing up as she realized what you were planning on doing. “Just promise me one thing”. Shoko looked at you waiting for you to continue. “Tell them I loved all of them”. She could only nod at what you said.

“The second photograph”, you groaned out. Shoko brought forth the second picture putting the first one behind it. This one being of the new first and second years. “I’m glad I got to see these one last time”, you let out short breaths.

Shoko noticed your breaths become regular by the minutes, your chest was falling slightly faster all while your organs were slowly shutting themselves down. Shoko shifts so you could rest your head on her, the blood was now soaking up the white material of her coat, becoming damp in your blood.

“When I first met Yuuji, I felt terrible for the kid being put for execution”, grimacing at the statements the higher ups had made. “He’s bright and still has room to grow”, you smiled. “Nobara, despite her direct and indirect insults she is bright and determined”. “Lastly Megumi, comparing himself with Yuuji although they both are different”. Shoko continued listening to your rants about them all. “They were all like my kids you know”, you expressed fondly. Shoko knew you loved all of them equally and they loved you. You were there to help them, protect them, and keep them safe. “Although Megumi believed I would replace his mom which was his reasoning to avoid me, I always thought he was my son even if he didn’t think so mom or not”, remembering how he would do anything to avoid talking to you or even meeting you.

The dark haired boy had eventually grown to love you months after meeting him. He relied on you for more things then he ever would with Gojo. It felt as if you had made your own family with Gojo and Megumi, Tsumiki eventually came into the family as well. Making the entire family complete. However Gojo just simply thought you both were their guardians and nothing more. It hurt at first, considering that you liked him instead you brushed it off. In your own world inside your mind you all were a family. Delusional.

Shoko sighed, “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, hasn’t it?”. You nodded. “It’s almost impossible not to, especially now that I’m dying”. Shoko stared at you in disbelief. “You’re not dying!”. But you just laughed. “You think I’m immortal? You think I won’t die? What about those Special Grade curses who came here?”. You motioned to the now burned away curses. You were right, at this point you’re beyond the point from making a return. The only way you’d even live is if they had hooked you onto life support to keep you going, but you’d be bedridden your entire life. You wouldn’t want to live like that, you’d only suffer.

“Ieiri”, grabbing Shoko’s attention. “The day when Gojo said that Geto was his best friend, his one and only”

“I want you to know that you’re my best friend, you’re my one and only”. Shoko couldn’t help but cry, the day when those words left Gojo’s mouth it had made her feel as if she was never their friend, yet here you were comforting her when you’re getting closer to kissing death.

You pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks too. “I don’t have much time left”. Shoko sniffled and buried herself deeper into your embrace as the words left your mouth. You held her close and kissed her forehead. “I love you”, you said softly. “I love all of you, maybe in another world we all are happy”.

You rested your head against hers, your breaths were becoming shallower and your conscious was slowly leaving. Shoko didn’t know when your hand dropped to your side, the blood staining your shirt now darkening her white coat. She just stayed quiet watching the scene, knowing that you needed your peace and quiet as your breathing steadily slowed soon gone, your body losing strength and all feelings, finally your heart beating slower and harder than ever before before it came down completely with no pulse. You were gone.

Your body had gone limp against her, the warmth leaving your skin and being replaced by the chill of death. Your blood soaked through your clothes, the stench thick in the air. You had died in her arms, she couldn't bring herself to move your body.

The world was silent around you; all she heard was ruffling noises of her settling you on the ground. She wanted to cry, but nothing came. All that remained was grief for your loss of life. The two photographs that had been in her hand, she would make sure were in the albums. Taking the photographs, she put them away in the pockets of her white crimson stained coat.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she did so and a sharp pain shot through her body like an arrow of ice through her heart, freezing her where she stood. The sensation didn't last long however, it disappeared after seconds as the reality of what had just happened hit her. You died, you’re not here anymore.

Days have passed since your death, she had your body be brought to her lab while preparing for your funeral. The news of your death spread like wildfire among other jujutsu sorcerers as well as the council. The first years and second years had taken your death the worst, believing you’d come back just as Yuuji did. Denial was something shoko was unfamiliar with, she was usually straightforward when it came to stuff like this. Except this time. What else could she say, you were like a parental figure to them. Who wouldn’t be in denial if they lost someone they loved, especially if they died trying to just protect and keep you away from the very thing that would have killed them. But now she couldn’t lie to them anymore, so she tried her best to comfort them and assure them it would be alright.

It had been a complete mess for everyone, having to get used to you not being there to help them with certain things or training with them. Megumi, the raven haired boy had been in his dorm the entire day reflecting. He wishes he had opened up more to you, he wishes he hadn’t been as cold as he was to you when all you did was trying to take care of him. Here was crying at all the memories he had of you knowing there won’t be any new ones. Yuuji and Nobara hadn’t been as ecstatic, knowing that the one person that treated them like their kid who would treat their injuries wasn’t there anymore. It was hard waking up every day realizing you weren’t going to be there to help them in face of danger. Your funeral was couple days away. They still haven’t talked about you being dead. They don’t think Nobara has spoken in hours. Unusual for the girl since has a lot of things to say. Yuuji didn’t know what to do, he lost a lot of people such Nanami, grandfather, Junpei, and you were added onto that list.

No one knew where Gojo had been, when he did show up he still acted the same as if your death hadn’t taken any toll on him. When asked why he hadn’t shown up earlier or said anything at all he simply replied that he didn’t want to. Not even Megumi believed him. Although his response was infuriating they could only bite their tongues and hold it back.

“How could you just say that?!”, a voice yelled. It was Maki, she looked up to you due to your fighting abilities and had even asked you to train her from time to time. Inumaki and Panda could only look away at the scene. “Listen, jujutsu sorcerers die having to do this, Y/N just met the fate of it”. Before anyone could retaliate he simply warped away with the excuse of needing to meet the council.

The white haired male was deceiving himself with that response. The days he hadn’t been at the school he was helping Shoko plan the funeral and the days he wasn’t planning the funeral he would be thinking for hours about all your time back at the Jujutsu Highschool. The Gojo Satoru grieving for someone that hadn’t been so close to him like Geto Suguru who he himself had killed, it truly had left a scar on everyone. Even if it hurt him physically. He didn’t tell anyone though, he wasn’t ready to talk about the feelings he felt he never would be. He had thought they were long gone but apparently not. He wished you could be here to hear the words coming out of his mouth, the words that would explain everything. He wishes that you both could have at least been in love. Or at least been happy together, that he would have seen that in you sooner.

Now you were gone and he couldn’t change that. There was no way you’d ever come back. He should have listened to Megumi and told you. Maybe things could have turned out differently, you would have been able to call him for help. He hoped so anyway. He just wished that you two would have talked about how you felt, instead of pretending that the feelings weren’t there. Every jujutsu sorcerer has regrets, this just happened to be a major one for him.

It was the day of the funeral, many had been gathered around your body which was neatly placed in a casket. The inside of it had been filled with flowers and red roses. Your attire was completely changed from the previously ripped up one in which you died in. Everyone had said their condolences with faces either filled with smiles feeling nothing but sadness and grief, other which were still in denial. Gojo had simply looked at you with indifference not noticing the way his fist clenched when it had been announced to lower you into the ground. They all watched as the casket had been sealed shut and was slowly being lowered into the ground. Tears were silently streaming down their faces, the now cloudy sky had started to share it’s own grief. The droplets simply pouring onto the casket before dripping down. Heads were hung low refusing to watch as the dirt hit the coffin.

The sound of weeping became deafening, no one dared speak above a whisper. The silence was killing everyone, it was as if the weight of your absence was pressing down on their chest. No one dared to leave, they were terrified, it was too soon to see you buried, it would feel too real. This was a dream that they all wanted to wake up from. The wind picked up and carried the scent of rain and flowers away. People took this as their cue to start dispersing until only Gojo remained near your grave. He had been the last to leave, setting down a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

A day had passed since your funeral, Shoko knew you wouldn’t want them to grieve. She had been inches away from your apartment, opening the door and turning the lights on. She trudged towards your room before finally reaching your desk. She had taken out the two albums going through all the memories you had collected. The first album, being from when you guys were sorcerers the second one being of the new first years mixed with the second years. She realized there had been the same space in both albums to fit the photographs, taking them out she carefully place them in to their rightful spot. Before closing the album first album, an envelope was sticking out.

To Gojo, signed off by your name. She quickly retrieved both the albums and the note before driving off to the dorms calling all first and second years as well as Gojo. They were reluctant until it was mentioned that you wanted them to have something.

They had all surrounded Shoko in anticipation, until she presented the second album to them titled “My Kids”. They took it as they all looked over the photographs you had taken of them through the time you had been with them, it was a parting gift from you to them. They all couldn’t stop the tears which had started streaming down their faces as they all relived their moments with you. The first album Shoko had decided to show Gojo personally as well as handing him the letter you had written which confessed your feelings. Shoko stepped out of the room leaving Gojo by himself.

He decided to go through the album looking at the pictures longer in order to feel as if he was there. One by one he remembered every moment with you and the others. After closing the album, he read the letter which had sitting neatly to his side waiting to be opened almost a decade ago. Mentions about you not wanting to ruin your friendship yet wanting to if it meant you having a chance with him. His hands were creasing the edges of the paper, he only wished you had told him sooner and maybe just maybe he could have loved you before you died. To know what it meant to love. To know that it could be possible to do so, it made him smile sadly to himself.

You hadn’t died with regrets, however it left others with a regret of their own.

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calisources · 9 months ago

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𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒.

All of these sentences are mostly taking by my own mind and i'm not joking. It was hard finding material quotes regarding tournaments in historical or fantasy setting. Some are from shows or media but eighty percent is all from my own mind, please give credit if use these. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit. All of these involve the medieval event of a tournament and what happens around them.

I fear I am already bending far too many rules just by taking you, my young princess.

Show me your hands, you will have blisters soon.

Lady Eglantine doesn’t believe in love, only lust.

In the world of competition, only the strongest shall prevail.

A true champion is not defined by their victories, but by the obstacles they've overcome.

Victory is sweetest when it's earned through sweat, hard work, and determination.

Will you not participate in the tourney, my lord?

May I have the honor of wearing your favor today, my lady?

Good luck to you, my Prince.

The tournament is not just a test of skill, but a test of character as well.

Is it always this bloody? Will those poor men die? Someone must see them.

I want him to wear my favor. Only him.

If he wins, the knight has the right to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. And at the feast, they shall dance.

Be careful. A tourney is a grand place for courtly love, but also, for blood to rise and affairs to appear.

Call me what you like, say I'm without honor, I don't care. I'm not getting on any more horses to whack you people with a stick.

Kings may be chosen by God, but they still make the mistakes of men.

When even those who rule can sink this low, it is not possible to change anything.

It's my lucky charm, be sure to bring it back to me.

My favorite blue ribbon. Take it.

It will bring you good fortune and you will return from joust unharmed.

I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor.

How about a kiss, for luck?

Courtly love was the culture around the performance of love at court.

And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly boorish mating ritual.

The knights take on the duties of shadows with pride.

Whoever wins the tournament, shall become the prince/princess’ new betrothed.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

Petyr survived only because I begged Brandon not to kill him.

When Petyr heard of my engagement, he challenged Brandon to a duel.

You do qualify to marry my daughter.

What matters most is who she will give her favor to.

Her face is one that can create dynasties or crumble empires.

I was hoping for a word before you rode on the tourney, my Prince.

My brother is the one competing against you, please be gentle with him.

The games are done for the day, please, feast and drink as you wish.

You have been staring all day, my lord. I was beginning to wonder if I had something in my face.

Any damsel that's in distress - she'll be out of that dress when she meets Jim West.

Great men do not seek power... they have power thrust upon them.

My daughter seems. . .infatuated with you. I have yet to see why.

The princess is naive and thinks any man who is kind means well. A tournament will only show her the reality of life.

You honor the arena with your combat. May your swords and shield preserve the peace.

In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.

I will be brave for Princess Pea.

As a squire, your first duty is to your knight’s armor. Your knight’s armor is more important than your own life.

You will be knighted and you will have earned your knighthood.

You are hurt. At least let me tend to your wound.

The men laugh and fight and the ladies search for husbands.

Nothing like a good tournament to find a husband, or a companion for the night.

Rumors are always spread with ease in these.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?

You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die.

We're married now, but we still haven't told your dad. This is the right time.

Are you promised to someone?

My sister's getting married. It's a love match. A rare thing. I’m not so lucky. My husband is to be chosen by who can hold a sword the longer.

Why can’t women participate in the games?

There are games for the ladies, Your Grace. But they are less. . .gruesome. And of course, the dancing.

Princes and Princess all over the realm and across the sea are coming for this event. You must shine brighter.

Let me help you with your armor. It appears loose.

As I promised, I return your favor to you, my lady.

The Prince never loses a joust. He will crown his queen and then all will be well.

I do not understand the appeal of this.

I spend days making these favors, let me stay a little longer.

My lady, I do not need your favor to win, but perhaps, a kiss of good faith.

I do not care who wins these games, your hand is already arranged for another.

Men are scoundrel, specially when blood runs hot after a good battle, stray away from them.

These games are done in honor of the king’s heir.

The lord’s daughter is said to have bloomed, and the man chooses to announce it like this.

A tournament is for men to boost their strength, fathers sell their daughters like mares and for affairs to happen.

I saw you on the stands today, my lord. But you did not participate on the games.

My brother wishes to dance with you, my lady. He is all too shy to ask himself.

You were injured. Have you allowed someone to heal them or are you too stubborn to let them?

Princess, you must not stray too far away.

Mother is too drunk and annoyed to care, she won’t mind.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #medieval meme #tournament meme #tourney meme

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bones4thecats · 6 months ago

Note

you can also do Orion pax/Optimus prime x cybertroniana reader, both were a couple before the war, and they still follow him on Earth

TFP! Optimus Having A Longtime S/O

Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers Prime) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: I love this trope. Just a calm and nonchalant boyfriend x his loving and slightly-feral S/O! Anyways, I hope you like this. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: The ending of the show and Predcons Rising Film ⚠️

Fun fact: I wrote this listening to Lion King/Guard songs😂

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»——————————-　 Optimus Prime 　——————————-««

⚔️ Optimus doesn't have that many people left, at least people that he knows that are currently alive. He knew more friends were deceased than alive basically

⚔️ Though, he does have someone alive that he cares the most about; his adorable S/O. You.

⚔️ Meeting back when he was still Orion Pax and a young data clerk working inside of the Iacon and you were the current Grand Diplomat of Alpha Trion's rule as Cybertron's Council's head

⚔️ You had to deliver some information in pads to the place to get organized, and when the young bot smiled and allowed you inside to organize them to how Alpha Trion wished, you began to ask about his life

⚔️ As you began to speak from time-to-time whenever you visited with more classified documents, a bond was formed quick. While many solar cycles passed, the pair of young bots were ogled on by many elders, especially Orion's friend, Megatronus, and your boss, Alpha Trion

⚔️ You were there when Megatronus, now Megatron, was denied in favor of Orion. And you were right by his side when the war blasted off and you soared away with his small team to Earth in hopes of finding something to help with the war and your home planet

⚔️ And while you two would spend many of your days by one another, as the war progressed, that was becoming harder and harder. Thankfully, your teammates would get you two to spend time together by taking some work away from your servos

⚔️ Now, when it comes to missions, you guys almost always go together. Very rarely are you apart in battle. And whenever you go without him, he keeps solid contact with you, and whenever he doesn't get a decent reply, he gets worried beyond recognition

⚔️ During the time fighting against Megatron for the final time, you were help hostage with Ratchet. Being held not for assistance in finalizing the synthetic energon, but for your information on fixing Cybertron, in which you told Megatron to piss off and jump down a hole to a scrapheap

⚔️ Unlike Ratchet, you weren't given to Predaking to kill, rather, you were held in a cell surrounded by Vehicon soldiers. In a matter of minutes, you had gone from acting unconscious to wrapping your legs around on soldiers neck from behind and killing all around you. Think of that scene from The Suicide Squad (2021) when Harley broke out

(Here's a link for reference: Link) - warnings for A LOT blood and death!

⚔️ Optimus was very pleased when he saw both you and Ratchet okay, but when he saw a Vehicon attempt attacking you, he blasted him to the Well of the Allspark. Despite this, you fought brilliantly against the many soldiers against you

⚔️ You also showed a new depth of rhythmicity, from attacking Megatron from behind as Optimus took the front. And before you were knocked aside roughly and your sparkmate was hanging onto the Nemesis, everyone, including Decepticons, were shocked at how in-sync you two were. You really were sparkmates

⚔️ Bumblebee then killed Megatron, making you leap in joy and help him get your sparkmate up and onto the ship's base. You held the mech closely as you cheered with the rest of your team about the win against the Cons

⚔️ Throughout the rest of your lives together, you spent it fighting against Unicron. And while it was hard for you to say goodbye to your lover of many hundreds of years, you couldn't help but shed a tear when his red, white, and blue spark spun around you and acted as if he was pecking your forehead

⚔️ The others watched with smiles as you kissed the spark before watching it fly away. Ratchet patted your shoulder as Bee and the other, including Knockout, gathered around you in a large group hug. You were a family no matter what, thanks to the mech you called your one and only...

"I love you, Y/N..."

#Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #TFP Autobots #Transformers x Reader #Transformers Prime x Reader #TFP x Reader #TFP Autobots x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Cybertronian! Reader #Autobot! Reader #TFP Optimus Prime #TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

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divine-motion · 10 days ago

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the thing about Handler Walter (his full christian name) is that he's a really horrible guy. he's a guy who's decided that he needs to be an extremely cold, pragmatic, paranoid man willing to use anyone and anything to "right the wrongs of the past" (which is to burn it all down and commit genocide, even if he doesn't know that Coral is sentient that is still what he's doing, plus i imagine every Rubiconian dies too in the Fires ending or are at the very least heading towards a slow death of starvation and such)

but

he's also really sentimental, something he's tried really hard to bury to be the man he feels he needs to be in order to fulfill the legacy passed onto him and Carla. this is why he ends up caring a lot about C4-621 aka Raven (aka G13 aka... the list goes on) and probably all his previous hounds too. he doesn't want to do what he's done to them - using them as slave soldiers, attack dogs to throw into the meat grinder as necessary sacrifices even though he himself is at least capable as a pilot. he lets 617, 618, 619, 620 and who knows how many others get killed because he thinks it's better that they die than that he dies before he can finish the mission. this then likely changes with 621 as he determines that they have a better shot at finishing the mission than he ever did and makes sure that they escape rather than him (also maybe pragmatically thinking "if Arquebus re-educates 621 then everyone loses forever" bc he has at this point discovered that he pulled god's greatest killing machine out from the bottom of the bargain bin) in addition, while i think him wanting to get 621 Raven to "buy their life back" and "undo the surgery, become 'normal' again" is a genuine desire for them to attain some happiness or so, i think it is also, mainly, a way for him to feel better about what he's done to them. a way to wash the sins of his father from his hands - sure, the blood of every other hound is on his hands, and there are still plenty of old gens suffering similar fates to 621, being treated like dogs and machines that can just be switched on or off whenever their Handlers want to, but at least this one made it out, at least this one could escape the Coral

and yet. asking them to burn Rubicon. is dooming them. history knows them as the monster who burned the stars from then on. there is no peace for a hound that chooses to carry on his legacy that he imparts to them.

sure, Walter is kind of, textually, Raven's dad. and he's kind of a bad dad. well-meaning and caring in his own gruff way, but still not great. i think he puts it himself best in the post-credits message, where he says "I'm sorry... and I'm grateful." he knows what a burden it is. and despite the fact that he gives Raven a lot of choices in what they do, it doesn't really change that Raven never got to choose to even go to Rubicon, the legacy is still something thrust onto them with little say in the matter. they were switched off by the cerebral Coral control device when they were being transported to Rubicon, and Walter holds the power over them completely since he decides when or even if Raven gets to be awake and about. i think it is very telling that Raven can and will take jobs that are specifically behind Walter's back, and that it's only once Walter's gone that they dare to go against him directly (or when offered protection by ALLMIND, who proves themself to be able to circumvent Walter's watchful eye).

that's not even to say that i think that 621 Raven hates Walter or anything! the fact that in the liberator ending, after he puts the gun down with the "you found a friend" line, Raven is backing away at first, keeping their eye on Walter as long as they can before turning to escape the Xylem being pulled down by Rubicon's gravity, all that i think means that they do care. the emotional core of that ending hinges on the fact they don't want to fight Walter. it's like how you kind of inevitably love your parents even if you know how they've mistreated you (not saying this is universal but it's what i know from personal experience and from a lot of friends i have that have been in similar situations to me).

but anyways. the point is. i really like walter. he kind of sucks! and i think we should explore the side of Raven that isn't slavishly loyal to him, because they very obviously aren't, or else they wouldn't be so comfortable repeatedly going behind his back. Fires ending is an exception tho since, as i've pointed out in another post, the one where you actively choose to remain nothing more than Walter's faithful hound

#lovi speaks #armored core 6 #sorry i had walter thoughts and needed them out #i like him. he's a bad guy though

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optimisticgardenhologram · 19 days ago

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Mello gets a lot of shit about his chosen path of becoming a criminal and joining the Mafia to take Kira down. It actually makes a lot of sense though.

It's easy to say he should have taken the high road by legally working with the legitimate lawful authorities. But you have to remember Mello was offered and chose to leave behind all the power, influence and money that came with the position of being L's successor. As a consequence he had to restart out from nothing and rise up through the world from scratch. No matter how precocious, hard working and talented you are that's not really something that's possible for an outsider to accomplish in such a short time span in the straight world of government and business. However in the parallel underground world of organized crime these barriers aren't necessarily as rigid and entrenched - there is possibility for an unknown young upstart to prove their worth, rapidly make a place for themselves, and forge connections at the top of the organization.

Also when you think about the state of the world by 2008 - with the general population terrorized, Kira able to topple governments with nothing but a name and face, and entire nations being cowed into submission - organized crime is probably one of the last-standing vestiges of coordinated resistance Kira. The mafia has is a built-in element of secrecy (and by this time most are no doubt using fake names) and at the most fundamental level are Kira's natural enemies. It is not only in the mafia's best interest as an organization, but it's necessary to their very survival to bring down Kira. Their position in the world makes them natural allies in the fight against him. And what they bring to the table is power, money, resources and willingness to throw everything needed into the fight, to make gains against Kira and win. For them there's no going back, it's kill or be killed. And Mello was able to leverage his intelligence, skills and the stark reality of the situation to rally them to his cause and elicit their full trust, loyalty and support.

It's unsavory to work to the benefit of mafioso scumbags and push forward their cause, but they were never more than means to an end for him. Mello has always been willing to make high risk, high reward moves and above all do ANYTHING it takes to achieve his goals whether or not the path there would be considered the morally upright one.

Near's lawfully-sanctioned SPK on the other hand was fully disavowed by their supporters, defunded and outlawed by the American government the moment its leadership changed and the new weak-willed President was cowed into submission in the face of Kira's threats. Ultimately they too had to become criminals to continue the fight. If Near didn't have access to L's wealth and resources, he'd have been forced to back down unable to fund his ventures and his employees.

You can say that Mello should have just sucked up his pride and worked with Near from the start. But that wouldn't be responsive to his character, and honestly -specifically at the start of the case- I don't think it would have been effective either. In the conventional law-abiding world Mello would never have been permitted to make the extreme maneuvers he did that ultimately cracked open the case by forcing Light against his will to hand over the Death Note itself and reveal the cards he's been hiding for over 5 years.

To be clear this isn't in any way a defense of organized crime and the reprehensible activities that the mafia (fictional or otherwise) is involved in, but just an examination of why it was in fact a calculated and strategically practical choice for Mello to ally with them in this situation.

#long post #analysis #death note meta #mello #mello death note #mihael keehl #13 days of mello posting

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joelsrose · 3 months ago

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Roses & Rust

Eek!! Guys this is my first ever Joel slow burn fanfic I hope you guys enjoy !! I have the next few chapters ready to post so please let me know if you want me to post them!!! Super slow burn slay .. enjoy babies xx this is not super accurate to the time jump and age in the game and show - reader is late 20s and Joel is late 40’s early 50’s!!

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Summary: In a world ravaged by infection and chaos, survival is all that remains. Once a doctor with a life filled with love and promise, you've spent the last eight years fighting your way through a broken landscape, haunted by the loss of everything you once held dear. When a chance encounter with Joel Miller and Tess brings you into the Boston QZ, your journey takes a turn you never expected. As you both navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, an unexpected romance begins to bloom, fragile and uncertain, against the backdrop of survival.

Chapter 1: Thorns of Survival

Survival. That was all your life had been for the last eight years. Every step, every breath, every decision—focused solely on staying alive. You grunted as you trudged through the overgrown streets, boots caked in mud, legs heavy with exhaustion. The worn-out, hand-drawn map in your hand was a relic from a raider you’d killed days ago—maybe weeks. Time had become meaningless, lost in the blur of surviving. All you could focus on was your destination: the Boston QZ.

The city loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette against the dull, gray sky. Its once-proud buildings, now hollowed-out husks, stood like tombstones marking the death of the world you once knew. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the chill creeping in as the wind picked up. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your pack digging into your shoulders, but you pushed forward, driven by the faint glimmer of hope that the QZ might offer something—anything—resembling stability.

But that was all it was now—just survival. There was a time, eight years ago, when your life had been so much more than that. You were barely 23, freshly graduated from med school, and engaged to the love of your life. Back then, your future had been bright, full of promise. You’d worked so hard, every hour spent studying, every sacrifice made, all to build a life you could be proud of. The career, the home, the family—you had it all mapped out.

And then the outbreak happened.

You hadn’t been prepared for how quickly it would all crumble. One day, you were planning a wedding, discussing where you’d go on your honeymoon. The next, the world had descended into chaos. The infection spread like wildfire, burning through cities, turning people into monsters. The man you’d planned to spend your life with—your future—was ripped away from you in a brutal instant. The infection didn’t even give you time to say goodbye. You could still hear his voice, sometimes, echoing in the back of your mind, telling you everything would be alright. But it wasn’t. It never would be again.

The ache of his loss never left you. It just dulled, becoming part of you, settling in the empty spaces where your future used to be. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the memory of his face, the way he used to make you laugh, the plans you had both dreamed of. You didn’t let yourself think about it too often—not anymore. It hurt too much. There was no room for that kind of pain in this world. It would swallow you whole if you let it.

Your hand instinctively tightened around the strap of your backpack, feeling the reassuring weight of the medical supplies inside—your last real bargaining chip. An assortment of drugs, benzos, antibiotics. Enough to trade for ration cards, enough to buy you time. You’d managed to hold onto them through every close call, every brush with the infected and the living threats alike. That was your edge, your way in.

As you approached the towering walls of the QZ, the scene before you was bleak. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their faces hard, their eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of weariness that came from years of seeing too much. People milled about, dirty, tired, hungry. You didn’t stand out. You were just one more lost soul looking for a way to survive.

A guard stepped forward, stopping you with a rifle slung across his chest. The scanner in his hand beeped to life as he raised it to your forehead. You stood still, barely breathing, until the small device let out a soft beep—green.

“Move along,” he muttered, not even sparing you a glance as he waved you through.

You stepped past the gate, feeling the weight of the city settle around you. Welcome to Boston.

•••

Your living space was barely more than a box. The apartment, if you could even call it that, was wedged in one of the many crumbling buildings in Area 4, packed with people like you—survivors, or at least, those trying to be. The building was a decaying relic of a forgotten world, its walls cracked and peeling, the floors groaning underfoot with every step, as if the weight of too many broken lives was pressing down on it.

Inside, the room was a suffocating, grim little square. A single cot was shoved against the wall, the mattress so thin it felt like you were lying on the floor itself. In one corner, a rusted sink dripped relentlessly, a slow, rhythmic reminder that time was passing—whether you wanted it to or not. Above it hung a small mirror, cracked down the center. You caught your reflection as you passed by, your braid fraying, dark circles hanging like shadows under your eyes. You barely recognized yourself anymore. That bright-eyed girl from eight years ago—freshly graduated, engaged, so full of hope—felt like a ghost haunting someone else’s life.

A small window, smudged and grimy, let in just enough gray light to remind you there was a world outside. But the view wasn’t much—just crumbling concrete and the ever-present silhouettes of soldiers patrolling below.

The few belongings you had were scattered on a makeshift shelf: an old, dog-eared Murakami novel, a half-melted candle, a crumpled photo of a past life. Everything here felt temporary, fleeting.

Under the poor excuse for a bed, you’d stashed your most valuable possession—your bag of medications and supplies. Hidden away, out of sight. In a place like this, trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

The Boston QZ felt like a prison. Every inch of it was crawling under the weight of control. Soldiers were everywhere—stoic, unflinching, rifles always at the ready, their eyes sweeping over the crowds with cold detachment.

You never went anywhere without feeling their gaze on you. They were always watching, waiting for someone to slip up. And when they did, the consequences were brutal. You’d seen it in your first few days—one wrong beep from a scanner, one foot out of line, and that was it. No second chances. No mercy. The executions were swift, cold, and left a weight in the air that lingered long after the bodies were gone.

Curfew was like a countdown to death. 6:00 PM to 6:00 AM. No exceptions. You’d watched as people scrambled to get indoors, their eyes darting nervously at the darkening sky, fear written in every step. No one wanted to test the military’s patience. You certainly didn’t.

For the first few weeks, you did what everyone else did—kept your head down, worked random jobs, and stayed in the shadows. The QZ was a labyrinth of desperation, everyone clawing for a foothold. The ration lines seemed to stretch forever, and the food was barely enough to keep people alive, let alone thriving.

But you quickly realized that wasn’t going to cut it. Not if you wanted more than just survival.

You spent your time observing, slipping through the cracks of the city, watching. Areas 1, 3, and 4 were heavily controlled, military checkpoints at every turn. But Area 5—that was different. It was a world unto itself, tucked away from the watchful eyes of FEDRA. The black market thrived here, an underground pulse of illicit trades and dangerous deals. People did what they had to. And you knew you’d have to do the same.

That was when you saw them.

You didn’t know their names yet, but you noticed how they moved through the market with a calm, quiet authority—like they owned it. The woman was tall, sharp-eyed, her voice low but commanding as she negotiated trades with surgical precision. She knew how to read people, how to get what she wanted without ever raising her voice.

The man was quieter, in his late 40s maybe, with a patchy beard of graying hair and hands that looked like they’d seen more than their fair share of rough work. He didn’t need to speak. His presence alone parted crowds, people stepping aside without a word, their eyes flicking nervously in his direction as if they knew better than to cross him.

You watched them for days, curiosity gnawing at you. Who were they? How had they carved out a space for themselves in this cutthroat world? They were always together, moving in sync, but their relationship was unclear. Partners? Lovers? Friends? You didn’t know—and for some reason, it bothered you that you couldn’t tell.

But one thing was certain: they weren’t just surviving. They were thriving. And if you wanted to last here, you needed to figure out how.

•••

The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets as the QZ slowly shifted from its harsh, daylight routine into something even darker. You stood by your window, watching the light fade, waiting for the right moment. The curfew would soon push everyone inside, and the soldiers would become more scarce. You’d been observing their patrols for days, mapping out the routes they took, the blind spots they didn’t bother covering. After all, Area 5 was its own beast, and even FEDRA seemed to know it wasn’t worth patrolling too heavily.

This wasn’t just a gamble—it was the result of days of careful planning. You had finally managed to set up your first trade, something you never would have attempted when you first arrived in the QZ. The world of smuggling and black-market dealings had been foreign to you then, a stark contrast to your life as a doctor. But now, with ration cards running low and survival becoming more desperate by the day, you had no choice but to adapt.

When the streets were finally cloaked in darkness, you grabbed the bag of benzos from under your bed. Your heart hammered in your chest as you slid the strap over your shoulder, casting a glance at the small mirror by the sink.

The alleyways were quieter now, the usual shuffle of desperate people retreating behind closed doors. The only sound was the distant hum of generators and the occasional clatter of boots on concrete. You took the path you’d memorized, the one that snaked through the backstreets where FEDRA never seemed to bother. Every step felt heavier than the last, your nerves gnawing at you. But you kept going.

The alley where the trade would go down was just ahead. Dark and narrow, it was tucked between two abandoned buildings, far from the reach of the patrols. You’d seen it used before—traders slipping in and out, never lingering too long. It seemed perfect for what you needed, but still, the unease in your stomach hadn’t left.

You arrived first, of course. You leaned against the damp brick wall, the weight of the bag heavy against your side as you waited. Your breath was shallow, hands slightly trembling as you clutched the strap tighter. You tried to shake it off. You’d seen others make trades here—dangerous deals, sure, but ones that had paid off.

But as the minutes ticked by, the unease twisted deeper.

He was late.

The alley was darker than you expected, shadows swallowing everything except the faint glow of the streetlight far at the entrance. When he finally appeared, slithering out of the shadows, his grin was wide and crooked, eyes gleaming with something you didn’t like.

“Well, if I knew my trader was such a fine young thing, I would've dressed up for the occasion,” he drawled, his voice dripping with false charm.

Your stomach twisted, regret settling in like a heavy stone. This was a mistake.

You steeled yourself, jaw tight, and handed him the bag. “I’ve got your stuff.”

His smirk deepened as he took it from you, the way his eyes lingered making your skin crawl. “Relax, darlin’. Doesn’t have to be all business,” he murmured, stepping closer, his fingers brushing your arm.

Your blood ran cold. His hand lingered too long, his body closing the space between you, and you felt panic surge. You’d faced the infected, raiders, betrayal—but men like him were something worse. They looked at you like you were nothing but an opportunity. Your heart raced, but your feet stayed frozen, rooted to the ground by fear.

And then, a voice cut through the dark.

“Let her go.”

The voice was low, steady, with a hint of an accent—something southern, but rough around the edges. It sent a chill down your spine.

The thug stiffened, his smirk fading as he glanced over your shoulder. You turned slowly, and there he was—the man you’d been watching for weeks. Tall, broad-shouldered, his eyes cold and sharp as steel. The weight of his presence was enough to make the trader in front of you hesitate.

“This isn’t your business, man,” the thug sneered, though there was a crack of fear in his voice.

The man took a step forward, his hand resting casually on the gun at his hip. “It is now.”

The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible. The thug wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was outmatched. With a frustrated growl, he tossed the bag of benzos at your feet and slunk back into the shadows.

You stood there, heart pounding, too shocked to even say thank you. The man stepped forward, his eyes flicking down at the bag before meeting yours. His gaze was piercing, and you felt like he could see right through you—like he knew exactly who you were and everything you’d been through.

“Next time,” he said quietly, his voice steady, “watch who you deal with.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, as easily as he had arrived.

You stood there, shaken to your core, but with one thing clear in your mind: your world had just collided with his.

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