#you need to leave your basement and take a long walk outside if you truly believe

[morose-melodies]

i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

[sage-nebula]

You know that one post that's like, "fandom invents a personality for a character and then gets mad when canon doesn't match their headcanon"? That's literally the situation with Lanolin right now lmao. Sonic Fandumb stays ridiculous, I guess.

[wren-of-the-woods]

your gaze lights the fire

When a close encounter with Rience leaves Jaskier in desperate need of somewhere safe, he goes to the only person he knows will take him in: the prince he swore he’d never see again. Jaskier/Radovid, 5k, rated T. No spoilers for volume 2. Also on AO3!

Jaskier thinks he made his expectations very clear on that wonderful night in the shed with Radovid. 

“If we do this,” he’d said between gasps as Radovid nibbled on his ear, “It can only be for tonight.”

Radovid made a displeased noise against his throat.

“I know,” said Jaskier. “I know, but we can’t. We’re on opposite sides. I can’t give you Ciri, and you can’t see me without endangering her or yourself.”

“I’m already in danger,” said Radovid. He had risen back to be level with Jaskier’s face, and Jaskier could feel the warmth of his breath on his own lips. “We both are.”

“I know,” said Jaskier, “But you know this would make it worse. We can’t do that. I can’t. This can only be tonight.”

“Fine,” Radovid said, “Only tonight.”

That had been that. The night was lovely, even more so than expected, and before dawn Radovid was gone. It was what Jaskier had told him to do. It was what Jaskier said he wanted. 

What a fucking liar he is. 

It isn’t his fault, he likes to think, that he’s turning up on Radovid’s metaphorical doorstep in the middle of the night, drenched by the pouring rain and probably looking rather like a bedraggled rat. He truly had intended to stay away from Radovid, just like he said he would, but when his peaceful evening turns into a nightmare of fire and flame while his magical family is off saving the world, he has little choice but to bolt into the rain and head straight for the only safe haven he can think of. 

“What is your business here?” asks the guard outside the palace. 

“I’m here to see the prince,” says Jaskier. “Radovid. Tell him it’s Jaskier. He’ll know me.”

The guard looks rather doubtful, but shouts the message to someone inside the palace who Jaskier cannot see. He does not let Jaskier step out of the rain as they wait. 

A long, cold few minutes pass as they wait for the messenger’s return. Jaskier is just beginning to consider calling it a loss and fleeing to find some basement or barrel to hide in when the door is flung open, not by a messenger, but by Prince Radovid himself. 

The prince is rather disheveled. He had probably been preparing for bed, if not asleep already. His eyes go wide when he sees Jaskier standing in the mud. 

“Jaskier!” he cries. He goes to step forward, realizes it’s pouring rain, and wisely decides to simply give Jaskier a look that is equal parts bewilderment and concern.

“Can I come in?” asks Jaskier. He tries to make it sound wry, but he thinks it just comes out exhausted. 

“Oh! Yes, of course. Come in.” Radovid steps away from the doorway to let Jaskier in, calling to some servant to bring fresh clothes to Radovid’s room. Jaskier cannot even bring himself to be amused by what the servant must think of this order; he is too busy shivering and trying to keep his feet under him. 

“Follow me,” says Radovid, and Jaskier trails after him without question as they walk through corridors and up stairs. He tries not to drip on the fancy wooden flooring too much. He fails. 

After what feels like ages to Jaskier’s addled mind, but is probably only a few moments, Radovid pushes open a door. Jaskier stumbles into the room without hesitation. He knows it’s stupid not to consider the potential danger, but he’s too entranced by the warm light he can see coming through the doorway to care. 

The room is large and covered in furs. Rich red curtains cover the large windows. In one corner is a four-poster bed, complete with a canopy and curtains. Jaskier realizes belatedly that this is probably Radovid’s bedroom. 

Radovid drags an armchair over to the fire, which has burned down to embers, and gestures for Jaskier to sit. Jaskier feels a little bad for ruining the upholstery with the mud covering his clothing, but not bad enough not to obey. He extends his hands towards the warmth of the coals.

“I’m having a bath sent up,” says Radovid. “It should be here soon.”

“Thank you,” says Jaskier quietly. He should probably be more effusive, but he can’t quite manage it. 

For a moment, awkward silence descends upon the room. 

“Why— what are you doing here?” asks Radovid. He’s obviously been fighting the urge to ask ever since he first saw Jaskier, and Jaskier appreciates that he waited until now. 

Jaskier swallows. He takes a deep breath. He lets it out. 

“I’m asking for asylum, I suppose,” he says. “I’d like to stay here for a few days. I need somewhere safe.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier sees Radovid take a step towards him. “What happened?”

“Rience found me,” he murmurs. “He— well, let’s just say I needed to make a speedy exit.”

Jaskier finally tears his gaze away from the coals, looking up to meet Radovid’s eyes. 

“I can’t give you anything. I can’t give you Ciri. I probably can’t even stay here, because if your spymaster gets wind of my presence I’m fucked, but… Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri are off doing important things who-knows-where, and Rience is after me.”

Jaskier suddenly cannot bear to see the unreadable expression on Radovid’s face, full of feeling. He looks away as he finishes.

“I’m sorry. I know I said we shouldn’t see each other again. I don’t have any incentive to make you let me stay. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

He glances up at Radovid again. The prince swallows. 

“You don’t need an incentive,” he says quietly. His voice is full of unnamable feeling. Jaskier shudders. 

Radovid takes another step forward. “You’re shivering. I’ll build up the fire—”

“No!” cries Jaskier, rising halfway up out of his chair. 

Radovid stops and looks at Jaskier. His brows are furrowed in what is obviously concern. 

“You’re drenched. You must be freezing. You need to get warm, Jaskier.”

“Not the fire. I—” Jaskier swallows. “The bath will warm me up enough.”

Radovid studies him for a long moment, then nods. “If you’re sure.”

Jaskier lets out a shuddering sigh of relief and sinks back down into the chair. “Thank you.”

For several long moments, there is silence. It is just beginning to become deeply awkward when servants blessedly arrive with water for the bath. 

Radovid quickly moves to direct them through a door that apparently leads to a large bathroom, leaving Jaskier free to sit until they were gone. When everything is ready, he leads Jaskier to the tub, points out the locations of the various soaps and towels, and then politely leaves the room. 

Jaskier makes quick work of removing his clothes and clambering into the tub. The water is so hot that it stings against his chilled skin at first, but as he warms, it becomes heavenly. He is sorely tempted to lounge there until the water goes cold, but he is also acutely aware of the facts that he is filthy and that he is a guest in a place that he is not entirely sure is safe. Reluctantly, he takes the nicest-smelling soap and washes himself. 

By the time he clambers out of the tub, the water is halfway to being mud and he feels worlds better. He dries himself with the fluffiest towel he has ever had the pleasure of encountering and wraps it around his waist when he is done. As much as he would like to have something between himself and the rather chilly air — and the eyes of any servant or friend who might think to visit the prince’s bedchamber, or even the knowing gaze of the prince himself — he is loathe to touch his muddy clothes again if he doesn’t have to. 

He pokes his head back into the bedroom and sees Radovid sitting in the chair Jaskier had occupied earlier, staring at the coals. He looks up the moment Jaskier steps, barefoot, into the room.

“You’re finished?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

“Did you find everything you needed?”

Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then decides there’s no harm in asking. “Um, actually, do you have a robe or something that I could borrow? My clothes are filthy.”

“Oh! Of course.” 

Radovid quickly stands and goes to rifle through what might be the largest closet Jaskier has ever seen. If he weren’t so tired, he might be jealous. Any negative feelings he might have had vanish when Radovid turns and offers him the warmest-looking fur robe Jaskier has ever seen. He shrugs into it without hesitation, keeping the towel around his waist, and sighs happily at the softness of the fabric 

He looks up to see Radovid looking at him with a small smile. The prince turns away hurriedly when he sees Jaskier looking. Jaskier is suddenly very aware of the fact that he is wearing Radovid’s clothes. 

“I can have your clothes washed,” Radovid offers. “They could be done by tomorrow.”

Jaskier hesitates again. It’s a risk, he knows, to agree to this offer; it puts him more deeply in Radovid’s debt, and it would mean running the risk of having what might now be his only clothes lost or recognized as his by a certain spymaster’s agents. But he is already at risk. He wants his clothes to be clean. The earnestness in Radovid’s gaze, the apparently honest desire to help, is very difficult to refuse. 

“All right,” he says. 

Radovid nods, goes to get the clothes, and vanishes into the hall for a moment, presumably in search of a servant. He returns a few minutes later without the clothes and with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He pours one for himself and hands the other to Jaskier. 

Jaskier takes a small sip of his wine. Radovid does the same. For a moment, there is silence.

“So,” says Jaskier, “What happens now?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” says Radovid. “This is not a situation I’ve encountered before.”

Jaskier smiles halfheartedly. “I thought your time at court wasn’t staid.”

“It isn’t, but this is more adventure than even I am used to.”

“I suppose that’s fair. I don’t imagine there are many other bedraggled bards popping up in your chambers.”

Radovid chuckles a little, then sobers. “I can get you a room. I’m sure we have one empty.”

Jaskier thinks about that for a moment, then grimaces. “That would draw even more attention than I already have. I’d rather keep my presence as a guest unofficial, for now.” He sighs. “Is there a stable or something I can sleep in?”

Radovid balks at that. “You can’t sleep in the cold. You’ve already been wet enough for one evening.”

Jaskier frowns a little, rather taken aback by Radovid’s earnestness. “It would be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“You shouldn’t have had to put up with worse,” says Radovid. Jaskier opens his mouth to argue further, but Radovid holds up a hand to silence him. “I’d never forgive myself if you became ill when I could have prevented it. Please, stay.”

Jaskier considers this for a moment. He wouldn’t particularly mind sleeping in Radovid’s room. It would be awkward, certainly, but it’s a very nice room.

“I can sleep on your floor,” he suggests.

Radovid does not look particularly happy with this, either. “I don’t want to make you do that.”

“It’s a very nice floor.” It is: it’s got a thick rug and everything. It is very soft against Jaskier’s bare feet.

“You need the bed more than I do.”

It’s Jaskier’s turn to balk. “I’m not making you give up your bed. You’re my host. And also the prince of Redenia. I’d probably be beheaded for treason, or something.”

“No one would know. I can find another room for the night, if you want.”

“I can’t make you do that.” Jaskier is already deep in Radovid’s debt, and besides, there is a deep part of him that does not want to be the reason for the prince’s discomfort. 

They stare at each other for a moment, at an impasse. Even in the palace, the barely-glowing coals mean that the night air is chill against Jaskier’s face. The robe is lovely, but slightly too small to close completely at the front. Goosebumps begin to prickle on his arms.

“You’re cold,” says Radovid softly. “Please. If you won’t take the bed, would you at least let me build up the fire?”

Jaskier closes his eyes and tries to steady his shaky breathing. 

“I— no. Not tonight. I can’t.” 

Despite his best efforts, his voice cracks a little on the last word. He decides to blame his exhaustion, not the intensity of the emotions roiling in his chest, for the mistake.

Jaskier opens his eyes. Radovid looks like he’s going to argue further. Jaskier knows he should stand firm, but he is tired. He is starting to shake a little in the aftermath of the terror and adrenaline of the evening, not to mention his current feelings of uncertainty and hope and other emotions he would rather not name. He is wanting, and he is weak. He takes a leap of faith. 

“We could share the bed,” he says. “I wouldn’t be cold. No one would have to sleep on the floor. It’s a win-win situation.”

Radovid pauses. He studies Jaskier consideringly for a very long moment.

“In the shed,” he says, “You said we could only be together for that night.”

Jaskier swallows. “I did.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“I don’t know.”

Radovid is still studying him intently. Jaskier rubs his thumb along the pads of his fingers. 

“I didn’t intend to come back. I meant to keep my word,” Jaskier murmurs. “Tonight is about necessity.”

“And tomorrow?” 

Jaskier meets his eyes. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Radovid considers him for another long moment, then nods. “I suppose we will.”

Wordlessly, he gestures at the bed. Jaskier walks over to it and, after only a moment’s hesitation, slides under the covers without removing the robe. He settles on his back, looking up at the red canopy above the bed. The sheets are cool and soft and the furs are softer still. 

He looks up in time to see Radovid taking off his vest and shirt, putting them back in the closet. He keeps his trousers, for which Jaskier is startlingly grateful. After the day he’s had, he is neither physically nor emotionally prepared for anything more than sleep. 

Radovid climbs into the bed beside him, taking the space Jaskier carefully left unoccupied. His caution was hardly necessary, it turns out; this bed is absurdly large. Jaskier supposes it is one of the many benefits of princehood. 

“At the risk of sounding stubborn,” says Radovid quietly, “I really do think we should build up the fire. It’s cold out.”

“And at the risk of sounding repetitive,” Jaskier says, “I would really rather not.”

Radovid is silent. With a sigh, Jaskier rolls over to face him. 

“You want to know why,” he says. 

It isn’t really a question, but Radovid answers it anyway. “I admit to being curious.”

Jaskier sighs deeply, sits up, and starts to climb out of the bed, thinking that he would rather have this conversation standing on the cool floor than here in the strange vulnerability that is found in Radovid’s bed. 

“Wait, where are you going?” says Radovid. He sits up a little, reaches out, and—

Seizes Jaskier’s hand. 

His hand is held firm. The grip on his fingers is tight. He cannot pull away.

His heart pounds. His fingers are warm— burning. He can feel the flames. His breathing speeds up until he’s panting, struggling for air, helpless little whines leaving his throat with each breath without permission. 

He cannot escape. There’s no point in even trying, no point in attempting to avoid the flames he can see coming for him, flickering before his eyes. They are the flames from that very evening that roared as the inn was invaded, burning as he fled helplessly into the twilight, and also those from that horrible night that was over a year ago now, the night that he still wonders if he truly escaped. His ribs hurt— his lungs hurt— he cannot breathe and he cannot escape and he is burning and—

“Jaskier!” shouts a voice that does not belong to Rience.

The grip on his fingers is gone. Instead, there are hands on his shoulder and his cheek. The touch is firm and a little desperate, nothing like the horrid false gentleness of Rience’s caress. Jaskier manages to open eyes he hadn’t realized had been squeezed shut and there in front of him, eyes almost wild with concern, is Radovid. 

Jaskier is sitting on the bed. Radovid is kneeling in front of him. The prince’s hands are still on him. The furs are soft against Jaskier’s knees, but the wood of the headboard is cold and hard and all too familiar against his back. Jaskier jolts forward to get away from it and nearly shoves Radovid in the process. 

Radovid’s other hand goes to Jaskier’s arm, steadying him. Jaskier lets himself slump against Radovid, his forehead landing on the prince’s shoulder. He realizes he is shaking. 

“Shit,” Jaskier says into his the space above his collarbone. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Jaskier?” says Radovid, hesitant. Jaskier can feel him open his mouth, close it, then swallow. “How can I help?”

And Jaskier should not ask it — he swore it was only one night, showing such vulnerability to someone so close to Dijkstra is deeply unwise — but he is too far gone to care. 

“Hold me?” he whispers, and he can feel it when Radovid sucks in a shuddering breath in response.

Radovid shifts closer, moves one of his hands to the space just below Jaskier’s shoulderblades, and uses it to pull him close. Jaskier goes unhesitatingly, letting Radovid guide him until one of the prince’s arms is around his shoulders and the other is rubbing gently up and down his back. Jaskier’s head still rests on Radovid’s shoulder; he inhales deeply, breathing in what must be the scent of the prince’s soap. He can feel Radovid’s chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. Gradually, his own breathing slows to match it.

“Thank you,” Jaskier murmurs, after a while. “I— I’m sorry about that.”

Jaskier should be past this, he sometimes thinks. It’s been a year since that terrible night, and he isn’t alone anymore. He has enough powerful friends that, even if Rience did catch him again, he has a decent chance of being rescued before anything bad can happen. Even if he doesn’t, even if he is still in danger, this irrational panic and these fucking flashbacks are not helpful. 

But his heart and mind don’t seem to have got the message, and all he can do is cling tighter to the prince he swore he’d never see again and breathe. 

“Don’t apologize,” says Radovid. 

For a long moment, they stay there in silence. Jaskier breathes. Slowly, his heartbeat begins to return to something resembling normality.

Radovid is the first one to speak. He is hesitant and soft, as though afraid breaking the silence might somehow break Jaskier. Jaskier isn’t quite sure if he feels miffed or grateful.

“Can I ask what happened?” says Radovid.

Jaskier huffs a barely-there laugh into Radovid’s collarbone, still not able to make himself pull away. “I suppose I can answer two of your questions at once, now.”

“What?”

“That happened for the same reason that I don’t want a fire.”

Jaskier can feel Radovid go very, very still. “Oh.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath. 

“About a year ago,” he begins, “I met Rience. He was looking for Ciri. Apparently, it’s easier to find a bard singing about heartbreak than it is to find a witcher or a princess on the run. He asked me to tell him where they were. He… was not particularly polite when I refused.” 

“Oh,” says Radovid again, a little shaky. He had made an interested sound when Jaskier mentioned Rience’s name, but his curiosity seems to have given way to sympathetic horror.

“He tortured me,” Jaskier says in a rush, before he can lose his nerve. “Tied me to a chair and beat me and threatened me for hours. Broke my lute, too. At the end, when I still wouldn’t talk, he— uh— he started to burn my hands. My fingers, really. I got rescued before he could do any permanent damage, but he got close.” Jaskier swallows/shudders. “Very close.”

Radovid’s arms tighten around Jaskier until Jaskier isn’t quite sure which of them is clinging to the other. He closes his eyes, letting the feeling tether him to the world around him.

“I don’t do so well with fire, after that,” he murmurs. “Or having my hands grabbed. Or chairs, sometimes.”

“Jaskier,” says Radovid, helpless and pained. Jaskier holds him tighter. 

“I’d rather word of this didn’t get out, by the way,” he says after a long moment. “I don’t particularly want that soot on my reputation.”

“Jaskier, you withstood torture for the sake of the very friend who’d given you reason to write Burn Butcher Burn. That bravery would be the farthest thing from a blemish on your reputation.”

Jaskier could not help a small smile at the earnestness in Radovid’s voice. 

“Perhaps,” he says, “But I find that life is easier if bravery is not a word associated with my name. A foolish bard can get away with much more than a cunning one, sometimes. I think you, of all people, understand that.”

“I do,” says Radovid. Jaskier fancies he can hear the small smile in Radovid’s voice when he adds, “You wear your mask well.”

“So do you.” Jaskier pauses for a moment, then smirks. “Although, I think you’d look damn good no matter what you wore.”

Radovid laughs a little at that. For a while, they are silent. 

“He came back for you tonight,” Radovid says after a long moment, as though he’s only just remembered. “Rience. That’s who you were running from. He found you.”

“He did,” Jaskier says. He thinks he does a good job of keeping his voice steady despite the leftover panic that tries to clamber up his throat.

“Fuck,” says Radovid, and despite the situation, Jaskier manages to be a little amused at having driven the prince to utter the first profanity Jaskier has heard from his lips. “Are you all right?”

“I’m uninjured, I promise,” says Jaskier. He fiddles with the edge of his robe with one hand. “I’m very good at running.”

“He won’t get to you again,” says Radovid. Jaskier is not entirely sure if he’s trying to reassure Jaskier or himself. “One of us will find him — Redenia, or your witcher, or someone else — and we’ll get rid of him. You’ll be safe.”

Jaskier does not know if he believes him. He is grateful anyway. “Thank you.”

He can feel Radovid’s chest fall as he lets out a long sigh. It’s only a little shaky. 

“We should sleep,” Radovid says after another long moment of silence. “You’re exhausted.”

“Probably,” says Jaskier reluctantly. He is loathe to leave his comfortable position in Radovid’s arms, but he knows that Radovid is right. 

Slowly, they untangle themselves from each other. Jaskier climbs back under the covers, taking the same place he occupied before, lying on his back and staring at the canopy. Radovid waits until he is settled before getting into the bed beside him. 

For a long while, there is silence. Jaskier cannot bring himself to close his eyes. His chest still feels too tight, his heart too fast. He knows that Radovid is still awake beside him; his breathing has not slowed. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jaskier asks eventually, unable to bear the silence any longer.

“I’m thinking that I wish you could stay,” murmurs Radovid, earnest and soft. 

Jaskier closes his eyes for a moment. If he doesn’t, he suspects he will feel the prickling of tears before long.

“So do I,” he says, and he is past the point of caring that there is far too much honesty in his voice. “But I can’t. Not for long.”

“I know. It’s not safe.”

Jaskier frowns. He opens his eyes and rolls onto his side, so that he can see Radovid’s face. The prince is already on his side, looking directly at Jaskier. His expression is troubled.

“You once made a whole speech about how safe Redenia would be for Ciri,” says Jaskier. It isn’t really a question, but he thinks it will do. 

“Times change. I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“Dijkstra murdered my brother’s wife and told me I could be next.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “That’d do it.”

Radovid smiles. It is obviously halfhearted. Jaskier reaches across the space between them and rests a hand on Radovid’s where it lies on a pillow.

“Are you safe?” he asks.

“I think so. As safe as I can be.” Radovid pauses. He turns his hand so he can, slowly and with great gentleness, lace his fingers with Jaskier’s. “Safer than you are most of the time, probably.”

Jaskier huffs a small laugh. “Probably. I’m very good at getting into trouble.”

“It makes for good songs.”

Jaskier squeezes Radovid’s hand. Usually, he would say something cocky or make a joke at that, but tonight he has no desire for little lies. “I’m glad you think so.”

Radovid smiles. It is small, but this time it is real. The sight warms Jaskier’s heart. He realizes, suddenly, that he cannot bear the thought of this man being hurt.

He shouldn’t say it. It’s a risk. He should keep his secret, on the off chance that he’s ever able to resume his work as the Sandpiper, and leave the future to its own devices, but he doesn’t know if it will matter. Philippa and Dijkstra probably know all the Sandpiper’s secrets, anyway. And, most importantly, Radovid might need him. 

“If you ever need to get out of here,” he says slowly, “Go to the tavern by the docks at Oxenfurt and tell the owner you need the Sandpiper. She can contact me, and she should know of several safehouses where you can hide. We can make you disappear.”

Radovid looks at him for a long, long moment. 

“You’re incredible,” he says. “Have I mentioned that?”

Jaskier gets a lot of praise. He has a lot of fans. None of it has prepared him for how it feels to be complimented, so genuinely and so unexpectedly, by someone like Radovid.

He swallows. It would probably be wise to stop talking — to keep up the pretense of this interaction being solely the product of necessity — but Jaskier has never been wise.

“Why the fuck aren’t we cuddling right now?” he asks. It startles a laugh out of Radovid. 

“I truly have no idea,” he says, and suddenly they are moving. 

There is a long moment of confused rearranging involving a few near misses when elbows get perilously close to stomachs. At one point, Jaskier tries to get Radovid to rest his head on his chest while Radovid is simultaneously trying to tuck Jaskier up against his side. Eventually Radovid puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder to still him.

“You’re the one who almost died tonight,” he says. “Let me hold you.”

Jaskier likes the sound of that, and he cannot argue with the earnestness in Radovid’s voice. He lets himself be rolled over so that his back is to the prince, and the tenderness of Radovid’s hands helps to chase away the ghost of Rience’s touch on his skin. 

Radovid presses up against Jaskier’s back. He tangles his legs with Jaskier’s and, gently, puts his arm over him so his palm rests over Jaskier’s heart. Jaskier can feel his chest rising and falling against his back and the warmth of his breath on the nape of his neck. He has to work to keep from shuddering.

“Is this all right?” Radovid asks, and Jaskier is startled for a moment that Radovid does not realize just how perfect it is.

“Yes,” says Jaskier. He presses back against Radovid to make his point, despite the impossibility of getting any closer to the prince, and puts his hand on Radovid’s arm. Radovid holds him tighter, and when he smiles, Jaskier can feel the movement of his face against the back of his neck.

They lapse into silence, but unlike before, it is not unbearable. Jaskier can hear and feel every breath that Radovid takes, and his touch, somehow both comfortingly familiar and beautifully new, keeps Jaskier grounded in the present. He is not with Rience. He is not in immediate danger. He is not alone. 

Jaskier does not fall asleep yet, but neither does he panic. He is, for once, content to simply be here, to enjoy this moment safe in the arms of the man for whom his feelings run deeper than he would ever have expected. He feels the beginnings of a song stirring in the back of his mind and follows the threads, weaving together a melody. Softly, he begins to hum.

“What song is that?” asks Radovid. His voice is soft, as though he is afraid the moment will break if he speaks too loudly. 

“I’m not sure yet,” murmurs Jaskier, matching his volume. “I’m composing.”

“Oh,” says Radovid. The sound is almost reverent. It makes something achingly warm and tender curl around Jaskier’s heart. 

“I think,” he says slowly, “That the song is about how fire is not always necessary.”

Radovid makes a curious sound against Jaskier’s neck. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” says Jaskier. “Not with you here.”

“Oh,” says Radovid again, rather wetly. It sounds as though he might be close to tears, and Jaskier can hardly believe that such a lovely man lets Jaskier’s words have this power over him. Radovid presses his forehead against Jaskier’s shoulder and clings to him. 

After a moment, Radovid takes a deep breath. Jaskier rather thinks it sounds like he is bracing himself. He listens curiously.

“I thought,” says Radovid slowly, “That you’d had enough of singing unspoken words of love.”

Radovid’s voice is very deliberate when he says the word love. Jaskier knows what Radovid is asking; he knows what word he is being given the opportunity to deny.

“You inspire me, I suppose,” he says. He does not deny it.

“I’m glad,” says Radovid, and the sincerity in his voice almost takes Jaskier’s breath away.

“I don’t think this is about necessity anymore,” he says, and it sounds like a confession. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that. I’m glad I came here tonight.”

“So am I,” says Radovid. 

Jaskier laughs a little. “Even though I interrupted your peaceful night’s sleep?”

“You could never be an interruption, Jaskier.”

Even Jaskier cannot find the words to respond to that, at first, so he puts his hand on Radovid’s forearm and holds tight, hoping that Radovid can guess at the multitude of tender feelings curled around his heart. 

“Neither could you,” he manages to say after a moment. 

Softly, so tenderly that Jaskier’s spine tingles, Radovid presses a kiss to the back of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier sighs, shuddering a little, and presses into the touch.

“Sleep,” Radovid whispers. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

And, when Jaskier drifts into dreamless slumber in Radovid’s arms, he is warm.

[a-dirty-secret]

Johnny's Girl - Part 14

There's a bit of fluff but no smut in this chapter, just some suggestive stuff. Wanted to give the smut a break. I'd be ok with having it in every chapter, but I'm not sure how others feel about that. I can only change the language up so much. 😂

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex

After finally peeling yourselves away from each other you asked Johnny for a shower. He agreed, insisting that you'd need company, and you happily accepted. There was no hot water by the time you were done.

After your shower you decided to push your luck, asking Johnny to take you outside for some fresh air. It was late, but he agreed. He wasn't tired, and at that moment he wanted little more than to be close to you.

You took in a deep breath, basking in the warm Texas air. Your prolonged time in the basement made everything outside feel much sharper. The stars felt brighter, the air smelled fresher, and the crickets sounded louder. You wondered how well you'd be able to handle sunlight after being in the dimly lit basement for so long.

You stood there, staring at the starts, lost in your thoughts. You didn't notice how Johnny was staring at you, mesmerized by how beautiful you looked in the starlight. Just looking at you evoked emotions he'd never felt before, emotions he thought somebody like him was incapable of feeling. Is this really weakness?

You look over at Johnny and smile when you notice his eyes are already on you. "So, do I still have to stay in the basement?" You ask, grinning.

"Well that depends, are you gonna try to leave again?" He spoke the words lightly, not wanting you to see what he truly wanted to ask. Were you going to leave him?

"If I was planning on leaving, do you think I would tell you?" You tease, but notice Johnny isn't amused.

"Look, I wanna start givin' you some freedom around here. I don't want you to feel like a prisoner anymore, but I can't just let you walk outta here." He says tightly.

Despite his tone, you sense more discomfort than anger. You position yourself in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. You press a soft kiss to his lips, then another just below his ear. "I guess you'll just have to keep a really, really close eye on me." You whisper.

"Mmm... I think I can manage that." You step away and turn around, pressing your back against him and looking back up at the stars. Johnny sighs and wraps his arms around you tightly. "Tomorrow you can start helpin' out around here. Cookin' and cleanin'. Sissy is gonna be beside herself." He says the last part with a bit of irritation and you giggle.

"How do you think everybody is gonna react to having me around? I'm a bit nervous."

"Well Sissy already likes you, and Drayton doesn't like anybody. You'll get along with Nubbins just fine, and big boy ain't bad to be around."

"And... Your mom?" You ask nervously.

Johnny hesitates. "She'll just have to get used to you, that's all."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or you?"

He laughs and gives you a squeeze, "Both, I guess. You don't have anything to worry about. As long as you're here, I'm gonna take care of you. I promise." He runs a hand down your stomach and below your shirt, rubbing the letters he'd left on your skin. "How's it healing?"

"It itches like hell, but it's healing fine. I kind of like having your name on my skin." You say, placing your hand over his.

"Oh really?" He says, sliding both his and your hands beneath your shorts and panties. He rubs your clit gently, and the feeling of his hand under yours as he touches you drives you wild. You moan softly, the feeling of him growing hard on your ass making you want to feel him inside of you, despite already being sore.

"C'mon darlin', I'm gonna fuck you to sleep." He says, removing his hand and leading you to his bedroom.

*** Johnny was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to finish getting dressed. "C'mon, we're gonna be late for breakfast." He says, irritated.

"Don't get an attitude with me, you're the one that started grinding your hard on against me."

He smirks as you walk to the doorway. "I just couldn't resist." He says, smacking your ass as you walk out of the bedroom. You make your way to the dining room to find that breakfast had already started.

Drayton sees you and narrows his eyes. "What the hell're you doin', boy? Didn't your mama tell you to take care of her?"

"She's stayin'. She can help out around the house, cookin' and cleanin'. Sissy's been complaining about needin' help around here for a while, and you're always bitchin' about how dirty the house is." Johnny says firmly.

"Oh, how excitin'! I just knew you'd come around, Johnny! It's gonna be so nice havin' another woman around the house!" Sissy chimes in excitedly.

"Ooooh! J-J-Johnny's letting his g-girlfriend stay!" Nubbins shouts, earning a happy grunt from Bubba and a sneer from Johnny.

"Your mama's gonna tan your hide when she gets back! I oughta take care of her myself!" Drayton shouts, standing up and taking a step towards you.

With no hesitation Johnny's in front of him, hands balled into fists. "If you so much as THINK of layin' a hand on her, I'll make sure you don't have a hand to use." He growls.

"What's gotten into you, boy? You're gonna let some floozy come between the family?" Drayton responds.

"She ain't comin' between the family, she's gonna be helpin' us out. You're the only one opposed, old man, you're outnumbered." Johnny says, stepping back and taking his seat at the table, you do the same.

Drayton huffs and sits back down. "She'd better make herself useful 'round here!" He shouts, returning to his breakfast.

After the meal Johnny and Drayton left for the gas station, leaving you with Sissy. She showed you around the house, telling you where to find everything. You made a mental note to ask Johnny about getting some more cleaning supplies, this house could use a good scrubbing.

The rest of the day passed quickly. It felt good to be moving around again, and to have something to occupy your time. Sissy kept a close eye on you, though she tried not to be too obvious about it. Nubbins and Bubba kept to themselves, you hadn't seen them again after breakfast.

Now you were in the kitchen, listening to Sissy talk as you prepare dinner together. So far you've gathered that she was in various cults before she came back here. You asked what made her return, but she just gave you a sad smile, saying she prefers to think about positive things.

"So you don't like it here?" You ask.

"Oh it ain't that I don't like it, I just get lonely sometimes. That's why I'm so glad Johnny's lettin' you stay! Come on sugar, let's go set the table."

As you're setting the table you hear the front door open, and Johnny soon enters the dining room. You lock eyes and he smiles, letting you know without speaking that he's happy to see you. You smile as he passes you to go to his seat, being sure to nonchalantly rub against you when he did so. You couldn't wait for dinner to be over so you could have some alone time together.

After everybody finishes eating you get to work on the dishes while Sissy goes outside to get the laundry off the line. You hear Johnny's footsteps behind you and soon feel his arms wrap around you. "Come out back when you get done." He says, planting a kiss on your neck before walking away.

You finish the dishes hurriedly then make your way out the back door. You go through a gate and follow a path by the sunflowers, finding Johnny leaning against one of the old cars, smoking a cigarette. You stand beside him and he puts an arm around your waist, pulling you to close to his side.

"Well, how was your day, darlin'? You miss the basement?" He says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You laugh, "I didn't miss the basement, but I missed you." You say, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah... Had you on my mind all day." The words felt awkward for him. He wasn't used to being open about his emotions, but with you he wanted to be. He sighs, thinking about what his mom is going to say. She's going to say he's soft, say you're making him weak.

"What are you thinking about?" You ask, sensing that something's on his mind. Johnny tenses, and you can tell that he's uncomfortable. "You can tell me anything, you know. You don't have to, but you can." You say, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He hesitates, thinking of what to say. "I've been slackin' around here since you came around. My mama always told me family comes first, everything else is a distraction. I'm meant for killin', it's what she raised me to do. She's not gonna be happy about us. She's gonna say you're makin' me weak, and part of me wonders if it's true." It felt odd opening up this way, but also relieving.

"You're allowed to have a life outside of your family, it doesn't mean you're any less committed to them, it just means you're also committed to yourself. She raised you to kill, but you're still human. Humans have emotions, they fall in love. That doesn't make you weak, Johnny."

After that you stand in silence, watching the sunset in each other's arms.

[dokifluffs]

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female) 

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose​ 🖤

“Y/N,” a husky voice spoke your name, pulling you from your much needed rest as life of being a new mother had been challenging though so far, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle

“Y/N, darling.”

You groaned in your sleep, not wanting to wake, to leave the warmth that you were so comfortable laying in

The edge of the bed shifted as a weight sat down beside you, making your body move toward the person

You brought yourself to open your eyes as heavy as they were, your vision clearing to find your husband sat beside you, his mask pulled down to his chin

The room was gloomy and gray though the curtains were open, not a bit of sunlight shining through as he looked down to you with gentle eyes

Despite his softer side with you, he was still the head of the clan - and his appearance matched him as well

He donned a black wool overcoat with the same colored turtleneck and mask

“What is it, Omi?” You asked sleepily as he cupped your cheek with his black gloved hand

His black gloves were always an accessory he had on him, whether he was wearing them or not

He had a thing with germs but he also saw no need to get his hands dirty when his men were always there to do the job for him

You nuzzled your face into his touch, very tempted to fall asleep holding him close but as your mind woke up more and more, you remembered what today was

What he had to do, where he had to go

“I’m leaving soon.. I’ll be back in a few days..” he whispered as he moved a strand of your hair from your face

You wanted to pretend you didn’t hear these words, that he never told you he had to leave or when he did

A part of you wished he left without telling you but an even greater part was so grateful that he woke you

“Do you really have to go again?” You squeezed his gloved hand as you sat yourself up straighter

“You know how my father is... He wants to make sure things are... under control.. I promise I’ll be back in two days.”

The way he spoke, the words fell so effortlessly from those lips, his voice low and cutting through the space yet he spoke at a volume as if he was telling you a great secret

“You said that last time and he kept you with him for a couple weeks...” you thought back to that time

You were seven months pregnant, almost eight, at the time and it was like he fell off the face of the earth

You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything but reside in the manor and you couldn’t even talk to him

You were alone again

“Don’t go...”

the nights in bed alone, the cramps, emotional rollercoasters, motion sickness, nausea

You at least wished he could have called you

The nightmares you had, the worst case scenarios playing in your head until you woke up with tears streaming down your face, only for you to cry yourself silently back to sleep as fear pooled and plagued you from within

He could see the sadness in your eyes and he could remember vividly the mental torture he was put under

No communication to you and all he could at most to see you was through the hidden cameras all connected to his phone  

Even checking in on you had to be done in secret, all to make sure that he was strong enough to continue on the family business even if he had to lose you or be away for unpredictable amounts of time

It was unbearable then and it was still unbearable now

He never asked to grow up into the business of the underworld, let alone take it over from his father at the prime age of 20 four years ago

He never wanted your life to be taken away when you two had already been together when he was recruited

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know I have to,” he sighed. “You know how my father is.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your temple then lips before he stood

“Am I going to lose you?” Your voice broke the silence, breaking through the white sound of the downpour outside

But you had stopped your question early

“Am I going to lose you today? Tomorrow? One day?”

He stood frozen in his place before he could reach for the knob

“No, Y/N. You won’t.” His eyes paused for a bit on you as he thought about his response, the fatigue of being a mother was already showing. “I’ll be able to call you this time and I’m the head now. The only title my father has to me now is father.”

“You won’t.” He stepped back over to you leaned down to kiss you again. “Not today at least…”

“I’ll call you at supper time, darling. Have a good day.”

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as you could, to remember his touch, his voice, his scent, the way he looked before he walked out those doors

Because some days or nights, you never truly know if you would ever see him again

And it terrified you

The sound of the rain only seemed to get more intense now that he was gone and you were here

But now your day was beginning now that you were awake

You slipped out of the king sized bed, leaving the warmth you had slept in as the soft carpet at your feet, your toes sinking into the fibers

Brushing your teeth, showering in the grand bathroom of the manor, it was a life you surely never expected but here you were

Kiyoomi’s father and his entire family had built their name from nothing to the global known corporation that it was today

You dried your body off, finding what to wear today through the walk in closet and once that was found, it was breakfast

“Good morning, madam, shall I bring you your breakfast to the master suite?” Your right hand maid had greeted you as you stepped out as she carried the laundry with her

“Oh, thank you, Olivia, but I’ll head down to the kitchen after waking D/N,” you smiled to the older maid that had worked for the Sakusa family for decades

All the staff that worked and lived in the estates on the property outside of the manor were trained security, men and women, whose jobs were to protect the main family, to serve them, and to keep others who would pose a threat away and out, even if it meant killing them

But you always tried not to think or wonder about how many people these staff have killed or beat up or anything whenever you interacted with them, especially when they greeted you with a smile

They were there to protect you and to make sure that nothing and no would would ever harm your life

You stepped into the nursery, the wide room decorated with warm lights and stuffed animals, some more than twice the size of your daughter

“Hi,” you smiled so brightly seeing your baby’s eyes already open, looking up to you as she sat in her crib, holding onto her blankie. “Good morning precious,” you lowered the front gate of the crib so you could kneel down to her level

Sakusa sat in the limousine as he watched the scene of you and your daughter in the nursery, wishing he could just turn the car around and to stay home

Things were in balance, he knew this already but his father’s orders were orders he still had to respect

He clicked off his phone, tucking the device into his pocket as he was to be in the car for quite a bit of time before he would get to his father’s

The biggest smile spread on her face as she laughed seeing you, her bubbliness seeming to make all the gloominess disappear

“Let’s get you changed~” you chimed as you lifted the baby girl into your arms, getting a whiff of her heavy diaper and finding an outfit for her day 

“Olivia?” You called into the custom intercom by the nursery’s closet, though there was practically one in every room

“Yes, madam?”

“Sorry for troubling you, but could you actually bring breakfast for D/N and I up to the upstairs loft? You could even send it up the dumbwaiter and that’s fine too.”

“Of course, would you like the usual?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

You carried your little girl toward the upstairs loft, one of your favorite areas of the house since it was significantly smaller - well almost - than the living room downstairs

The loft didn’t extend all the way downstairs like how the ground floor’s living room ceiling extended to the second floor

More than ten thousand square feet of property, more rooms in the manor than you knew what to do with them

Four guest bedrooms with full bathrooms, a grand study and two story “little” library, two main bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom and a nursery

So much space, all sorts of technologies, gadgets and gizmos of all sorts in the house

All the systems in the house was made by the Sakusa corporation to ensure security

This even included your and Kiyoomi’s custom made phones

There was also the basement- all sorts of fun activities to be done: a pool, pool table, living room area that opened up to the backyard with the bar and barbecue, the fire pit

and finally, there was the cellar that was the only place Kiyoomi had requested that you never go - and you never did 

You knew that look in his eye, that tone of voice and you knew he had requested this for your best

And most importantly, there were three safe rooms, all three upstairs with hidden entryways to protect you, official guests, and anyone in the family

Before you knew it, Olivia had made her way upstairs with the breakfast as you played with your daughter in the loft, bouncing her on your lap sat on the wide couch

The loft was brightly lit and open, toys of all types for your daughter to play with as the TV played the morning kids show

As filled as the house was with the special staff and things to do, it still felt so lonely and empty as you sat there

You had tried to chat and converse with them but they never loosened up, always keeping all the formalities but it was never any use

The storm outside seemed to be getting worse as your eyes gazed to the horizon, spotting the trees at the edge of the estate where all their branches had been swaying in the wind, the paler, underside of their leaves revealed

Thunder began to rumble in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning but both unbothered your daughter and you as the two of you remained in the loft  

You watched as she rolled about on a blanket, playing with her stuffed animals and the other interactive toys that played music to keep her entertained while you watched the TV, finding nothing remotely as entertaining to watch

But just before you could change the channel to yet another disappointing channel, your attention was pulled to your phone vibrating beside you, your eyes lighting up as you saw the caller ID

“You seem so bored,” Kiyoomi’s deep voice sounded through the phone but he spoke the truth

You were tired and bored but you didn’t want to sleep - it would only make you unable to sleep later tonight anyways

“I am,” you sighed as you muted the TV. “How far out have you gone?”

“Actually, not too far. Only about half an hour since there was a major accident on the highway so we had to take a detour. But traffic is terrible so we were stuck for quite a bit before we could actually exit,” Sakusa almost groaned thinking about the terrible accident

How he was stuck in a single place for practically twenty minutes

“Wow, do you know what happened?”

“Well there was a…” his voice drowned out in your ears as you could hear something that didn’t sound like rain or thunder - they were too distinctly different

Loud bangs echoed in the distance, bringing your attention elsewhere though all you could look was outside the wall window to the dark skies  

But you couldn’t see anything except the normal background of the property but it was just silent again with the white noise of rain washing down the glass, followed by thunder and a flash of lightning as the storm brewed closer and closer

“I’m sorry what? I missed what you said... I think I heard… something weird..” you spoke as you looked outside the windows that looked to the back of the property

You could hear echoes of movement downstairs, the bustling business of the special staff in the house but it sounded standard... or so you thought

“What did you hear?”

“..I don’t know.. maybe it was the storm and I’m just distracted...” you smiled into the phone as you spoke while your daughter happily crawled to you, laying her head on your legs, her puffy cheeks round as ever

“Well, you two were my only source of entertainment so far this trip,” the corner of his lips curled as he picked off small specks off his suit

“That makes one… of us-“ your thought died out in a matter of seconds

You heard louder, clearer bangs while the staff that had been stationed with you just outside the loft talked over their ear coms to another elsewhere

Before you could continue your sentence or call, the bangs only got louder and your body reacted faster than you could say or think

Clear gunshots began firing at the front entrance, echoing off the high walls and ceilings of the manor while the staff worked on securing the doors and all other entrances and possible ones

“Y/N?” Sakusa could only hear the subtle commotion happening but it was clear you weren’t on the phone. “Shit shit shit..” he stayed on the line as he changed to the security cameras he had access to he used to watch you and your guys’ daughter

Looking through the camera surveillance, he caught a glimpse of you disappearing with your phone in hand while your arms carried your daughter as you disappeared toward the bedroom

“Turn back now,” Kiyoomi howled as his driver did just that, not wasting a single second

You ran into the master suite’s walk in closet that led to the entryway of one of the safe rooms, your baby girl in your arms as she held on to you  her whines already beginning before they would turn into cries

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, mama’s gonna protect you,” you smiled, whispering, your voice already shaky, lips trembling as you pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. “Even if it costs my life, precious.”

You moved, leaving the master suite and stayed low as you walked across the “bridge” that connected the loft to the other half of the house

Peeking down, you could hear groans of agony, puddles and splashes of of blood on the floor and walls, empty bullet shells on the ground, shards of glass and broken windows

“Search the house, find that bitch,” a deep voice yelled through the manor as for the first time since the loud bangs happened, it sounded so still, like any normal rainy day

But this was far from normal

You crawled across the marble flooring toward the library

There wasn’t any safe room here but the safe rooms were sure to be where they would look, whoever they were

They were able to get through the security, it seemed like the staff was dead

You silently stood as they scoured the lower levels - you could hear them and all the destruction they were havocking

The cars outside the window blurred into mere colors that passed as the limousine sped through the roads back towards the manor

To save time, they went toward the back roads — it was just the slightest bit longer but time could be shaved down since there were no cars anywhere

“Step on it!” Sakusa commanded as his men readied themselves. “Call in Unit 0,” he demanded as he kept his eyes on the cameras, trying to find you yet he couldn’t see you in the master suite’s safe room

Unit 0 being one of the few very highly trained professional assassins and killers who were at the disposal of the Sakusa family whenever needed

He scoured through the cameras, not even caring about all the destruction being done, all he needed to see was where you and your daughter were

You carefully entered the library, shutting the door behind you as you walked over the wooden floors carefully

Every step made your palms sweaty but your heart stopped after hearing a loud creak in the old floors

The worst part was that there was no way to lock the doors

outside of the door, you couldn’t hear too much but you could still clearly hear the storm as a great big window stretched from the floor to ceiling so all the lighting in here was natural

There was something about the walls surrounding the library that made it sound proof in a sense

You constantly bounced your baby girl in your arms to keep her calm as you tried to get a look outside as you approached one of the corners toward the window

“Search upstairs,” one of the men demanded as a handful of men ran upstairs. “Find her.”

The scoured through all the rooms, flipping every room apart, destroying things, tearing the curtains off, flipping the beds, wrecking the nursery

You peeked out the window that faced the front of the manor yet all you could see were broken things and to your horror, more lifeless bodies of the manor’s staff

But before you could look out any longer, a large rock was launched at the window, breaking the glass, shattering it

Your baby girl let out a loud cry in fear, making your heart drop

“No, D/N, shhhh, please, it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” You quickly pulled open the latch to the library’s hidden passage where the door was one of the bookcases

As soon as you closed the bookcase, you heard the door to the library burst open

Several men, guns ready

You scanned your finger print for the room to be safely locked however it wouldn’t let you. All you could do to make sure the room was locked was to see your body to keep the door shut and still

They walked through the wide open doorway to the library scanning the two open floors that was connected by two black steel staircases that wound their way up and down, connecting the two floors

“Shh, please,” you whimpered to your daughter as she cried into your chest as you stayed by the passage’s door so you could look out the peephole

They pulled books off the shelves, throwing them from the second level to the first, knocking the paintings off the walls, ripping them by sliding their knives through the canvas’, kicking them, breaking the frames

The ground shook as you heard a a loud boom, making you jump in your spot, the ground rumbling and shaking below where you sat

It sounded like a bomb went off on the lower level but you assumed it was the cars in the garage since you could hear the repeating alarm sounding off

Your daughters cries began to start back up at the loud noise, as you did your best to shush her

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered to her as you wiped her tears, keeping her face to your chest as you stroked your trembling hand down her back as tears trickled down your cheeks and dripped off your chin

The limousine slid on the gravel outside the manor as Sakusa’s men sprang to action from the vehicle

Kiyoomi stayed in his seat, continuously scouring through the cameras but you were yet to be found

He couldn’t find a single trace of you

His men, as well as unit 0, entered through the blown open entrance, broken shards of glass crunching beneath their steps as they surrounded the estate the best they could, splitting up to eliminate the intruders

“Where are you, Y/N?” His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately tried to find you yet nothing

But before he could look any further, his heart dropped seeing the red system failure message. Whoever these people were, they were impressive, but not fast enough

Kiyoomi now meant business now that he had no access to actually see if you were okay

He ran out of the limousine as gunshots could be heard all throughout the house as half his men made their way to the upper level while the other half wiped out the intruders on the lower level

He followed behind unit 0, making their way upstairs

He clung onto his gun tightly in his hand, finger ready on the trigger as he barged into the master suite, firing two bullets into the chest and head of a large man as he was pillaging the closets

All the precious jewelry he bought for you were now stained in the pool of the filthy blood of the man who had the audacity to enter the premises

His heart almost dropped seeing him in the closet in the first place but it didn’t seem like the man noticed the entrance to the safe room behind the clothes on the hangers

As he pushed the luxurious wardrobe aside opening the door and to his fear, you were nowhere to be seen

More gunshots sounded off, echoing through the halls, sounding off the walls

He couldn’t focus, his thoughts incoherent, unfinished sentences running in his head as he just ran, killing those in his way to find you

A gun war was going off throughout the library as Sakusa’s men fired at the intruders on both levels but they had great firepower too

Both sides hid behind the marble pillars, the different bookshelves and furniture in the room as the rain showered in

Your baby girl cried loudly, her shaken cries sounding off throughout the passage

“No, no, no, please, baby.” Your heart raced as you dared to look out the peephole, only for it to drop as you saw a man you didn’t recognize yell something to another man near him

The man he yelled to fired more shots while the other one approached the passage entrance, banging noises coming through the bookshelf

“She’s in here! Hold them off!” The man yelled

“No, no, no.” Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to keep the door closed but there was no actual way to since this was just a simple passageway

Your daughter cried loudly in your arms while you gave it your all to keep the door closed

Amongst all the shots being fired, Kiyoomi heard the words the man yelled and then it clicked

He knew where you were

“No.” This one word repeated in his head as he pushed through the front, racing past the bullets being shot towards him as he ran on pure adrenaline

“Boss, no!” His men yelled but this only got the intruders to focus on him, giving them the opening to shoot them all

Kiyoomi shot the man closer to him in the legs before letting his body move on pure killer instinct as he grabbed the man who had fallen to his knees by his jaw, snapping his neck

The other man changed his focus to Kiyoomi as he stood to his feet while the other struggled to pull his gun from his holster

Kiyoomi towered over him as his body moved on his own

He kicked the man to the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger without a second thought

You squeeze your eyes shut, facing the other way from the door, bracing yourself

“I love you. Mama loves you, baby,” you whispered as you cried, a loud rumbling filling your ears as you felt the door being forced open

This was it

You were going to die

Your daughter was doing to die

you let out a blood curtling scream feeling the hands of whoever grab onto you, pulling you, kicking your legs to try to fight 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Kiyoomi’s familiar voice sounded louder and louder over the rumbling you heard in your ears from clenching and bracing your body and your daughter’s

“It’s me, It’s just me!” He soothed you as he turned you

You couldn’t explain or even begin to describe the relief you felt wash through your body, your heart racing and slowing down at the same time as you broke down, your cries mixing with your daughter’s

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Kiyoomi pulled you into his arms, your body shaking terribly in his arms as you cried into his chest, all the fear you felt flooding your senses

“I know, I’m sorry this happened, but you’re okay. Everything will be okay,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, keeping the passage door somewhat closed

You were already put through enough today and he didn’t need you to see the second degree murder crime scene he had committed right outside

“I’m here, I’m here.” He reached up and pulled his mask off as he kissed the top of your head all over, wiping away your tears with his thumbs but you couldn’t stop crying

But that was entirely fine

“But Y/N,” he held your face in his bare hands, his normal gloves off as he stroked his thumb over your cold, damp cheeks

“Why didn’t you go into the safe rooms, darling?” His own voice was unsteady, his lips quivered, eyes teary. “I looked for you and I couldn’t find you and I thought I lost you..” His voice broke off as he gathered himself the best he could, taking deep breaths

Seeing Kiyoomi like this, it broke your heart even more

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I was just scared and- and-“ It hurt you so much

Everything about today did

But just this moment was Kiyoomi, it also touched you

He was such a stoic man, usually one to show a softer, affectionate side with you but this was the first time you saw him shed tears

A man who had taken so many lives was now showing his true emotions for the two lives he would give his own live for a hundred times over if it meant you and your daughter was okay

“I know, I know, but you’re safe,” he let out a deep, relieving breath as he hugged your head closer, your body shaking uncontrollably in his arms

“And hey, shhh, it’s okay baby. Papa’s here.” He stroked your daughter’s head as she sort of calmed down as the two of you sat together, doing your best as parents to shoo away her sadness while his men did their best to first and foremost clear the bodies and blood

You absolutely did not need to see that after today

“You two are both safe.” He breathed as he pulled you two impossibly closer, letting the shakiness of his own heart disperse  

“You’re safe…”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else! 

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[alcinadimitrescuwu]

Welcome to the Family, Boy (Alcina x Fem!Reader Fanfic)

First thank you all for your support for my first Dimitrescu fanfic. I truly appreciate it and all the support this community has given me on. Let's go on to the next one, shall we?

Premise: After a long and stressful week, your wife Alcina wants to help you let off some steam. However, your amorous activities are cut short by an unexpected surprise.

Warning: blood. There are some steamy scenes in here but nothing explicit, so it's mostly safe for work.

As you climb the stairs to your bedroom, you heave a great sigh. It’s been a long and stressful week. Daniela had caused a small fire in the wine cellar basement by knocking over a lantern when she had gotten a little too eager for a feeding. It was eventually put out, but the corpse was burned in the process. Alcina had been furious at the waste of resources. It had taken a full day to get rid of the ash, but the basement was clean. Well, as clean as it could be. Aside from the wine cellar, Alcina didn’t seem to care much about cleaning up the basement. Well, it was over now. Now you just couldn’t wait to curl up next to your wife and get a good sleep.

You arrive at your doorway and hear Maria Callas singing “Casta Diva” from within. You smile. Your mutual love for opera was one of the first things you discussed as you were courting. Before you reach your hand to knock at the door, you hear Alcina call, “Is that you iubirea mea?”

“Yes, dear,” you reply. You stretch your arms behind your head. “Oh, I just can’t wait to get into bed-” Your voice cuts off as you see what your wife is wearing. She is wearing a black peignoir and as she stands up, she casts it off to reveal a black and red lingerie set.

She smiles wickedly. “I can’t wait to get into bed with you either.”

You don’t move. You can only stare. Her scarlet lips match the exact shade of the lingerie. Without any sleeves, you see her muscular arms and you blush as you recall what those arms feel like wrapped around you. Her legs are on full display as well with a red stocking clipped to a garter. They reach up to your shoulders and you have spent many a time nestled in them with your head on her lap. You open your mouth to reply but find nothing coming out.

Alcina pouts and puts one hand behind her on the bed. “Come, pet,” she purrs, beckoning you with a red fingernail. “You’re not going to stand there all day, are you?”

You don’t say anything. You cross the space between you and your wife in three steps and launch yourself over into her waiting arms. The scent of her perfume is overwhelming and you breathe it in. You close your eyes and kiss her chin, her laugh lines and finally her lips. She laughs through the kiss and holds your head between her hands. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t talk,” you rasp, your voice full of desire.

She smiles. “All right, draga mea. No talking then.” She kisses you deeply and you weave your hands through her locks.

She picks you up and carries you across the room, kissing all the while until you reach the wall. You lean your head on the wall behind you and wrap your legs around her waist. “I’ve needed this, my love,” you whisper against her lips.

Ding dong!

You hear the doorbell resound through the castle. You break the kiss and fix her with a quizzical expression. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask.

She shakes her head quickly. “No. Could be a solicitor. Could be a vampire hunter coming to put a stake in all our hearts.” Her golden eyes are glazed over with desire. “Right now I couldn’t care less at the moment.” She nuzzles your neck and you sigh. She breaks away and looks at you, an unasked question in her eyes. She’s hungry. You nod your consent and she pulls away your nightgown to bear your neck and shoulders. She pulls you close and bites your neck and feeds on the blood pooling around your neck. You feel her neck working against your chest as she drinks. You take pleasure in every gasp and moan she makes. You feel pleasantly light-headed by the time she pulls away with a satisfied sigh.

Ding dong!

Alcina groans and bares her teeth in anger. “It’s getting too late for this!”

You caress her jaw. “Dear, maybe we should answer it. It could be an emergency.”

She shakes her head impatiently. “It’s probably some snot-nosed kid playing a prank.” She lifts your chin with a finger and gives you a seductive grin. “Don’t focus on it right now, pet. Right now is about you and me.”

“You’re probably right-” She stops the rest of your sentence with a rough kiss, opening your mouth with her tongue. Her hand travels up your leg and her hand making contact against your bare leg gives you a pleasant chill. Her hand rests on your thigh and she pushes you up against the wall again while using her nimble fingers to unhook your garter.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!

Alcina gives a frustrated growl. “Damn it to hell!”

“Darling,” you say gently petting her arm as a signal to set you down. “If it were kids, they’d be bored and have gone home by now. I’m going to check who it is.”

Your wife crosses her arms and gives an adorable pout. “Fine. Do what you want.”

You adjust your nightgown and wipe any leftover blood and lipstick off your neck. As you walk to the door, Alcina gently puts your dressing gown around your shoulders. You catch her hand and give it a kiss. “I’ll be with you shortly. I just need to get dressed.”

You smile at her. “Very well, darling.” As you turn to leave the door, Alcina catches your shoulder and whispers huskily, “And after we get back, we will most certainly get back the lost time that nuisance has stolen from us.”

You blush furiously and kiss her goodbye. As you walk down the stairs, you hear the doorbell ring again. Once, twice, three times. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming.” You grasp the brass handles and with a great effort manage to open the doors wide. You’re jealous of Alcina in moments like these. She could open the doors with such ease that you forget that each door weighed hundreds of pounds.

You are surprised to see Heisenberg holding something wrapped in cloth. You can’t help but smile when you see Heisenberg. Heisenberg and Alcina may be like oil and water, but the two of you liked each other almost instantly. He told you once that “anyone who could put up with that bitch for more than 20 seconds must be a good person. And you have to put up with her for life!”

Heisenberg returns your smile. “Hi, hon.”

“Hi Karl. How about you come in and warm up with a nice cup of tea?” You stand aside to allow him in. “Come on. It’s freezing out there.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, honey, but I really can’t stay long. Is your ball and chain around? This question concerns her too.”

“Heisenberg,” you hear your wife’s drawl. You both look to see her descending the stairs. There is no evidence of your amorous activities as she has on a fresh coat of lipstick, is fully dressed and her hair is pinned perfectly in place under her hat. “To what do I owe this rather unpleasant surprise?”

Heisenberg clenches his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t come here unless it was an emergency.”

“Then what is it?” Alcina asks as she puts her left hand on your shoulder. You reach up to cover it with your own. “Out with it, and be on your way. Some of us would rather be in bed right now.”

Heisenberg notes your kiss-swollen lips and a hickey already starting to form on your neck. “Yes, I suppose some of us rather would.”

Alcina’s eyes flash and she grits her teeth. “Heisenberg, I swear-”

Heisenberg puts up a placating hand while he holds the bundle with his other. “Ok, ok. I’ll cut to the chase then. Sheesh, do you have any sense of humor?” He unwraps the bundle to reveal a mewling French bulldog. It can’t be more than a couple weeks old.

As you place your hand on your heart Heisenberg continues. “I found him outside of his house. Whole damned family was slaughtered. He needs a place to stay. I thought this might be the best place for him.”

You look at your wife with pleading eyes, but she gives a sharp, “No.”

“Darling-”

“No.” She glares at Heisenberg. “Why can’t you take him in? Maybe it would be an opportunity for you to learn some responsibility for once in your cursed existence.”

You see Heisenberg roll his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Yes, and I’d be responsible for him being torn apart by Lycans. I’m not taking him in. It’s not safe for him there.”

You take your wife’s hand in yours. “Darling, please reconsider. We can’t turn the poor thing away. Besides, our daughters would love having a d-”

She immediately puts a hand over your mouth. “Don’t say it,” she warns, looking furtively around the foyer.

“What?” you ask against her hand. “Dog?”

Almost immediately your daughters, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela materialize from their fly shrouds. They zero in on the dog and Cassandra takes him out of Heisenberg’s hands and the other two crowd around her and begin cooing to it, and letting it sniff and lick their fingers.

Alcina covers her face with her hands. “Now you’ve done it, love.”

The girls look up from their ministrations to the dog and as one rush over to your wife, carrying the dog over with them. They begin speaking up all at once. “Mother, please can we keep him?” “Mother, look how cute he is!” “Mother, Cassandra’s been hogging the dog all this time and it’s my turn to hold him!”

“Enough!” Alcina’s voice booms around the foyer. She puts two fingers in the space between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She sighs aloud. “God, I need a smoke.” She turns to her daughters and with a long suffering sigh says, “Fine. We’ll keep the little mongrel.”

All three daughters erupt into cheers and you can’t help but smile indulgently at them. Daniela runs over and throws her arms around your neck in jubilation. “Maman, did you hear that? We get to have a dog finally!”

“Yes, dearest, I did hear that.” You drop a kiss on her head and she scampers over to take the dog which Cassandra begrudgingly hands to her.

Heisenberg grins and reaches in his pocket. “I have some food and a water bottle for him,” he says, handing you the aforementioned items. “The Duke should have some more, but that’s all I have right now.”

“Thank you Karl,” you say, reaching over to scratch the dog behind his ears. “We’ll take good care of it, won’t we girls?”

“Yes, Maman!” they all answer in unison.

“I’ll be off then!” Heisenberg turns to leave but not before shouting over his shoulder, “And I think he should fit in pretty nicely around here, especially since the Lady of the House is such a bi-”

In an instant, Alcina has him off the ground and has her claws extended only a few inches from his neck. “Heisenberg, did you want to finish that sentence?” she asks sweetly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Let him down, my love. It’s not worth getting so riled up this late at night”

“Fine,” she says and sets him down not too gently. He brushes himself off and glares at Alcina for the rough landing. She just flashes a smile and you notice that only her middle finger is extended in claw form. You look at your daughters, but they are too busy with the dog to notice the obscene hand gesture.

“All right, this time I’m really off.” he says, turning around and walking towards the castle gates.

“Girls, what do you say?” you prompt.

“Thank you, Uncle Karl!” they chorus. Bela snatches the dog and runs upstairs, vanishing in her bug shroud. The girls run after her, Daniela yelling down the hall, “No fair! I wasn’t finished with him yet!”

Alcina closes the doors and leans against them, sighing. “I just hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

You take her hand and kiss it. “Nothing we can do about it now, my love. Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s getting late.” The two of you hold hands and once you arrive at your shared bedroom, Alcina immediately locks the door, pulls you close and fixes you with a wolfish grin. “Now where were we, draga mea?”

“I thought you said you wanted to smoke first?” You laugh and wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah, iubirea mea,” she say picking you up again and giving you a sloppy kiss. “Cigarettes always taste better after sex.”

You kiss her as you unbutton her dress and she puts her hand in the same spot on your thigh as before, this time successfully unhooking your garter. You bite her lip playfully and she gives a little growl of pleasure.

The moment is interrupted by a knock on the door and you hear Daniela’s voice, “Mother? Maman? The dog peed all over the carpet in Bela’s room!”

“Only because you led him there!” you hear Bela retort.

Alcina leans her forehead against yours and starts swearing in Romanian. You give her a kiss and pat her hand before you see to your daughters.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Curiosity Killed The Cat ~ LMH & LF [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

PAIRING: Minho x Fem!Reader x Felix

GENRE: consensual smut, Hitman au, mentions of death, assisnation, bombings, blood, face riding, oral, threesome, M/F/M, after care, no protection

A/N: Please I had so much fun with this! I love writing AU’s so much!!! 🥺🥰💗 Hope this is okay for you my lovely little anon!

"If you don't stop tapping that pen I'm going to shove it so far down your neck you'll whistle when you breathe," Minho growled in Felix's direction as they sat together in an old beat-up car. All Felix had done for the last four hours was tap and click the pen over and over again deciding that he was single-handedly going to be the one driving force that made Minho want to quit his job.

"I don't see anything else to do," Felix countered as he stared back at his partner who simply glared at him before looking out of the window again. It was a stupid idea to stake out a university it looked suspicious that two men were waiting in a car outside but it was the bosses orders. Stake out the school and wait for the suspect to come out but it felt creepy. Although it was a university and most of the students were their age it was strange to them both.

"Have we actually seen him go in?" The truth was no one had seen the guy that they were after in almost seven months, he was good at hiding which was why he was nicknamed "The Chameleon," something Minho hated. Why give the bad guy a name it was only going to boost the ego even more. 

"He's supposedly acting as a student," Minho handed the folder over to Felix keeping his eyes on the door, the Chameleon could walk out right under your nose and no one would have an idea it was him. 

"Why a student? Surely it would be feeling for him to be a teacher," Felix flicked through the folder the guy was a serial bomber that his company had been after for years. He'd killed almost over 100 people with no remorse whatsoever. It was as if the guy was a robot, he didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted, not that anyone knew what that was. His clues were always so vague. One thing for sure, it wasn't money that he was after. 

The government had tried to pay him to stop the needless killings only for the guy to blow the bag up in the middle of the street. 

"Easier to hide...Won't be so obvious when things go missing around the school...The student we're looking at fits his usual MO." Minho sighed taking a deep breath and looking at Felix for the first time in an hour. It was beginning to worry him the closer the two of them got to catching the guy. Their job wasn't a simple catch him and arrest him, no, they were the last resort. Kill him on sight as soon as they know, without a shadow of a doubt that it's him. Assassins or as they were better known as now, Hitmen. 

"Transfers in the middle of the year, things from the science department go missing and then there's the-" Right as Minho was about to explain that there were constant fire drills the alarm began to blare out through the school. 

"Those," He mumbled staring back over at the double-doored exit from the school. There was no use sitting at the entrance when they knew he liked to hide from everyone, if he was the one doing this they needed to find him and quickly before anyone else got hurt. 

"Another drill?" You mumbled looking to your left to see your best friend Mina smirking at you, you rolled your eyes knowing why she was so happy. Thanks to the fire alarm she was going to get out of her final exam and pass it no matter what, 

"It wouldn't surprise me if you were the one pulling them," You mumbled sarcastically as you pulled your satchel over your shoulder, looking around for her so-called boyfriend. 

"What did you do? Get Farara to pull it?" You teased as you jabbed your elbow into her side, walking out into the courtyard and taking in a deep breath, 

"You need to relax, we've just finished exams and you're still studying," Mina rolled her eyes at you, it was always the same with her. She wanted you to let your hair down and relax while you wanted to focus on things that were important to you, like actually passing your course. 

"I have another two years to go, you're done. I'm just getting started." You reminded her as you looked around, you loved Mina with all of your heart but since meeting Farara she seemed to be getting in trouble more. Not only with the university but with the police. Just last week you'd been called down to the station to bail her out because she was caught driving around in a stolen car with enough products to set a whole house on fire. 

"Take a year off, come with me and Farara to England. He's going to take me away and spend time with his family." The more you heard about the guy the more worry began to grow inside of you. She'd hardly known him and yet she was planning to run away to a different country with him,

"What does he even do for a living? To get all of this money?" You questioned hoping she wouldn't get too annoyed with you asking her about him. It seemed as though whenever you asked questions she would get pissed at you, claiming that you were just trying to poke holes in their "relationship,"

"What does it matter?" She stared at you with a disgusted look on her face, 

"Hey, baby!" A voice cried out as a pair of strong-looking arms wrapped around Mina.

"Snuckums!" She practically squealed making you jump as she turned around and began making out with him grotesquely in front of everyone. 

"That's my cue to leave," You said loud enough for them to hear, turning to head home to your dorms when Mina grabbed your arm. 

"Party tonight. Come with us," She begged looking at you with pleading eyes, as you were about to decline Farara scoffed at the thought of it. 

"Y/n? At a party, don't make me laugh. She's the party pooper baby, she doesn't know how to have fun." For some reason, the anger bubbled up inside of you and it seemed to annoy you more. If Mina had been the one to say it it wouldn't have bothered you as much but from him, you wanted to prove him wrong. 

"I'll be there. Text me the details," You smiled smugly in his direction but he just seemed to smirk, it made you feel uneasy to see him smirking at you like that. 

"This will be great! A going-away party right baby!?" Mina squealed before making out with him once again.

After spending almost four hours trying to pick something to wear you finally felt ready to go and headed straight to the party. It was at the frat house Farara had been living in since he got to the university. The whole walk over from your dorms you could have sworn someone was following you along. 

"Glad you could join us, take this." Mina handed you a drink and then laid a flower necklace around you before disappearing into the house leaving you alone. 

The whole house seemed to be partying hard, loud music was blaring for different speakers each of which was playing a different song. People were already yelling and dancing drunkenly along the floor and not to mention someone throwing up in a flower pot. 

"You came pretty late, didn't think you were going to show," Farara smirked once he caught sight of you in the kitchen. You hummed before putting down the cup Mina had given to you, there was no way you were going to drink that night. Not unless it was water at least. You didn't know anyone besides Mina and she was clearly preoccupied with other things.

"We have juice boxes in the basement," Farara joked earning a laugh from someone else in the kitchen but Mina pushed him softly. 

"Leave Y/n alone, she came and that's all that matters. Come on, let's go dance." She pulled you straight into the living room without giving you a chance to answer her. 

"Isn't this fun?! I'm so sad you never got to have parties all year," She pouted at you, wrapping her arms around your waist as she swayed in time to whatever song she heard first. The mixture of the songs and stench alcohol all starting to hurt your head the longer that you stood there but you were at least going to wait an hour before heading home. 

"What the fuck are we doing?" Minho mumbled as he stared down at the jeans and shirt he was wearing, Felix had dressed in the same outfit only a different coloured shirt. When Felix suggested going to the party Minho didn't think he meant actually attending it.

"We're blending in." He chuckled laying one of the flower necklaces around Minho's neck who stared at him with a filthy look the moment it touched his chest. 

"What better way to find out information than going to the people that know the guy." It still didn't make Minho feel any better about being at some kind of dumb University frat party. Everyone was drunk and drooling over one another except for the girl that they had followed over, you. 

"Look," Minho nudged Felix and nodded in your direction as they watched you heading for the bathroom alone. You stood out amongst the rest, instead of dancing or drinking you were simply looking for a bathroom and keeping your head down. They only knew about the party because they'd overheard you and Mina talking about it earlier that day. 

"She looks like she could be here to help, we saw them speaking with one another earlier," Minho reminded Felix but he shook his head,

"She does look like she wants to be here, they didn't look like they liked one another." Minho shrugged his shoulders as he thought back on it, 

"All good acting," The two of them weren't sure if Farara had a partner this time but in all of his other bombings, he had someone. Someone who would take the fall for him, usually the good girl gone bad once they met him and fell for his traps. Promising them a life of happiness in another country, planning everything out so it would seem as though he truly loved and cared for them when he didn't. 

"I'm just saying we find The Chemelon, take care of business and leave," Felix whispered as they made their way through to the kitchen when they saw him. A loud laugh spread through the air that physically sent shivers down their spines, watching as he left out of the kitchen door and down the back garden. 

"Follow him," They said in unison as they headed out of the same door, keeping their heads down as they tried to see what it was he was doing. 

Stepping out onto the back porch you took in a long deep breath of the cold air, it felt nice to have it circulating through you instead of the stuffy air from inside. Mina had begged you to stay once she caught you trying to leave, making you promise her that you wouldn't go anywhere until she found Farara who had run off leaving her in charge of the party. In your mind, he was out fucking someone else since he seemed like a player but you weren't about to tell one of your best friends that. 

The longer you stood there the more you wanted to go home but as you looked down at the end of the garden you frowned. Inside the small shed, there was a flashing light coming through the window and you could have sworn you heard someone grunting. 

"I swear to god if this is Farara I'll murder him," You mumbled to yourself as you began to walk towards the building. All you were going to do was look through the window, if it was him you'd find Mina and tell her. If it wasn't him you'd just act as though you hadn't seen anything but the closer you got the more uneasy you began to grow. Something inside of you was telling you to turn back but you weren't about to let your friend get cheated on by some good for nothing low-life.

"Tell us what you're planning and maybe we'll let you off easy," Felix whispered in Farara's ear from behind him. They'd followed him out and found him packing up a suitcase which meant the bombing was sooner than expected from him. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," The boy stuttered as he stared between the two men in front of him, both of them had guns on display to intimidate him into speaking. As if being strapped into a chair with garden rope wasn't scary enough for him.

"Look, we know who you are. Just tell us where the bomb is," As soon as the word bomb left Minho's mouth he heard a gasp and branch snap from outside the shed. His eyes met with Felix and he nodded over to the side door where Felix could easily get out without being seen. 

Stepping back from the building you tried to move out of the way but ended up backing into someone who pushed you back to the window. Forcing you to stare through it as the man inside shot Farara in the chair he was strapped to. There was no sound from the gun you just saw a blur before Farara dropped forward, lifeless in the chair as blood pooled from the small entrance wound in his head. A small scream was building up in your throat but before you could say a word a hand was covering your mouth and you were ushered into the shed. 

"Clean up to Agents 322 and 366," The man who had killed Farara said down a small earpiece looking over at you with a small smirk on his face, 

"What a curious little kitten," Felix purred in your ear as he ran his fingers up and down your cheek making you shiver, 

“Curiosity Killed The Cat you know,” Minho chuckled as he looked over at you from his phone.

 "I'll ask you once, and only once." Minho lowered himself to your level, looking you in the eyes. 

"Do you know who he's working with? Your friend maybe? Could she have known what he was planning?" Bile rose up in your throat as you watched the blood pooling onto the floor, running along to Mino's shoes as he stood there. 

"Mina. S-She wouldn't have know...I don't think," You looked back at Minho, the gut feeling inside of you seemed to subside as you looked at him and Felix who was now standing in front of you. 

"You don't seem scared that we just killed your friend?" Felix questioned looking from the body and back to you, your eyes get dancing to and from Farara, half expecting him to jump up and have this be some kind of joke. 

"A friend? I didn't know him and he did nothing but belittle me...What was it you said about a bomb?" Curiosity began to build in Minho as he watched you, there wasn't even an ounce of fear towards them from you. 

"Have you heard of the Chameleon?" The realization hit you as you stared at Farara. 

"He fits the MO." You mumbled shocking Felix who just seemed to stare at you in disbelief. 

"You're training to be in the forces?" Minho asked as he laid a garden sheet over the body, your eyes staring back at him this time. 

"My father was an FBI agent, I know some things...I know you're not FBI." A smirk plastered across Felix's lips as he watched you and Minho interacting the way you were. It was the first time he'd ever seen Minho act so casually with someone in months, not to mention he seemed laid back. 

"How do you know that?" Felix quizzed looking over at you as he folded his arms over his chest. 

"For starters, neither of you have a badge otherwise you would have shown me by now, your guns aren't standard issue for agents...So you're hitmen...That or random psychopaths." Minho blinked at you before standing up straight when he heard a knock on the door. 

"Clean up crew," Minho pulled the door open and ushered you out with Felix on your other side. 

"Do you need help with her?" A female voice asked as you turned your whole body to see a female staring at you. 

"No thanks, you go and clean up. We'll take her home." Your eyes shot up to the one with the deep voice, Felix, and you frowned. 

"We'll make sure you get home safe," Minho added when he could see how confused you were. 

Leading you over to their car you stared at it, it was the same car that had been following you earlier. 

"You followed me here," The back door opened and you crawled inside, looking around at all of the empty food packets. 

"Ignore the mess, we were on a stakeout," Felix chuckled as he got into the front passenger seat and glanced back at you. 

"I'm Felix and this is Minho," He shook your hand and you felt a spark ignite inside of you. The way his hand fit around yours made you shiver a little, 

"Look at that, someone liked your touch Lix." Your eyes shot to Minho started up the car and smirked at you through the small review mirror. 

"Give us your address kitten," The small nickname made you clench your thighs as you could feel an aerosol building. After giving them your dorm address you began trying to pull yourself back together, you'd just watch them kill someone and yet you were getting wet at the thought of them calling you kitten. It didn't help that they were insanely attractive, Felix's muscles could be seen through the thin white shirt he was wearing and Minho's ass looked like he worked out an awful lot. You blinked, ignoring the growing wetness that was pooling between your legs. 

"Look at that, we haven't said one suggestive comment and you're squeezing your little thighs together," Minho chuckled as he reached a red light, turning to look at you from the front seat and licking his lips at the sight of you. Completely innocent and sitting there rubbing your legs together as if that was going to give you any kind of satisfaction that you were desperately craving. 

"My guess is she's going to go home and touch herself to the thought of us," Minho teased as he began to drive once again, watching Felix as he turned to look at you. His eyes locking with you as he reached behind to rub your knee softly. 

"I mean she doesn't have to think of us, we could do it for you princess." The car stopped outside your dorm but you made no attempt to move as the car was shut off. 

"Would you like that?" Minho questioned turning his body to look at you. The need to press your thighs together built up but Felix kept them apart, licking his lips as he waited for you to answer the question. A finger trailed up and down your knee and you shuddered, 

"Yes! Yes...Yes, I would like that," You spoke loudly as you stared at both of them, the two exchanged a smirk with one another before climbing out of the car and holding your door open.

"Then who are we to let a pretty little kitten go home needy," Felix growled in your ear, holding your arm as you all walked in the direction of your dorm room.

Neither of them wasted time when they got into your room, attaching their lips to either side of your neck as you let out small whimpers of pleasure. You could already feel each of them smirking against your skin, Felix's hands around your waist while Minho kept his on your breasts, massaging them softly with his hands whenever you would whimper. 

"Here we thought you were the good girl," Minho whispered making you jerk away from him, 

"I'm not. I'm sick of people saying that to me," You spat at him your eyes locking with his as he tilted his head to the side, a smug look on his face. 

"Prove it to me," Without another word you pushed him down onto your bed sinking to your knees in front of him. You pulled down the jeans he was wearing discarding them behind you, forgetting about Felix behind you until he laid down on the floor. 

"Up," He ordered, you rose to your knees and he slid under you so his breath was right against your core. 

"Looks pretty," He whispered referencing the bright pink thong you had worn under your dress that night, 

"But it needs to go." One snapping sound later and you felt a cool breeze on your core,

"Dripping wet Minho, you should see her." A finger began to trace along your folds making your hips jolt forward, 

"So wet, pretty and-" A small kiss was placed on your clit and your eyes widened, 

"Tastes define." Felix moaned out in a deep voice, you whimpered looking at Minho. 

"The confidence seems to have faded from you kitten," You ignored him pulling his cock free from his boxer and smirking at the length. He was larger than you expected but you slowly pumped him in one hand, looking up at him smugly as he jerked. Minho shifted a little, leaning back against the bed letting his elbow prop him up. Running your fingers over the indent under the head of his cock your smirk grew wider as he moaned out.

"Good girl," He breathed out as your tongue began to caress him, swirling around the head of his cock before you took him into your warm mouth pumping your head back and forth while your other hand rested on his thigh. 

"My turn," Felix whispered pulling you to sit down on his face as you let out a moan around Minho's cock who seemed to moan out in pleasure. Hollowing out your cheeks you ran your tongue over the indent you'd found earlier and he cried out gripping onto the sheets around him. 

"Oh shit!" You moaned out as you could feel Felix's tongue running through your folds while he worked two fingers in and out of you, curling them up to meet your g-spot making you cry out again. 

Minho thrust up into your mouth as you took him back, moving your head faster this time setting his whole body aflame. Each thrust of your head caused his whole body to stiffen and he looked at you, holding your face as he began to thrust a little more. You smirked around him nodding at him to let him know it was okay and he slowly began to thrust into your mouth. 

"S-Shit she likes that Hyung, clenching around my tongue." Felix chuckled as he continued to eat you out aggressively as you rode his face, your hips bucking little by little as you felt an orgasm beginning to build up inside of you. Minho thrust up once more before his whole body shook and he let out a moan of your name, cumming into your mouth as he rolled his head back. You swallowed every last drop and focused on the pleasure Felix was giving to you, gripping onto the bed as you rocked your hips in time with his licks. 

"So pretty when your face contorts like that," Minho chuckled as he began kissing you softly, holding your neck in his hand lightly as he forced you to look at him, 

"Do you like this? Two strangers fucking you?" You nodded as you let out a choked moan, pulsating around Felix's fingers as he continued to thrust them into you at a rough pace. 

"Cumming!" You screamed out as your hips continued to buck as your orgasm ripped through you, your legs shaking as you tried to stay upright on your knees instead of falling to the floor the way you wanted to. 

"Y/n?" Felix whispered as he pulled himself into a sitting position, watching you as you ripped your dress off from your body, you were ready and you needed one of them inside of you. Now.

Lips met yours over and over again as Minho pulled you up onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard as you straddled his lap. Kissing him wherever you could, lips, neck, collarbone, anywhere you could get your lips on him. Felix sat behind you naked, his cock pressed against your ass as you let out a whine. 

"Still so wet," Felix chuckled as he teased your entrance with two fingers, meanwhile Minho had worked his fingers down to your clit circling slowly. 

"Holy fuck," You breathed out as your head fell forward to rest on top of Minho's. Your brain was in a fog as they continued to tease you with their fingers until Felix sank two inside of you and Minho applied the pressure that made you cry out pushing your hips back into Felix. 

A third finger was added and your whole body felt as though it was on fire, your fingernails dug into Minho's arms as you cried out a mixture of both of their names. 

"Someone is ready for us," Minho chuckled as they removed their fingers making you whimper at the sudden lack of touch from either of them. Felix moved to the edge of the bed and sat in the same position Minho had before. 

"On the floor kitten," He whispered as you got onto your knees in front of him, this time Minho sat behind you with his cock at your entrance causing you to clench around nothing. 

"You sure?" You ignored the stupid question as you sank down onto Minho's cock crying out as you adjusted to the size of him. 

"That..Oh shit...That's a yes Felix," Minho moaned out as he held onto your thighs, grunting at the tight feeling as you wrapped around his cock. Smirking to yourself you looked up at Felix, taking him into your mouth and began to bob your head as you had done with Minho. The two men moaning out in pleasure as you controlled them, moving your hips up and down at a slow pace just to torture Minho that little bit more. 

"Fuck," Minho's hands gripped onto your waist and he thrust up harder and faster into you, his breathing jagged as he moaned out your name. Felix's cock twitched into your mouth as you began to roll your tongue around the head of his cock, reaching your hand down between your thighs to circle your clit. 

Fire was beginning to build in your stomach with both moans from men titling you over the edge. 

"Just like that," Felix cried out as you moved your head in time with Minho's fast thrust. The room filled with wet sounds and slapping skin as you cried out around Felix's length. Felix's hand rested on your cheek as he began to thrust into your mouth, grunting as he came down your throat holding you around him until his hips stopped jerking. 

"M-Minho! I-I’m cumming! I-I’m cumming!" You screamed out as he continued his sinfully fast thrusts until he came into you touching you deeply as your head rolled back against his chest. Clenching onto anything you could get your hands on, screaming out his name. Cumming around him as you pulsated in pure bliss, your whole body felt as though it was shaking. 

Minho smirked as you slept in his shirt, they'd managed to clean you up with a warm wet cloth and got you into bed. 

"Poor thing must be exhausted," He smirked running his fingers over your face as your frowned in deep slumber. 

"That was a nice reward though for finishing our job," Felix laughed as he looked at your body, you were curled up in a small clutching onto the sheets and he smiled. 

"We should get going, paperwork to report and all that," Minho mumbled grabbing a hoodie from your wardrobe as he turned to leave.

The morning you woke up images of what had happened flashed before you and if it hadn't been for the achiness between your thighs. You would have thought it a dream and yet, you were laying there in a shirt that wasn't yours and a note beside your bed,

Until next time Curious Kitten x 

Written at the bottom of the note were two numbers with the boy's initials by the side of them, you clutched the note against your chest as you laid back. Enjoying the memories of the night before. 

Tagline: @minholuvs​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ 

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1 HERE

People wanted a part 2, so here you go!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 2:

What had started with you and some friends trying to get a fan belt for their car and maybe some mild flirting with the man who owned the garage, had all ended in hell breaking loose. Bo had been charming and helpful, you had felt an instant connection to him, the type of connection that soulmates so often talked about.

At first you had been disappointed that he didn't seem to recognise your scars, proving he wasn't your soulmate, but now you were thankful for it. At least you weren't cosmically tied to the man who had just turned and attacked your friends.

He had shot Wade and Carly had disappeared. You had been dragged to a basement beneath the garage and left there, him promising to deal with the rest of the group you came with before returning.

Out of the people you came on the road trip, you only really knew Carly. She was the only one you would truly have to mourn but seeing Wade shot like that and knowing the others were next was undeniably traumatic.

Left alone in the basement, you tried to find a way out but there was only a heavy locked door between you and your freedom. When trying to open it failed, you settled for banging on it and shouting for help. You hoped that some other of Carly's friends would come looking for the three of you when you were gone for so long, maybe they would hear you and you could get out of here.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, hands becoming bloodied from repeatedly hitting the door, throat becoming sore from shouting. But you were finally interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. You stopped and stepped away from the door, looking up at the ceiling as the car came to a stop.

God, you hoped it was somebody from the camp...

You began to panic as you heard feet descending the stairs outside of the locked door, moving yourself further away from it. You heard the lock clicking before the door was pushed open, Bo stepping into the dimly lit basement.

"Stop banging on the fucking door" Bo snapped, clearly frustrated despite likely not having heard it if he was out in his truck...

You didn't respond but he moved closer and you noticed that he had left the door open. At this point, you had run out of options and had to take every opportunity that presented itself.

You suddenly darted towards the door, trying to pass him, but it was fruitless. Bo quickly caught you, grabbing you by the arms and standing in front of you to further block your path. You thrashed and fought against him but it was no use.

"The others?..." you asked, dread clear in your voice.

"My brother is dealing with them" Bo informed you, like it was nothing.

"...are you going to hurt me?" you were already sure of the answer, you just didn't know what he wanted from you. Why had he left you in the basement rather than just disposing of you like he had done the others.

"No. That would be, quite literally, self destructive" he chuckled darkly. He was too calm, you just knew what he had done to your friends...he had done before.

"What?" you didn't understand his comment.

Bo grabbed your wrist, his bloody hand wrapped completely around the scarring on your wrist, almost like it was instinctual. As he released your other arm, you tried to pull your hand away but his grip was too tight. With his free hand, he pulled up the sleeve his coveralls, revealing scarring that was identical to yours.

You stared at the twisted skin, processing what this meant. You had been right from the beginning when you first saw him, this was your soulmate.

"No...no" you shook your head, trying harder to pull your wrist out of his grasp. You just kept repeated the word 'no' as tears streamed from your eyes. How could you soulmate be somebody who did such awful things.

"Shhh, it's alright" Bo cooed, almost ironically. He continued to shush you as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

Your brain told you that you should be a far away from him as possible, to kick and scream, but his embrace was strange comforting. Of course it was, you were fated to find comfort in his arms. Destined to meet him and love him. The universe wanted you both together, it was meant to be.

Maybe that was why your body began to relax as you cried into his chest, clutching at his coveralls. You hated him, you wanted to hate him, you needed to hate him. Yet, you were destined not too.

Bo kept you held against his chest and you couldn't even find it within yourself to pull away, finding comfort in the source of your pain.

Slowly, the sinking realisation settled. If you were Bo's soulmate, there was no way he was letting you leave. He had already made sure that there was nobody left to tell anyone where you were. If anyone eventually worried about your group going missing, they would assume you all ran off somewhere or eventually decide that you were the next mysterious case of missing people. It was unlikely anyone would track you down to a random, deserted, little town.

"You're home now" Bo whispered into your hair.

You sobbed at the realisation, and yet you clung tighter to him. He just held you tighter.

Bo smirked to himself as he ran a hand over your hair, only to have you shift closer to him. He knew that you hated him but he was confident that would change over time. Just from the way you were acting now, he knew he could win you over, and he knew you wouldn't be leaving him.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up" you didn't respond as he pulled away, grasping your arm before guiding you out of the basement.

He kept hold of your arm as he walked you through Ambrose, towards the house he had taken you too earlier that day. As you were walking along the road, a familiar truck pulled up beside you both, bringing you to a halt.

Lester, the man who had brought you into Ambrose in the first place, hopped out of the truck.

"Everything's cleaned up" he informed Bo before looking at you and grinning. "they're your soulmate?" Bo just nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. "It must be your lucky day" Lester teased his brother, who only rolled his eyes. You frowned a little. Meeting your soulmate was meant to be a good, a lucky, day...unfortunately this had also been one of the worst days of your life.

"Go see how Vincent is doing, alright?" Bo asked, sending his younger brother away.

Lester just rolled his eyes before climbing back into his truck. He had wanted to stick around and get to know his brother's soulmate a bit more, but he understood that you were probably shaken.

Finally, you and Bo returned to his house and he led you into the kitchen, where he sat you down in a chair. You stayed silent, processing, as he washed his hands in the sink, washing the blood away.

Once his hands were clean, he wet a cloth and returned to you, pulling a chair out opposite you before sitting down.

He grasped your hands and you allowed him too, letting him pull them into his lap as he began to wipe away the blood.

"You're in shock and you're angry but you'll come around" Bo sounded sure about that but you supposed he had every right to be, you were his soulmate after all. You had to come around. "You know I can't hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you, right?" he asked and you just nodded. Of course he can't hurt you, it would only be hurting himself. Literally. At least you had that peace of mind.

You watched as he cleaned your hands, it was almost tender. A complete contrast to the cruelty he had treated the rest of your group with.

"Why did you do all this?" you asked quietly when it fell silent.

"I'll explain everything later" Bo promised, knowing he had a lot to explain and that he had to tell you everything. You would find out one way or another.

You just nodded, hanging your head. "Hey, c'mon now, the worst is over" he reassured you, lifting a hand to wipe a tear from under your eye with his thumb. "I know this probably ain't how you expected to meet your soulmate but you're gonna be just fine, darlin'" he did sound genuinely sympathetic, at least to some extent.

Removing his hand from your face, Bo stood from his chair, going to drop the now bloodied rag into the sink.

You weren't sure what came over you but you quickly grabbed his hand, stilling him. You just felt safer, the closer he was. A instinctual part of you wanted him to remain close, as if it didn't understand the nuance of the situation. He seemed a little surprised but turned to you expectantly.

"How did you get those scars?" you asked. Something you had wondered all your life.

"You still feel bad for me?" Bo asked, almost sarcastically, like he couldn't imagine you having any sympathy for him anymore.

"You were a child...I would never blame you for that" you shook your head.

"...I'll tell you later, okay? When you actually want to talk to me" Bo promised. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it again, knowing he was right. How could you talk to him about something like that after what he just did? You shouldn't have even asked.

You reluctantly released his hand, letting him dispose of the cloth.

You didn't want to admit it but you knew that eventually you would want to talk to him, that your fated connection would become much stronger than your determination to hate him for the horrible things he has done. There would come a day when you simply...didn't care anymore, and you would want him by your side despite it all.

[walkerwords]

“For The Love of a Daughter” Negan & Daughter!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

Part II PART 3

Request from Anonymous: Hello there! First time requesting something, but I'm in love with your writing (especially Savior Sessions). How about a story where the reader is the daughter or younger sister of Negan and they were separated when the world went to hell. He has no idea that she's still alive, surviving with Rick's group from the beginning, and they reunite during the lineup. I just wonder how Negan would react to seeing someone he legit cared about in the lineup. Would he show mercy or up the brutality?

Word Count: 4375

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Blood, Head-Bashing

Song I Wrote To: “Man or a Monster” by Sam Tinnesz, Zayde Wolf

Note: This is a prompt I have always loved! I hope you enjoy my take on it! SPOILERS FOR HERE’S NEGAN AND SEASON 7 PREMIERE ETC. 

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When the world went to hell, you and your parents were doing everything you could to survive. 

With your mother battling pancreatic cancer and your father trying to keep her going, you were just trying to be the best daughter you could be given the circumstances.

When your father started talking about some traveling doctors, you began to worry. He had left you alone with your mother before, but never for too long. At just fourteen, you had to become your mother’s keeper and while you were glad to have done it, you had needed your father, too. 

It was early one morning, a few days after your father had left that your mother, Lucille, had asked you to go and check the snares you and your father had put out across the road. You never liked going outside alone, but with your dad gone and your mom in bed sick with fatigue, you agreed. After kissing her goodbye, you grabbed the gun, a knife, and left the house quickly. You were scared of the Dead, but you had managed to stay away from them when you could. It was only a problem when they got too close to the house. 

You quickly realized that they moved slowly and you could outrun them if needed. However, that didn’t matter when they walked in groups. That was always terrifying. The snares had been empty and so, with a frown, you had returned to the house, but when you arrived in the basement, you had been met with something truly horrible. 

The sight of the empty pill bottles was enough for your knees to give out. When you finally saw your mother laying there, a plastic bag stretched over her head, you knew what she had done and it broke you. You had killed the Dead before, but this was not a nameless monster...it was your mother. 

Broken, you waited for three days, then five, and still, your father never returned. Even though she hadn’t wanted to be left alone in the state of immortal decay, you couldn’t end her and so, you went looking for your father. 

You never found him. 

Instead, you walked until you met people. You never stayed with them long, afraid that they would hurt you or abandon you. The longest you spent with anyone was a group of six who had been heading from D.C. You traveled with them for a while until the leader began to act strange and hid a bite from the rest of you. That was the night that you ran away. It was a day later that Eric and Aaron had found you and brought you home to Alexandria. 

The walls of the community were sent from above in your opinion. Deanna, the leader, had welcomed you immediately and you had no interest in leaving. It took you a while to trust the people within the safe zone, but soon enough. Deanna, and another teenager named Enid, became very close to you. 

For two years, you lived in Alexandria, learning everything you could about survival. Pete, while he was someone who unnerved you, taught you everything you could learn about medicine while Olivia taught you how to cook. You also learned to kill the Dead, watching the way Aidan did it.

You had found a family within Alexandria, but every day you missed your mother and you wondered where your father was and if he was even alive. You figured he was dead considering he never came back, but there was always a bit of hope that lived in your gut at the thought of him still alive out there somewhere.

You were seventeen when Aaron brought home a big group of people and you met Rick Grimes and his family. You knew immediately that they were not people to be messed with, but soon enough, you got along with them. Especially Daryl and Maggie who you looked up to a lot. 

When Deanna had died the night the horde invaded Alexandria, you had lost a woman who had become like a mother to you, but you now had more family to keep you going. Daryl taught you how to hunt, Michonne and Rosita taught you to fight, and even Rick’s son had taught you everything he knew about weapons. It was starting to look like things would finally be looking up. 

That is until Rick and Daryl met a man named Jesus. 

From then, everything began to go downhill and a nagging feeling began to follow you. There was a new enemy in the area and his name was Negan. Immediately you thought about your father. It wasn’t as if Negan was a common name. However, no matter how many similarities there seemed to be when Hilltop would mention the menacing leader of the group known as The Saviors, you denied that it was him. It couldn’t be. Your father? A killer? It didn’t make sense and so, you ignored it. 

However, like everything in life, things had a way of catching up to you. 

After your group had attacked what they believed to be the main setup for The Saviors, you thought it was over, but you had been wrong. 

Having a habit of sneaking out of Alexandria on days that it got too much, you were a ways out with just your gun, a knife, and a pack filled with water and a few pieces of fruit. You hadn’t planned on staying out too long, but you had gotten turned around and it had taken you a while to get back to the main road. 

That was when you heard it. 

Someone was nearby and they were not familiar. You never approached the Living unless you were sure they were harmless, but considering the gun this man was carrying, you didn’t even want to chance it.

The man was standing at an intersection as you moved through the trees behind him. A radio was in his hand as he spoke into it. While you were pretty far back, you caught a few words such as Alexandria, Negan, Hilltop, and RV. 

You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew it couldn’t be good. After taking a few moments, you began to follow the man, keeping to the shadows as Daryl taught you. There was a lot you had learned from the archer and it was finally coming in handy. 

You followed for a few hours and you were about to give up when you finally began to see that the man was gathering people and almost ushering them into a single direction. You began to get nervous as more and more armed individuals began to arrive at certain points. 

The way they spoke about Negan only kept that nagging feeling about your father fresh in your mind. However, like always, you shoved it down and kept following them. As night fell, you lost them for a while, but when you picked up their trail again, everything in your body felt as if it were on fire. 

Your family had become cornered by Saviors and Maggie, who was kneeling on the ground, did not look good. Your eyes scanned for Daryl and you spotted him at the end of the line not looking much better.

A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and blood was trickling down his arm. Your entire family was kneeling in the dirt as they started up at a tall man who held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. As he turned back to face your people, you felt your heart snap in half. 

It was your father. 

Every thought, every theory, and every disregard for the truth that you had ever even considered disappeared as you witnessed your father intimidate your family. Rick was staring at him as if he had been beaten, a look that you had never seen cross Rick Grimes’ face. You had to keep your hand over your mouth as you watched what was happening, trying not to be heard, but it was difficult as your father began to walk around the line, aiming his bat at each of your family members. 

When he paused before Abraham, you couldn’t move or breathe. “Anybody moves, anybody says anything,” your father began, his deep voice reverberating through your bones, “cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start. You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that.” Your knees gave out as he swung and smashed his bat into Abraham’s head. “Oh! Look at that! Taking it like a champ!” Negan said as he kept hitting the man you had come to care about. 

Abraham had tried to have the last word, but he died quickly after the final hit and you felt your entire body light up with rage. Snapping out of your haze, you moved through the trees and grabbed the first Savior you could. A woman around your size. Grabbing her from behind, you lock her in a chokehold, crushing her windpipe the way Daryl had taught you months before. 

Taking her gun, you leveled it at another Savior and took a shot. Blood sprayed from their chest and they hit the ground. “What the fuck!” your father exclaimed, but you kept moving.

However, Negan’s men were faster. You were instantly tackled before you could aim again. Your face hit the dirt hard, causing you to grunt in pain. You fought against the man that had you pinned but it was no use. 

“Get off of me,” you snarled, but he just dragged you into the clearing more, throwing you before your father’s boots. You remembered all the times you used to put on his biker boots and walk around the house, trying to act like him. It always used to make your mother laugh. You had always wanted a bike like your dad’s, but your mother wouldn’t even let you ride on the back of it until you were sixteen. You never got the chance to do any of it with him and now you weren’t sure you were going to make it to sunrise. 

“What do we have here?” your father said as he moved closer, but you kept your face hidden from him. Not wanting to look at him like this. The Savior at your back pressed you further into the ground. 

“Let her go!” Carl sneered from next to you and you could see him struggling against the warning hand of his father. Fresh blood from Abraham was splashed on Rick’s face and you could hear Sasha softly crying, Rosita, too. 

Negan then knelt before you and you tucked your head further away, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Look at me,” he ordered, but you ignored him. “Look. At. Me. Or I’ll start getting angry,” he said and that was when you couldn’t bite your tongue any longer.  

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” you said as you slowly looked up at him with livid eyes. “I still remember what happens when you start yelling.” Negan was frozen as he beheld you and as you sat up straighter, he got to his feet, backing away. The baseball bat in his hand fell limp to his side as he stared at you with wide eyes. “Did you ever go back?” you said, unable to stop yourself. You could smell the coppery tang of the fresh blood on the ground and tried your best to ignore it. “Did you ever see what happened to her?” you asked, staring at him with a wild look in your eyes. 

Negan still didn’t speak as he stared at his daughter. A daughter he thought was dead. 

“She made me go check the traps,” you said, getting more of your nerve back, “and when I came back… Fuck! I waited for you and you never showed up!” you said, your volume increasing. Around you, both your family and your father’s soldiers were looking at you and him in confusion, unsure about what was going on and who you were to one another. 

Negan tried to keep his composure, but he was failing as you continued to badger him about Lucille. He didn’t know how to respond to you, he didn’t know what to do at all. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe that you were alive and sitting in front of him, but then there was the horrifying side. The one that made him realize what you had just seen him do. He averted his eyes, setting them on the bloody corpse on the ground. 

“Look at me,” you said, getting to your feet and ignoring the Savior with the gun trained on you. Negan didn’t as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. His eyes remained on the bloodshed and that only fueled your fire further. “Dad!” you screamed at him and that’s when he snapped out of his haze. Whirling on you, he grabbed you by your jacket and started dragging you towards the RV. You were too surprised to fight him as he nearly threw you inside. 

“Nobody fucking move,” Negan said to his men and his hostages as he slammed the door shut behind him, locking the two of you in low light. As he turned to you, you lashed out, landing a punch to his face. “Fuck, kid!” he swore, holding onto his jaw. 

“I didn’t think that when I heard the name Negan it was going to be you. But who else could it be, right? I always knew you had a fucking temper, but murder? Are you fucking kidding me!” you punched him again, this time hitting his chest. 

“Stop it!” he snapped, grabbing onto your hand before you could swing again. 

“You left me alone with her, you son of a bitch! She died alone! She left me alone because she couldn’t fight anymore and then you never came back!” 

“Sit down,” Negan said, throwing you onto the bench. “We are not having this conversation here.” He ignored your protests as he sat in the driver’s seat and started up the RV. Sitting there as the RV rumbled beneath you, you fought back the tears that threatened to overflow and run down your cheeks. 

Abraham was dead. 

Your father had killed him. 

And he wanted to kill more of your family. 

You bit down on your hand to keep your sobs quiet, but Negan could see you in the rearview mirror and he had to keep his eyes focused in order not to crash the large vehicle.

His heart was racing and all he could think about was you and how you had grown up and become a young woman rather than the young girl he had seen last. However, there was a level of anger he had as well. What were you doing with these people? How had you ended up with them and why were you sure damn sure that he was the bad guy? Negan had too many questions and he knew that you had to have had them as well. 

You silently cried in the back as Negan drove through the foggy air, the sun on its way to the horizon. You fought the urge to vomit as you thought about Abraham’s body on the ground, his head split open. You could still hear the cries of your friends and the look on Daryl’s face when you had stumbled into the clearing. 

Eventually, Negan stopped the RV and all you could hear was the sound of Walkers as they converged around you. The sound had become so familiar that it didn’t even bother you anymore. Negan pulled the keys from the ignition and then was walking towards you. Getting up from the table, you backed away from him. 

“Don’t,” you warned and he stopped, placing the bloodied bat on the table. 

“What the hell are you doing with those people?” he asked you. You scoffed and then threw the closest thing to you at him. It happened to be some old travel book. He dodged it easily. 

“I haven’t seen you in years and that’s what you have to fucking say to me? I thought you were dead!” 

“I know and I’m...fuck, I’m so sorry, kiddo,” he said, trying to play the caring father again, but you couldn’t, wouldn’t, hear it. 

“That doesn’t mean shit to me! Not after...that. You killed him! There is a pregnant woman in that line, Dad! A kid, too! What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“They killed my men, (Y/N),” he argued, sitting into one of his hips. The jacket on his torso shifted slightly. You instantly recognized it as the one your mother had given back to him. You remembered how angry she had been when he had used the credit card to buy it. You also remembered the smile on his face when she had given it back to him. It was one of your favourite memories of your parents after the turn. 

“What men?” you asked. “Those people at that satellite outpost? They were stealing food and supplies from Hilltop and tried to get a man to bring them another man’s head!” you said, unable to even begin to comprehend his reasoning. Negan’s eyes darkened then. 

“Were you there?” he asked, his voice low. 

“What? No!” you said, surprised that he would even ask you that. “I was back home protecting the town as Rick asked me to.” 

“Ah, so that’s what this is about, huh?” Negan said. “Rick your new daddy? Got yourself a whole new family. then?”

“At least he doesn’t fucking murder innocents,” you shot at him.

“Don’t!” he yelled and you flinched, never liking when he raised his voice. Negan noticed immediately and took it down a few levels. “Nobody is innocent anymore.” You shook your head, not wanting to hear anymore. Shoving your hands against your head, you listened as the Walkers shoved at the door and windows, trying to get to the Living inside the RV. You cringed every time one hit the handle with a bit too much force. 

“They took care of me,” you said, trying not to yell anymore, but it was difficult. “They made sure I was fed, safe! They taught me how to survive, Dad! I would be dead without Rick and his family!”

“I don’t care,” Negan said back. 

“No, you do care, you just won't let yourself feel anything,” you challenged, facing him again. He didn’t respond then and you couldn’t help moving closer to him. When you were close enough, you pushed him hard. You did it again, feeling the solidness of the man who you once trusted to always protect you. “I defended you against everyone who told me you were nothing but an angry cheater!” you said as you continued to lash out at him, pushing and pushing until he got off balance. “I loved you so much and this is what you become?” you asked through thick tears. “Was I not enough?” your voice broke on the last word and his eyes fell to yours, a softness present that you hadn’t seen in years. 

“You are more than enough,” he whispered. “You’re my daughter.”

“I used to be proud of that,” you said through a hoarse voice. 

“And now?” he questioned. 

“Now, I can’t even look at you without wanting to scream.” 

“I don’t know how to make you understand,” Negan said, reaching out to smooth his hand over your face, but you moved before he could. 

“You don’t have to, just let them go. Please,” you begged. 

“I can’t do that either,” he said and you shoved away from him again, pacing as the Dead continued to pound on the metal sides of the RV.

“Fuck, Dad! You can’t just kill them!” 

“I can and I will!” Negan bellowed back. “That is how the new world works, Darlin’.” You shook your head, trying to get him to see reason. 

“Rick will hunt you down if you touch any more of them,” you warned. “The others, too. Did you honestly think you weren’t going to get push back after you just slaughtered one of our strongest fighters? Abraham was one of our protectors!”

“How many do you have?” Negan asked and you scoffed. 

“That’s what you got from that? Fucking hell, what the hell happened to you?” 

“I lost everything,” he argued. 

“So, you just decided to start taking shit from others? You were broken so you thought you’d just fuck everyone else over?”

“Since when are you like this?” he asked, appalled at your language and attitude. 

“As you said, I’m your daughter,” you reminded him. 

“You were always so kind,” he whispered. 

“New world order, right? I’ve had to adapt, but at least I didn’t become a psychopath.” Negan narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw clenching despite the pain blooming beneath his skin where you struck him.

“How many fighters do you have?” he asked again.

“I’m not telling you shit,” you said. 

“Just like your mother,” he muttered and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Take me back,” you demanded. 

“(Y/N)…” he said, taking a deep breath.

“If you are going to kill my family then you are going to have to kill me too because I will not just stand there and watch,” you said, giving him an ultimatum that he was not prepared for. Negan didn’t move and he didn’t say anything. You tried to gauge his reaction, but he was as stoic as ever. “Fine, I’ll walk,” you said as you yanked open the door to a horde of Walkers. 

“Dammit!” Negan swore as he kicked out at the Walker that reached for you. He slammed the door shut and shoved you back into the seat you sat before. “Fine!” 

You didn’t speak to him as he drove back to the clearing. The sun was starting to rise and you felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. You weren’t ready to face your family again, but if there was a chance that Negan would show mercy with you there, then you had to try. You thought about Maggie and her baby, Judith waiting for Rick, Michonne, and Carl back home, and Tara and Heath who didn’t know what was going on, Carol, too. You just needed to get back to them. 

When the RV finally arrived back in the clearing, Negan went first, strutting down the steps, the bat hanging in his hand as if it was an extension of his arm. You followed, keeping your eyes on the soldiers around you. When you stepped into the sun, you were glad to see that no more of your people were harmed, but Abraham's body was still in the same place, his blood pooling on the ground. 

Maggie was slumped over and without looking at your father, you slid to her side, propping her up with your arms. She gripped you tightly, her eyes filled with fear that she was losing her baby. Glenn was aching to be by her side, but Daryl was keeping a grip on him. You turned to stare at your father, trying to gauge what he was going to decide. 

As Negan stared at you, his lieutenant made a comment that made your blood run cold. “Lucille looks a little dry there, Boss,” the one named Simon said as he gestured to the bat.

Negan swore as he realized you had connected the dots. Your eyes shifted from the bat and then back to him before you got to your feet and charged at him, throwing obscenities with all the energy you had left. Negan caught you before you could do some damage as your nails aimed for his face. 

“Stop it,” he said to you, holding you back. 

“You named that thing after her! You son of a bitch!” you screamed and he dropped the bat, latching his arms around you, trying to get you to calm down. Your yells of anger turned into cries of pain as every emotion and every thought overwhelmed you. You went limp in his arms and he had to use his strength to keep you on your feet. Looking at how broken you were, he couldn’t stomach it anymore. 

“We’re done here,” Negan finally announced as he let you go. You slid to the ground, unable to stay on steady legs. Negan picked up the bat and flicked some blood off of it. Your stomach turned at the sight of it. He then looked at Rick with a level stare. “You fuck with my men again and I won’t just stop at one of you,” he threatened. Negan began to walk away and you did everything you could to move towards your family, but it was difficult. 

However, someone got to you first. You could smell him before anything else. The sweet smell of motor oil mixed with tobacco was what comforted you the most. 

Daryl. 

Daryl Dixon, the man that had become a big brother to you and a best friend, hauled you close to him, burying his face in your neck. You held him back tightly, apologizing to him over and over. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you repeated. “I should have known.”

“Not yer fault,” Daryl said into your shoulder. “It’s okay, girl, it’s okay.” Daryl held you closer as the Saviors moved out and soon another set of arms were around you as Carl joined in on the hug. You held both of them and cried as your father watched on. His eyes met Rick’s and there was a promise in the latter’s face that he was not done with Negan and that he would not stop until he was dead. 

Taking one last look at the daughter he thought he lost, Negan got into the truck with Simon and Arat.

“What’s the plan, Boss?” Simon asked as he started the truck. Negan gripped Lucille tighter and with determination on his face, he turned his eyes towards the road ahead. 

“I’m gonna get my fuckin’ kid back.” 

TAGS: @please-help-this-little-bisexual​ @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @felicisimor​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ @huffledor-able541​

[floraltypes]

Old Beginning Pt. 2

pairings - aaron hotchner x reader, jethro gibbs x reader

chapters - one 

summary - the news of a dinner party arrises, but there are some little challenges before the actually night

wc - 3k

an - sorry this took awhile, my summer is over and my writing schedule will be a little wonky now. i’m taking a break from answering requests, so I apologize if I haven’t answered yours, but i eventually will

Penelope and you both looked back at Aaron, taken back by his repeating of the word ‘boyfriend’. You didn’t plan on telling people so soon, considering he was your boss from your old line of work.

“I want to know everything about him, you have to invite him!” Penelope quickly went back into her loud chatting, attracting other faces at her comment. “I also may have mentioned to some of the team that you do have a boyfriend, it just slipped! You know I can’t keep secrets!”

“It’s okay, Pene,” You smiled softly. “I can’t invite him though, you know, since I’m not the one holding the dinner event.”

“You can invite your partner, everyone else can as well, considering it is a catch up,” Dave walked over, a cup of coffee in his own hand as he used the other to scratch at his stubble. “I’ll even invite the woman I’ve been seeing. Feel free to all bring a plus one, I have enough room and everyone deserves a taste of my Italian dishes, will change their lives.”

“Thank you, Rossi, but I simply can’t. It’s so soon, and he’s such a busy man,” You laughed, waving your hand. “It was a kind gesture though.”

“L/n, don’t tell us you’re embarrassed to show your new boyfriend to us?” Derek walked back over, poking your shoulder. “Penelope told all of us down here, just wanted to wait and see when you would tell us.”

“I’m not embarrassed, that’s absurd. He’s truly busy.”

“Invite him, I’ll make sure Will comes and hire a babysitter for Henry, so that we can truly have a adult night,” JJ chuckled. “Everyone is bringing a date, so it would be odd if you didn’t.”

“Actually, I don’t have a partner at the moment due to how invested I am in my studies and the factors of that many young woman my age only focus on the factor of conventional attractiveness rather then the complexity of brains and deep-”

“Don’t worry, Spencer, if you don’t have a date, then I’ll just bring two,” Emily joked. “You don’t need a date, I’m not bringing one either, but Y/n is for sure.”

“I’ll be like the tw-”

“You are dating someone, we aren’t, so you’ll bring that someone. Come on, L/n,” Emily continued on, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “I’ll walk you out,” She turned back to wink at her coworkers, leading you to the elevator and soon the parking lot.

“Aaron,” Rossi looked towards his friend, a man who had his glare fixated on your exiting figure. “Will you bring Beth, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” He answered, retrieving his cellphone from his pocket, pulling up her contact picture, thumb hovering over the call button. “Let’s finish up this work, so we call all get home.” He shoved it back in his pocket, commanding everyone else while moving back up the stairs to his office.

Meanwhile, you were outside of your car, looking at Emily still was right by your side.

“Bring your boyfriend,” She commented, watching as you fished for your keys and unlocked your car. “I want to meet him, I haven’t really talked to you in a long time.”

“We’re both so busy. Him as well.”

“Seriously, Y/n, I’m not gonna ease up on you. I’ve noticed the new tint in your eye, new considering the last time it was severely dulled. It’s amazing to see your real smile again, you closer to your old self despite the past losses. He really has helped you, so I want to meet the man who helped my dear friend so much.”

You contemplated her kind words, getting down to the point that everyone probably was happy to see you again, yourself physically and mentally.

“I’ll call him, see if he can come. Can’t promise anything, his work is very important to him, so if it needs him he’s there.”

Emily smiled widely, leaning over to kiss your cheek before you moved to open the front door and start your car.

“Great, I’m actually bringing someone. Poor Spencer might be the only one.”

“Aaron is as well?”

“Hotch, yeah,” She laughed. “Meet her at some track meet he had, Jack really likes her.”

“That’s good, I’ll see you soon then,” You smiled, shutting the door as Emily watched you back out, waving a small goodbye.

Leaving the facility, while at a stop light, you found your flip phone, finding the contact of Jethro and quickly dialing the number.

“Gibbs,” He answered.

“Hey, are you on a case?”

“No, are you driving?”

“Yes, safely. What are you doing? Building a boat,” You chuckled, imagining him in the basement with the tool and sweaty shirt.

“Yeah. Did you meet up with your old team today?”

“Mhm, all surprised to see me today. It was humorous in a sense. But, Rossi invited me and everyone to a dinner, telling us to bring a partner.”

“Who are you planning on bringing?”

“You.”

“So, we’re being more public with our relationship?”

“Just with the old team, my old team, they don’t have contact with anyone apart of NCIS, or at least not personal only professional.”

“I thought you were going to come and see me, instead of making me drive,” You could almost sense his smile on the other line, a mocking one.

Gibbs would obviously accept the offer, the man truly holding a strong affection for you, a soft spot personally for you, so he would agree to drive the hour or two.

But just because he would, it doesn’t mean he didn’t have to mess around a bit, act like he wouldn’t.

“I know, but then you can see my new apartment. And after this weekend, who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again. Both of our jobs involved sporadic cases that start and end at no specific time, hard to plan around. And, everyone is pressuring me to meet you.”

“I’m already popular, huh?”

“I suppose,” You huffed, rubbing your temple, exhaustion starting to take over you, wanting to get some rest, a calming bath to combat earlier feelings that seemed as if they were creeping up once again.

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Get home safe, call me when you have the address and date.”

“Okay, bye.” You hung up, tossing the phone onto the empty seat as you continued to drive, playing the music from the CD already inserted in your car.

Time leading up to the dinner seemed to fly by, especially considering that it wasn’t much time and you weren’t having to work. You decided to take the free time to get fully settled in, figure out your nerves, make a phone call to your therapist, and even read. Trying to get prepared for all the days that are to come.

Your hair was now being changed from its normal du to a new one, fancier in a sense. Applying a nice coat of makeup, new lip color, trying a new pallet and the old eyelash curler that hasn’t been used in a while, you finished ‘upgrading’ your face. A outfit was simple, considering you didn’t have many fancy ones, so with not much to choose, it was a quick decision.

Sliding that on and fixing the straps to be a bit tighter, messing with the bra to fit correctly, and pulling it down a bit, you grabbed your go to purse, shoving needed materials a into it as you moved to the kitchen.

Within the kitchen, there was a certain door within the wall of the pantry with a password. Quickly typing in the combination the door swung open, choosing between a small but handy knife, you put in the pocket of your bag.

You weren’t too worried about dangers at the dinner, but with years of catching/fighting murders, specific people after you, and even very powerful assassins, you carried certain weapons for safety.

Hearing the sturdy knock of someone’s knuckles on your front door, you rushed to shut the the secret door in the pantry, heading to your front door where someone was waiting.

A quick peak through the hole, your eyes widened in surprise and opened the door, allowing the man to walk in.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, till uh, later tonight,” You mentioned, looking him up and down to see him more dressed up. “Are you not able to attend anymore?”

“No, I’m still going,” Hotch denied, sliding off his shoes and following you to the couch. “I just wanted to chat before than, a chance for just the two of us.”

“Is something wrong?” You walked over to your teapot, filling it with water, and placing it on your stove, heating up the water. “This is very unexpected.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you, see the apartment, hear what’s new with you.”

“Things,” You shrugged. “Obviously I’ve had a new job experience, similar in ways and also not. Grew closer with a new group of teammates, people, lost a few. Yeah, lost a few,” You repeated, remembering Jenny Shepard, even Kate, both amazing women, who did amazing things.

“That’s always hard, I guess my most recent loss was Haley,” Aaron hummed, soon the kettle making a high pitched noise, you rushing to take it off and grab some tea bags.

“She was also a amazing woman. Wonderful mother, cared so much for that little boy.”

“She really was.”

“Did you come to chat about her, it’s been a while since we had. Last time we really talked was five months after she passed, after the funeral.”

“It really has been that long?” Aaron questioned, taking the tea that you time handed him. “But it’s not the reason I came. I should have made more of a effort to keep in touch, after your transfer, after your loss.”

“You stayed with me for three months, allowing to lose some time with your son so you could change my dirty sheets and pick up all my snotty tissues,” You laughed, sitting down across from him with your own cup. “You had to get back to your family, make up for loss time.”

“You still helped me with my divorce during that time, and I still saw Jack,” He reminded you.

“I could’ve moved in with my father, but you allowed me not to do that.”

“Your father is a good man, but might not be the best to live with,” He laughed, a deep chuckle, something you didn’t see much. “You look nice.”

“Now you just notice,” You chuckle, taking another sip. “Thank you, you look nice as well. I was actually just going to call Jethro and tell him to meet me there, a bit of a drive and he isn’t happy about having to find a new team,” You spoke freely, feeling comfortable with the old friend, one you used to spill everything to years ago, him ranting to you too.

“Jethro? He has his own team? Sounds like a boss of some type.”

“Uh, technically. It’s complicated. I need to get going, to make it to the dinner on time and, finish, um, cleaning up my room before leaving.”

“I could take you there.”

“No thanks, I’ll see you there, bye.” You helped guide him to the door, a curt wave before he exited and shut it, locking it in a rush and moving back to the dining room table to clean the mugs.

You didn’t want to tell him all that, always insecure due to Gibbs being the prior boss of you and how people looked at that. Rumors were always spread about your and Aaron’s relationship, mostly about it being romantic.

Joining the team, you two easily hit it off due to your personalities. Always being filled with determination and stubbornness, refusing to give up till everything was done and right, even with files. Eventually you joined together, talked, spent most days with each other due to cases, and truly gained a very close friendship.

When rumors were getting around, glares were thrown your way, comments, left out by members who weren’t your immediate teams. People thought you were the cause of Haley and Aaron’s divorce, somehow word got around quickly, drama always does.

It was frustrating, already dealing with many different things at home, and even being in a relationship, it put so much unneeded stress and anxiety onto you.

So, getting into a relationship with Gibbs was a very reluctant thing on your part, he expressed his feelings first, but it was hard to accept them, despite the nerves he faced to do it.

Locking up the apartment, having all of your items with you, you made your way out the door and too your car, starting the drive to David’s house.

Upon arriving, you could hear light chatter in the home, lights on, and soothing music playing in the background. It sounded like everyone was having their fun, you couldn’t make out all the shadows of everyone indoors, just waiting outside for Jethro to arrive.

“Y/n?” You turned around at the sound of his voice, keys jingling in his hands as he walked up to you with a sly smile, shoving them in his pockets to place his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong, love?” Be snaked them around, a kiss to your somewhat clothed shoulder.

“Nothing, just a bit nervous to introduce you to everyone,” You smiled back at him, he squeezed a little tighter, catching your lips in a quick kiss. “Looking at your team, yet?”

“Nevermind that,” He grumbled, removing his hands to now interlace your left one with his right. “We should go in, right?”

“Maybe we could head back, to my place, say you are sick or something?” You looked back at him with a pleading look, to which he just chuckled at, starting to move to the front door, pressing the doorbell as you groaned a little.

“You’ll be fine,” He looked back at you as Rossi answered the door, cheerful smile on his lips, glass of scotch in hand as he moved out of the way to let you in.

“Ah! Y/n!” He cheered, leaning over to kiss your cheek and then pulled back. “Glad you made it! This must be…”

“Y/n! Oh where is the man?” Penelope rushed in, coming right by you with her own fruity drink, then leaning to whisper in your ear. “Is this him, oo!”

“Uh, Jethro that’s David,” You pointed to the man who first greeted you, him and Jethro shaking hands. “This is Penelope, the one kind of like Abby,” You smiled, as she gave you a little look, turning back and enveloping him in a little hug. She quickly turned back to you.

“He looks a little intimidating,” She whispered as you just laughed.

“For sure,” You nodded.

“Can I offer you a drink?” David turned to you two, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Something like Garcia for you Y/n, and what about you Jethro?”

“Just call me Gibbs, and yeah that’s fine,” He corrected Rossi, taking your hand as the two of you walked more inside of the magnificent house.

It truly was so well designed, very expensive, and the appetizers adorning the oak wood table looked very delicious. You wanted to go and grab a bite, before you were actually led to the living room where everyone was currently sitting.

“L/n, finally made it,” Derek laughed, beer in his hand as he pointed at you with a little chuckle. “You always know how to be a bit late.”

“Fashionably late, I believe that’s what it’s called,” JJ corrected them with her own wine glass in hand, Will sat right besides her on one of the couch as most of them in that room joined in laughter.

“What can I say?” You laughed, walking over, feeling less nervous with the factor of introducing your boyfriend, taking a seat on another couch in the large room, Jethro automatically sitting right besides you.

“So, introduce us,” Emily motioned over to Jethro, sly smile playing on her lips.

“This is Jethro, but he goes by Gibbs, and, uh, this is the team,” You started to name everyone off while pointing to them, leaving off a few names due to your members introducing their own partners to you.

Emily, Derek, and JJ had all brought partners. Spencer and Penelope decided to ‘go together’ as if they were partners, and Hotch hadn’t arrived yet. Rossi also had his girlfriend helping him cook in the kitchen, making drinks for you and Gibbs now.

“So, you work at NCIS, right?” Spencer questioned. “The Naval Criminal Investigative Service, very interesting considering the type of crimes you investigate. I would love to hear more about some of your cases and how you went about it,” Spencer smiled, a small notebook being pulled out of his pocket with a pen.

“Yeah,” Gibbs just nodded, looking at you a little questioning, which you just chuckled at.

“Why should we talk so much about work, it’s something we all do too much of,” You joked, everyone laughing, as Dave came back out, handing some drinks.

“Fine, fine, what do you do for fun Mr. Gibbs?” Derek asked, putting a arm over the couch and pulling his girl closer to his side, the woman just on her phone.

“I like to build boats, a type of hobbie I’ve been doing for years.”

“Building boats? Where?” Will wondered, intertwining his fingers with JJ.

“My basement, a private workspace.”

“How do you get it out then?” Penelope inquired, now back by Spencer and her face in her hand, leaning closer to show her interest in Gibbs statement.

“I’d be no fun if you knew that,” He shrugged, taking a drink with a small smile as Penelope gasped, Emily mouthing how ‘I like him’. It was sweet how everything was going well.

They all continued to converse with Gibbs, easily accepting him apart of the conversation, it was sweet and you were now on your second drink, practically all nerves gone.

“Sorry we’re late,” A voice mentioned in the hallway, dressed in a fine suit with a beautiful woman standing besides him. He shrugged off the last of his coat as he hung it up, taking her hand and walking into the hallway a little.

“This is such a nice place, Aaron. Oh! Your friend, wow, so grand,” The woman admired, now truly getting in your line of sight.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, eyes interlocking with yours before falling onto Gibbs. “I’m Aaron, call me Hotch.”

“I’m Gibbs,” Your boyfriend stood up, moving over to the other man with his hand stuck out. “Call me that.”

You had a feeling this evening wouldn’t be as smooth as you hoped.

——————

taglist - @wolviesbabes @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

(comment to be added, or a tag list for all my gibbs post)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,247 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: language, some fighting, that's it! A/N: Jealous!Daryl Dixon? YES PLEASE. Summary: Daryl finds himself in a bad mood when Y/N is asked to attend a community event by a local man.

Your name: submit What is this?

“What the hell are you two gigglin’ about over here?” Daryl asked, emerging from his space down in the basement. Maggie and Rosita spun immediately and they seemed to clam up a bit, exchanging a look with one another which only furthered the archer’s curiosity. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Maggie said.

“Uh huh, that’s real believable,” he mumbled. “Ya’ll goin’ to this bonfire tonight?” he asked.

“There’s supposed to be booze and food, so I’m in,” Rosita laughed. Maggie nodded.

“Glenn and I are planning to go for a little while. Rick still wants us all to try. Even though it does feel a little silly considering what’s goin’ on outside.”

Daryl scoffed. “Silly is right. Feels like we’re playin’ pretend while the world is on fire,” he said, withdrawing a cigarette and fishing into his pocket for his lighter.

“You’re clean,” Maggie commented. “You look nice,” she said.

Daryl simply avoided her eyes and changed the subject. “Who else is goin’?” he drawled.

Maggie and Rosita exchanged another look.

“What?” Daryl prodded again, increasingly annoyed.

Rosita cleared her throat and sank down on a stool at the kitchen island. “I think pretty much all of us. Carol, Abraham…” She left a long pause until Maggie nudged her with her elbow and gave her a pointed look. “Oh, yeah. Right. Y/N is going. Apparently, someone from here asked her to go with him.” The two women carefully watched Daryl’s expression.

“Mmm,” he hummed, averting his eyes as he felt his stomach twist. Maggie thought she saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth.

“That’s it? ‘Mmm’?” Rosita said, a small smirk on her face.

Daryl glared at her. “The hell am I supposed to say?” he growled, feeling a hot swelling of jealousy rise up in his chest. He breezed past her to the front door and was reaching for the knob when you were suddenly there at the bottom of the stairs, almost bumping into him.

“Oh! Sorry,” you said with a nervous laugh. You felt your face grow warm with a bit of a blush. You were rushing to ask Maggie and Rosita what the hell you should wear to the bonfire for your—date? Was it a date? You didn’t know what to call it. In any case, you hadn’t expected to quite literally almost run into Daryl.

He had to try really hard not to blatantly look you up and down. You looked stunning, freshly showered and dressed in your own sensible style, standing there looking a bit nervous. “S’alright,” he said, backing up toward the front door to get out of your way.

You noticed that he was in clean clothes and his brown hair was clean and shiny. He’d obviously showered and tidied up. You gave him a small and somewhat bashful smile and breezed past him into the kitchen. Daryl quickly let himself out onto the porch and sank down on the top step, flicking his lighter and fiddling with the cigarette in his fingers, but not lighting it. Inside, he could hear Maggie and Rosita’s jovial voices and loud laughter.

You all had hardly been in Alexandria a month and some guy already had the balls to ask ya out? Daryl felt another swell of jealousy and suspicion. He really wanted to know who the hell this guy was…

“You look amazing,” Maggie said with a wide grin, taking in your outfit and smooth and shiny hair. “Really. It’s perfect.”

“His jaw is going to hit the floor,” Rosita said. You gave her a skeptical look.

“You’re really making way too big a deal out of this. It’s just a bonfire,” you said, glancing down at your clothes. “It’s nothing. I don’t even know if it’s fair to call it a date,” you said. “I don’t know if I even want to call it that.”

“Why not?” Maggie asked. “He seems plenty nice.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, he seems to be... It’s just… he’s a complete stranger practically. And it’s just been us for so long.”

Rosita laughed. “No one is telling you to marry him. Just go and have a good time… and if it feels right,” she gave you a suggestive look and laughed when your jaw dropped open.

“Stop!” you scolded her, eliciting loud laughter and an appreciative grin from Maggie.

Rosita grinned. “What?! I’m just saying! Like you said, it’s been just us, just you for so long!” You rolled your eyes and sighed at her. “You’re ridiculous,” you said.

“That’s why you love me,” she said. “Now go and finish getting ready. He’ll be here to pick you up in like a half an hour.”

“Wear that black jacket you have!” Maggie shouted after you as you headed back toward the stairs.

“Okay!” you called over your shoulder. You caught sight of Daryl’s broad shoulders as you passed the front window and you felt a sort of empty, sinking feeling in the middle of your chest, right between your lungs. Sometimes you’d wondered if there was some spark with the stoic archer. You were definitely attracted to him, but he’d never made any explicit sign that maybe he was interested in you. At least, none that you had noticed or admitted to yourself… You were quite adept at denial. But what you couldn’t deny was the leap your heart did every time your name left his lips with that easy southern drawl and how the air always seemed to be charged and crackling with electricity when you found yourself alone with him. You sighed and climbed the stairs. Oh, well. Rosita was right. You’d just go to the bonfire and try to have a good time, see how it felt.

Daryl was still outside on the porch, finally smoking his last cigarette when he saw a figure coming down the street. He was tall, with neatly trimmed brown hair, and had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He noticed Daryl as he came up the front walk and gave him a tight smile.

“Hey,” the guy said. “You must be Daryl, right?” he said, holding out his hand.

But Daryl just eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t think we’ve ever met,” he said, putting the butt of his cigarette out underneath his boot. The guy finally let his proffered hand drop a little awkwardly.

“No, we haven’t, but I’ve heard about you. From Y/N and Aaron. You’re going out to find people with him, right?”

Daryl’s blue eyes were still narrowed, trying to get a read on this guy and he simply nudged his nose up once in a nod and hummed a noise of acknowledgement.

“Right. That’s—that’s great. I hope you can find some more people out there who need help.”

Daryl didn’t respond and just let the silence stretch longer than it was comfortable.

The guy cleared his throat and awkwardly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, um—I’m here to see Y/N. Is she inside?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the front door.

Daryl straightened up and walked over to it before pushing inside and leaving it standing wide open behind him. He headed straight for his space in the basement without another word, but he heard the guy let out a hesitant “Y/N?” from the entryway as he descended the stairs.

He couldn’t stand the thought of watching you come down and leave with this guy, seeing the bright smile that would probably light up your face like it always did. He sulked for a while, sitting on the edge of his bed before finally deciding that you had probably both left by now. The archer climbed the stairs again and met Glenn in the hallway, heading toward the front door.

“Hey,” Glenn greeted him cheerfully. “You heading to this thing?”

“Guess so,” Daryl said, his expression a little uncertain.

“Maggie and the others already went ahead. I’m heading over there now. You coming?”

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding and chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. “Alright.”

As he and Glenn headed toward the center of town, Daryl could already hear loud conversation and laughter and he wondered why the hell he was even going to this thing at all… But your face popped up in his mind and he knew he wanted to make sure that you’d be alright, make sure this guy wasn’t up to no good… Not that you needed his help. You were plenty capable on your own but… just in case, he told himself.

“Come on. Let’s grab a drink and then find everybody,” Glenn said. Daryl followed him through the crowd of people milling around. The noise was overwhelming and immediately Daryl wished he was almost anywhere but there. Glenn pushed a beer into his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. “This is weird, right?” he said, glancing around.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed. “Feel like I’m in a goddamn Hallmark movie or some shit.”

Glenn let out a sardonic laugh and nodded. “Yeah… Oh, hey. There they are.” He tilted his head toward the edge of the circle of illumination from the fire and lanterns. Daryl followed him in silence, edging past people he felt were all glancing at him like he was some kind of criminal. He could have been imagining it, but then again, maybe he wasn’t.

He stood quietly with Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham as they talked. Each of them just sipped their drinks. Occasionally, silences would fall that were heavy with unspoken thoughts and memories that contrasted so sharply with the scene they now found themselves in that it was unbalancing.

Eventually Daryl broke off using the excuse of getting another drink and he let his eyes scan the crowd for you. He finally spotted you sitting across from the guy who had picked you up at a picnic table, a plastic cup in your hand. He was talking to you animatedly and you were nodding along, occasionally responding with a smile or a few words. Daryl thought you looked… bored? Or was that just wishful thinking?

He was kicking himself at that moment, realizing just exactly how much he really cared about you, and how he truly couldn’t stand the thought of you ending up with someone else. Especially, this guy. Looking at him Daryl had a feeling he wouldn’t know what the fuck to do if a walker or some living asshole came at him. It’s your own damn fault. He heard it in his own mind. If he wasn’t such a goddamn coward he would have told you by now that he thought you were the most amazing person he’d ever met.

His mood significantly darkened, Daryl made his way back over to the refreshment table and grabbed another beer. He came to stand at the edge of the circle of light again and lit up a cigarette, allowing himself to glance over at you occasionally, trying to read your expression.

“Hey.”

Daryl turned to see Abraham beside him suddenly. He followed Daryl’s gaze and spotted you sitting across from your “date”. “Here,” he said, nudging Daryl’s shoulder gently with a bottle of bourbon. “I’m sure you could use this,” he said.

Daryl gave him a questioning look and Abraham only nodded. “You really gonna argue this point? Come on,” he said, shaking the bottle again. “I know love sickness when I see it.” The strong military man sighed. “I’ve seen it on myself in the mirror.”

“I ain’t—”

“Call it whatever you want, but stop lying to me about it. And to yourself,” he said.

Daryl gave him an uncomfortable look but accepted the bottle of liquor and drank deeply from it before passing it back.

“Yeah,” Abraham said, taking another pull himself. “Life’s shitty sometimes. But it’s shittier if you sit on your ass.”

The two men stood side by side, passing the bottle for quite some time and it wasn’t long before they were both pretty drunk.

“Man, fuck this,” Daryl drawled, tossing his cigarette down and putting it out with his boot. If you hadn’t been sitting with a stranger, the archer would have surely left by now. But he couldn’t bear the thought of laying on his bed back at the house and wondering if you were still with him, if you were home yet. What if you went home with that guy? Daryl’s stomach twisted again with jealousy. “I’m gonna go get another beer. Ya want one?” he asked Abraham, who shook his head. He was even more drunk than Daryl and mumbled something before wandering away back toward Rosita and the others.

Daryl wove his way through the crowd, his eyes ahead on the table of refreshments. He grabbed another beer and popped the top when he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he saw Deanna’s son Aiden and a few of his cronies eyeing him. Aiden said something to Nicholas that made them all burst out into laughter, and Daryl had the distinctive feeling that it was something derogatory about him. He felt like his blood was about to boil.

The archer strode over to them, already knowing this was a bad idea, but at the moment, with the toxic mixture of jealousy and bourbon coursing through his bloodstream, he wanted to pick a fight. “The hell ya staring at?” he demanded, getting right up in Aiden’s face.

A little smug smirk grew on Aiden’s face. “Nothing,” he said. “No, literally nothing. I mean, you’re nothing. Why don’t you get the hell out of here and head back to whatever trailer park you crawled out of? Nobody wants you here.” This was born of booze and arrogance too.

Back at the picnic table, you laughed politely at some little remark and spun your drink in your hands a little anxiously, glancing down into the amber liquid inside the red plastic cup and feeling distinctly out of place. It had been a long time since you’d been on anything even resembling a date but… was this how it was supposed to feel? You didn’t feel at ease at all. And you weren’t even really enjoying yourself. You were—there was no other word for it—bored.

You suddenly realized he had just asked you a question and you glanced back up. “Sorry? Say that again?”

“Oh, just… your group. You were out there since the beginning pretty much?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm. Most of us found each other not too long after everything really went to shit.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine. I was pretty much in here since it happened.” There was a thoughtful pause before he went on. “What was it like out there? I mean, what was it really like? Those of us on the inside hear a little bit from Aiden and those guys who do the supply runs, but you can never really tell how much is true and how much he’s embellishing.”

You stared at him for a long moment. He seemed completely clueless that he was asking you to dive into a topic that was wrought with a lot of trauma, not something you even talked about with most of the people in your group. You gulped and avoided his eyes. “It’s, um… hard to talk about. We—we lost people out there.”

He seemed to realize based on your response that he had dug too deep too fast, realized his mistake, and was immediately apologetic. “Oh, God. What was I thinking? I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have asked you that. I—”

But a commotion suddenly drew your attention and you looked up just in time to see Daryl wind a fist back and punch Aiden squarely in the face. He dropped like a lead weight and you jumped to your feet, your jaw dropped open. “Shit… I—I’m sorry. Excuse me—sorry,” you said hurriedly. You left him behind and immediately rushed straight over into the fray.

Aiden was on the ground with blood pouring out of his nose and three of his friends were immediately on Daryl, who was trying to shake them off. You were there in an instant.

“Get off him!” you yelled, pushing Nicholas off the archer. “Everybody just stop!” you yelled over the commotion.

Daryl was still raging, trying to get back to Aiden and grappling with the two other men holding him back. “Ya better keep looking over your shoulder, ya fuckin’ asshole!” he roared.

You could easily hear the drunken slur in his voice and smell the whiskey on him. The other men had obviously been drinking heavily too. Now Rick and Glenn were rushing over, trying to squeeze their way through the crowd. “Daryl! DARYL! Stop!” you moved in front of him and pressed your hands to his chest. “Daryl!” For the first time he realized you were there and he froze immediately, suddenly overwhelmed with worry that you’d get hurt in the chaos if he kept fighting. He stilled and you pulled your hands off his broad chest, trying your hardest to ignore the heat you suddenly felt in your face. You watched his chest heaving with exertion and caught his blue eyes. “Just stop,” you said, more gently this time. You turned to look at the men still hanging onto him and glared at them. “Let him go.” Neither of them moved. “I said fuck off!” you yelled, pushing one of them off Daryl. The other one released Daryl’s other arm and turned to help Aiden to his feet.

“What the hell is going on?” Rick asked in an angry undertone. “Daryl,” he growled, giving him a sharp look.

“S’nothin’. Forget it. Just a buncha assholes,” Daryl drawled. “M’outta here.”

Glenn sighed heavily, clearly realizing how drunk Daryl was. “I’ll walk back with him,” he said to Rick in an undertone. Rick stalked off, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head.

“I’ve got it,” you said to Glenn. “Just—stay with Maggie and try to enjoy yourselves, okay?”

Glenn glanced cautiously at Daryl who was still staring daggers after Aiden and his crew as they walked away. “Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to be out with somebody?” Glenn asked you, quiet enough so Daryl wouldn’t hear him.

“Yeah, but—” you shrugged. “I’ve got him,” you insisted.

Glenn hesitated but finally nodded and headed back over to Maggie.

You touched Daryl lightly on the arm. “Hey. Come on. Let’s go home, alright? Those guys are dicks. It’s not worth it.”

Daryl glanced down at the spot where your fingers had rested on his arm a moment before. He’d felt a zap of electricity when you touched him. His eyes drifted up to your face and although they were a little bleary you thought you saw a softness in them that was startling considering the anger that had been there a moment before. Finally, he nodded.

“Good. Okay. Umm… Just wait for me over there a sec, okay? I’ll be right there,” you said.

“Where ya goin’?” Daryl asked, his brow drawing down low over his blue eyes.

“I just need to get my jacket. It’ll only take a sec.”

Daryl glanced back over at the guy you’d been sitting with, who was now standing next to the picnic table, his eyes fixed in your direction. “Alright,” he said.

You nodded and watched Daryl walk off, a little unsteadily. You made your way back over toward the picnic table and gave your date a tight smile. “Sorry. I’ve gotta go,” you said apologetically, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m gonna make sure Daryl gets home alright and see if he’s okay. He’s pretty drunk...”

He looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay. That’s too bad… but I understand.” He glanced over at Daryl, who was now waiting impatiently just a short distance away. “I can’t blame him for hitting Aiden.”

You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes. “Yeah… Let’s hope that’s the end of it. Honestly, Aiden is lucky Daryl’s drunk. Would have been much worse if he wasn’t,” you said. “Anyway, umm, I’ll see you around,” you said a bit awkwardly. You bent to grab your jacket from the bench and when you straightened up, he was standing quite close to you.

“This was really nice,” he said. “I hope we can see each other again.”

You were trying to formulate a gentle rejection in your mind, gathering the words to say something like “It’s not you. It’s me.” when suddenly his hand landed on your waist and the other pressed onto your lower back. You realized he was going to try to kiss you. You opened your mouth to speak and started to pull away, but before you could get any words out Daryl was suddenly there and pushed him off you forcefully.

“The hell are ya doin’?! Can’t ya tell she didn’t want that?” he roared. “The fuck is wrong with you?!”

You felt your face burning with heat. “Daryl!” you yelled at him, snapping his eyes back to your face. The archer watched your jaw clench angrily. “We’re leaving. Now.” You cast a brief glance at your date but were too embarrassed to hold his eyes for very long. “I’m—sorry,” you mumbled. You turned on your heel and got the hell out of there as fast as you could. You could sense that Daryl was right behind you.

You pulled on your jacket as you reached the sidewalk and turned to look at Daryl. His blue eyes were already on you as you turned around. “What the hell is the matter with you?” you snapped at him. “What the fuck was that?”

He stopped abruptly and stared at you, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Did I read the situation wrong? Ya wanted to kiss that guy?” he growled.

You scoffed. “No, but I didn’t need you to burst in there and shove him off me! I can handle myself! First, you’re hammered, then you pick that fight with Aiden and those guys, and then this? What is the matter with you tonight?!” You stared at him, bewildered.

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip and let out a huff before striding past you on the sidewalk. “Nothin’,” he growled.

You let out a noise of frustration and rushed after him, falling in beside him and racing to keep up with his long strides.

“Sorry I ruined your night,” he said. There was a sharp flintiness in his voice. Daryl’s stomach twisted again with jealousy. “Ya can go back. I dun need a babysitter.”

He’d hardly finished saying it when he stumbled a bit on a slightly uneven part of the sidewalk and you reflexively grabbed onto him to steady him. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You sure about that?”

Daryl gulped at the sensation of your hands on him and ducked his head. He slowed his pace a little and you walked side by side again. It was silent for a short time and the air between the two of you was tense.

“So… do you want to tell me why you decided you needed to get shitfaced and pick a fight?” you asked him, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed a noise of acknowledgement. “Who says I started it anyway?”

“You are the one who punched Aiden in the face,” you pointed out, giving him a look.

“He was askin’ for it.”

You nodded and sighed. “I don’t actually doubt that. But it’s not like you to drink this much. What’s going on?”

He ignored the question. You’d now arrived back at the house and Daryl started up the steps cautiously, feeling that his balance was not so great. He’d made it two steps up when he started to pitch backwards and you rushed to grab onto him again. “Whoa, whoa!” Your hands flew around him and landed on his sides. He steadied but you still didn’t release your gentle hold on him. You were standing a step higher than he was and it put your eyes almost right in line with his. You could feel the tension in his muscles beneath your fingers and the thin cotton of his shirt. You felt like you were suddenly paralyzed, yours eyes connected. Daryl watched your lips part slightly, and he felt like he was being drawn in. You gulped, feeling suddenly nervous and overwhelmed at the tingling and warmth that was suddenly radiating through you.

Finally, you blinked a few times, your eyelashes fluttering as you came to your senses, almost as if out of a daze. You tried your best to ignore the butterflies that you now felt in your stomach. You moved beside him and wrapped an arm around his back. “Okay. Easy. I’d rather not have to take you to Denise for a broken bone,” you said softly. It seemed like your anger with him had suddenly evaporated.

Daryl was still staring at you beside him and the sensation of your hands intimately on his sides a moment before, even if it just had been to steady him, had him reeling. Even your arm around him was sending sparks up his spine.

He allowed you to lead him into the house. You broke from him to fill a glass of water up in the kitchen and Daryl watched you with an urgent desire growing in his chest. His thoughts were interrupted as you nudged your head in the direction of the living room.

“Come on,” you said quietly. Daryl trailed behind you and sank down heavily on the couch. You set the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing a seat in the oversized arm chair nearby.

Daryl was leaned forward staring down at his hands, elbows on his knees, fighting an internal battle between wanting to tell you everything that had been on his mind since that guy showed up at the house to pick you up and knowing that he was was drunk and that perhaps now wasn’t the time… Finally, he resolved to keep his mouth shut and simply downed the glass of water before flopping back and stretching out on the couch. The ceiling wavered before his eyes and he planted a boot on the floor to ground himself and try to offset the nauseating spinning feeling.

You leaned your chin on your elbow and sighed, staring at him as he laid on the couch and wondering what the hell had gotten into him. He’d been silent for a while and based on the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest you could tell he was asleep.

You got up and quietly tiptoed over to, unlacing and pulling off his boots as gently as you could. Not gently enough, however, for the always vigilant archer. Daryl shot upright on the couch and gave you a somewhat startled look. You were frozen, kneeling beside him, and he registered his boot in your hand. You gave him an apologetic glance before discarding it on the floor next to the other one. “Sorry. Go back to sleep,” you said, straightening up. Daryl’s eyes followed you as went and grabbed a blanket from a nearby basket. His eyes were still on you when you turned around and approached him again, hesitating at the queer expression on his face. “What is it? Are you okay?” you asked him.

Daryl nodded almost imperceptibly and flopped down again on his back.

You unfolded the blanket and were draping it over him when you felt his blue eyes still fixed on your face. You met them and gave him another questioning look, taken aback by the softness in them.

“Yer beautiful,” he drawled quietly.

You straightened up in surprise, your stomach flipping as you registered his words. You bashfully avoided his eyes and adjusted the blanket over him. “You’re drunk,” you murmured.

“Dun mean I’m lyin’.”

You gulped at the nervous tightness in your throat from his words and gave him a long look. Daryl’s eyes flickered between your lips and the endless hues in your eyes. “Get some sleep, Daryl,” you said gently, turning to sink into the armchair again and puzzling over the archer.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning, Daryl awoke with a nightmare of a headache. When he sat up on the couch, getting his bearings, he felt the blanket slip off him and remembered how you’d covered him over with it and pulled off his shoes. His heart jumped at the memory of your hands steadying him.

He glanced over and you were still asleep, curled up in the big stuffed chair. Daryl got up and grabbed the blanket, crossing the space as silently as he could and draping the blanket over you before heading for the front door.

He leaned his forearms on the railing, kicking himself for getting so drunk the night before. Not because of his hangover, however, but because you probably now thought he was an idiot.

He sighed heavily and chewed the side of his thumbnail, lost in his thoughts. After a while, he headed back inside and grabbed a quick shower before flopping down on his bed in the basement, fiddling with a bolt for his crossbow.

“Daryl?”

Your voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.

He sat up on the edge of his bed. “Ya?”

“Um. Can I come down?”

“Of course,” he hollered back at you. Your soft steps sounded on the stairs and soon you emerged through the doorway. You looked luminous, even in the dimness of his basement space. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said. “How are you feeling?” you asked kindly.

He let out a scoff. “Hungover. But that’s what I get for being a dumbass,” he drawled, still twirling the bolt between his fingers.

You gave him a sympathetic look. “You’re not a dumbass,” you said.

He gave you a long look. “Ya here to yell at me again?” he asked, one corner of his mouth twitched up so you could tell he was only half-serious.

“No,” you said, moving closer and standing directly in front of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip a little anxiously, feeling his heart beating faster with you standing so close now. In fact, he was exceedingly nervous with you there in his space. During late sleepless nights, ge’d imagined you there with him but he didn’t think you’d ever even really come downstairs. He hazarded another glance at you. “M’sorry I ruined yer night.”

You shook your head, your eyebrows drawing down low over your eyes. “You didn’t.”

He gave you a questioning look. “But ya had to leave cuz of me.”

You nodded and surprised him by coming to sit close next to him on the edge of his bed. “Yeah. But that’s okay. I wasn’t having a good time anyway.” You glanced around his space, feeling your heart flutter with nerves being alone with Daryl. It was quintessentially Daryl. His crossbow was leaning up against the nightstand and there were layers of richly colored blankets draped on his bed. Little bits of collected treasures were set on a shelf nearby—deer antlers, brightly colored leaves, glistening fragments of mica. Being in his space down there, tucked away from the rest of the house, felt strangely intimate.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed in acknowledgement. He gathered every bit of courage he could muster. “Ya asked me why I drank so much.”

You caught his blue eyes again and nodded as your heart skipped a beat.

“I was—I was jealous…” He nervously licked his lips and stared down at his hands, afraid that he’d see rejection in your eyes. “Soon as that guy came to pick you up I was just—pissed off. And I ain’t got no right to be. I’ve wasted so much time instead of just tellin’ ya—”

You were holding your breath now. “Tell me what?” you said, not intending for it to come out in a whisper, but it did.

Daryl gulped and continued. “Tellin’ ya that—” He forced his eyes to yours and drank in the inquisitive and somewhat puzzled expression on your face. “—I think you’re the most amazin’ person I’ve ever met. And I don’t want ya to be with anyone but me.” He braced himself for your reaction, feeling suddenly sick and anticipating a gentle rejection.

But when he looked up again your eyes were just a little wide with surprise.

“Well, Christ, Y/N,” he drawled, held in suspense. “Just at least say somethin’.”

“I—I’m sorry. I’m just—Daryl,” you said. There was happy laughter in your voice and you broke into a brilliant smile that sent his heart skipping a beat again. “You never—I mean, I didn’t think you were interested in me like that.”

Daryl was cautiously optimistic based on your reaction and he ducked his head. “Yeah, well I… I ain’t good enough for ya. And I didn’t know how to—” He shook some hair out of his eyes and glanced back over at you. “Anybody would be an idiot not to want ya and it wasn’t until that guy yesterday showed up that I realized that means eventually somebody else might—” He broke off as you suddenly climbed to your feet and moved around in front of him.

His knees were angled wide enough apart that you were able to step in close to him. Daryl studied the somewhat pained but soft expression on your face and a blaze of warmth grew in his chest as you brushed his hair away from his face and clasped it gently. “Not good enough for me?” You shook your head. “Daryl. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. And I’ve been crazy about you almost since day 1. I just didn’t think you wanted—”

His arm looped around you, his hand flattening out on your lower back and drawing you in closer. His other hand went lightly to your face, his fingers tangling into your hair. He hesitated only one more moment, his eyes flitting between yours and then down to the soft pout of your lips, before he pulled you the rest of the way into him and kissed you hungrily.

You hummed a noise of pleasure into his lips and looped your arms around his neck, arching against his strong chest, kissing him back feverishly, hardly believing this was happening. Daryl could feel you smiling into the kiss and after several long moments of heated bliss it softened and you pulled back, but just slightly. Daryl watched as your eyes flitted open again. There was a rosy glow in the apples of your cheeks and a soft smile on your face. The light in your eyes was staggering. You pressed a hand flat against his chest and felt the urgent racing of his heart.

“You never said anything,” you whispered.

He shrugged, not releasing his arms from around you. He didn’t know if he ever would. “Ya didn’t either,” he pointed out. His hands smoothed down your sides and landed lightly on your hips. He focused on the feeling of you beneath his fingers.

Your smile grew wider as you looked into his strikingly blue eyes. You gently clasped his face again and ran your fingers over the stubble on his jaw. “Still feel hungover?” you asked.

“Umm,” he chewed his bottom lip and shook his head, not taking his eyes off yours. “Nah. Not at all anymore.”

“Good.” You crashed your lips into his again, relishing the feeling of his hands smoothing over your back and lightly gripping your hips. Daryl pulled you tightly against him, like even though you were already pressed together it wasn’t close enough. Your lips moved effortlessly with his and the gentle trailing of his fingertips down your spine sent electricity running over your skin.

He clasped your face in both hands and his kisses softened again until you finally broke apart, staring right into those blue eyes you loved so much.

“You know I don’t want you to think that getting drunk and punching people magically gets you what you want,” you breathed, a sparkle of teasing in your eyes. “Don’t make a habit out of it.”

“What else could I possibly want?” he drawled.

You grinned at him, giving him that megawatt smile, before leaning into him and kissing him again.

[caretaker-au]

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

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[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[urfavbooblover]

Sweet kiss || Ashley Brown x female/non-male reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

(remind me if I missed any)

- Until dawn: masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

After Chris decided to safe Ashley, in the shed, we met Emily and Matt on our way out. I’m so glad, I didn’t lose her, she’s my crush after all. But now Josh is fucking dead. I had to watch him get killed, it’s a horrible image I can’t get out of my head anymore.

We told them both what happened and Emily suggested we should get some help. But Sam was still in the lodge and probably needs our help, when a maniac is out there. So we split up. Emily and Matt are going to get help and Ashley, Chris and I are going back to lodge.

Ashley was still slightly crying, so I hugged her on our way back, helping her to calm down. As we arrived, Chris opened the door for us, and and we walked in. We headed to the basement, and walked to the cinema room. Chris entered it, but before I could take another step, the door suddenly got jacked closed. “Fuck, who did this?!”, I exclaimed as Ash lets out a squeal.

“Guys? Are you there?”, Chris asked. “Yes, the door closed by itself, can you open it?” He tried, but failed. “It won’t open!” Shit we need to find Sam. “What are we gonna do know?”, Ashley questioned. “I’m going to find Sam, you guys stay where you are!”, Chris said.

“Are you sure you will be fine?”, “Yes, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” I let out a sigh and turned around to face Ash. “Let’s sit down on the stairs.”, I suggested. The stairs aren’t so comfortable, but it would be better not to leave this room.

“So... are we just going to wait?”, Ash spoke up. “I guess so, we have no other choice.” It was silent for a moment, before Ashley got up fast from the stairs, looking down at me. Then speaking up once again. “I can’t hide this any longer Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?” She fiddles with her fingers and continued to talk. “I-I wanted to tell you for so long, but I was scared what you would say…”, “I l-like you Y/N… more than a friend.” I stared at her with disbelief for moment, while she looked down at the ground.

I got up from my spot and walked up to her. I tilted her chin up, staring in her eyes for a bit, before I leaned in. I pressed my lips against hers and took her face in my hands. Our lips moved slowly against each other while she grabbed the back of my head.

We broke apart to catch our breaths as I took her hand into mine. “I like you too Ash.”, I smiled. “Well, I didn’t expect that…”, she shyly said.

“Why? What do you mean?”, “Well, I thought you would never like someone like me.”, “Ash, you’re literally perfect just the way you are. You might not see what others do, but I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Inside and outside.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better about myself…”, she muttered, staring at the ground again. “Stop thinking so bad about yourself, I know it can be hard to truly accept and love yourself, but I would never lie to you.”

A smile formed on her face, as she threw herself in my arms. “Thank you for always being there for me Y/N.”, “Of course, hun.”

“Does that mean… we’re together now…?”, she rather unsure asked. “If that’s what you want too, then you’re my girlfriend from now on.” She laughed and nodded her head. “I would like to be your girlfriend.”

It feels kinda wrong to do this after what happened, but we needed to get this off our chests, before it’s too late, and we might die this night.

After our little talk, we decided to look for a way to open the door. We can’t forget about what seriously is going on right now. Just waiting and sitting around is after realizing not good at all.

So I broke down the door and we quickly tried to find Chris.

____________________________________________

Sorry, it’s a bit short. But I still hope you enjoyed reading this small imagine :)

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 26/2021) - L’Sandburg

Foolish and Puffy are both reeling from the events of the Red Banquet. Foolish confronts a familiar foe in his mind while Puffy works through her grief.

After Foolish’s lore, Bad, Antfrost, Purpled, HBomb and Foolish get involved in a new conflict, as Bad declares his  walled-off tollbooth on Foolish’s road a new nation called “L’Sandburg.” Foolish, mad that Bad would attempt to occupy a spot on his land, intervenes. Bad ends up declaring war.

Later, after things settle, Puffy is invited to L’Sandburg but instead attempts to take over the nation, declaring it “L’Puffburg.”

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Captain Puffy

---

- There’s a flashback to the Red Banquet from Foolish’s perspective, watching as Puffy and Antfrost argue.

- As Foolish dies, the screen goes black. The Egg speaks.

"YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME AGAIN.”

- Foolish gasps and wakes in the green beacon light within the Temple of Undying. He’s confused -- he’s immortal. But that was different.

The Egg makes noises, then speaks -- but not in reverse.

“I...am..in your mind...”

“I am IN YOUR SOUL.”

“No, no no no no, this is -- this is just tricks! Games! This is just something new!”

“IT IS NOT A TRICK.”

“Is this -- is this the Egg? It’s tough to forget a voice like that.”

“CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT. I HAVE MANY NAMES AS YOU KNOW, BUT YOU’VE FORGOTTEN.”

“What do you mean? No no no, I have never heard you before, it wasn’t that long ago that I first met you. You’re something new, something I’ve never met before.”

“I AM AN ANCIENT ONE. EVEN MORE ANCIENT THAN YOU.”

“So I guess...I guess I was wrong -- I’m not afraid of you! Even after all that, I am still not afraid.”

“AFRAID? YOU ARE TRULY FOOLISH IF YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE STRONGER THAN ME! YOU SHOULD BE AFRAID.”

“Maybe...maybe I had it wrong. Maybe I thought I was stronger. But...but I’m still here! I’m still here. And where are you? How’d that Banquet go?”

“FOOLISH...WHEN WE MET, YOU SAID YOU FEARED NOTHING. BUT NOW? I CAN SENSE YOUR FEAR, FOOLISH.”

“No...no.”

“YOU FEAR DEATH ITSELF, DON’T YOU?”

“No, no...you don’t know! You don’t know anything about me!”

“I...KNOW WHO YOU ARE...EVEN THOUGH...YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN SOME OF WHAT YOU ARE.”

“And? Enlighten me, tell me something. Tell me something that only I would know!”

“I KNOW...OF YOUR SECRET PLACE THAT YOU HAVE TOLD OF NO OTHER!”

“Be more specific.”

“FOOLISH...I KNOW WHAT YOU KEEP IN THERE. FOOLISH...”

“You could be lying. Where?”

“HOW CAN I BE LYING, WHEN I CAN HEAR YOUR VERY THOUGHTS?”

“How do I get you out of my head? I’m not -- you’re still trying to get me to join your side, that’s not gonna happen!”

“FOOLISH...YOU ARE WEAK! FOOLISH. YOU ARE CAPABLE OF SO MUCH MORE! BUT YOU CHOOSE PEACE. AND YOU WASTE YOUR DAYS BUILDING...PATHETIC. YOU HAVE MORE POWER THAN YOU KNOW.”

“No...no, you have it wrong! I’ve tried that, okay? I’ve tried power in the past and it doesn’t work! It doesn’t work. You can’t just use overwhelming force. It worked for short term at best.”

“POWER! POWER IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS, FOOLISH! YOU OF ALL SHOULD KNOW THAT. HOW ELSE CAN YOU SAVE YOURSELF FROM DYING, FOOLISH?”

“You think...you think I’m weak? You think there’s strength -- there’s strength in what I do! Let me explain to you. Let me explain to you why I build.”

“Before, I was reckless and wild. I used to believe wielding godlike powers and a sword gave me some sort of control. But it all led me down a path of violence, and anger, mistrust. I can’t control the actions of the world through overwhelming power. It doesn’t work, just doesn’t. But building provides two important elements in my life. Creation and control...”

- Foolish walks back to the mainland as the Egg continues to speak with him.

- Foolish heads to Church Prime as the Egg keeps asking to join him. It says that it knows about Foolish’s deal with Ranboo.

“Hm. So maybe you do know something. Which is all the more reason I need to be rid of you. And you can go back to whatever dark abyss of the Nether you came from!”

“FOOLISH, STOP. WHY ARE WE FIGHTING? IT’S NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU TO JOIN ME. I WILL MAKE YOU STRONG AGAIN. DEEP DOWN YOU MISS THE POWER YOU ONCE HELD. 

GO BACK TO BEING A TOTEM OF DEATH, AND TOGETHER, WE CAN RULE AND CREATE PEACE. PEACE IS WHAT YOU WANT. RIGHT, FOOLISH?”

- Foolish tells the Egg it doesn’t work that way. The Egg says it can and it will. Foolish asks if it has any last words.

“I AM A PART OF YOU, FOOLISH. YOU CANNOT GET RID OF ME.”

“No...then I mean this in the most polite way possible...”

“Go to Hell.”

- Foolish submerges himself in the waters of Church Prime as the Egg shouts. When he emerges, it’s gone.

- He wonders if anyone is still alive from the Banquet. He walks down the Prime Path, not understanding why he’s afraid of death.

“There was that brief second before that sword...I don’t see beauty in mortality.”

- He jumps down into the spider spawner and makes his way down the hallway, but he hesitates. He needs to calm down.

- Foolish heads back home. Did the Egg know better than him? Is it saying things that he’s afraid to admit? 

- He makes it back to the temple, wondering if it’s really safe. Even if he can die, why is he so afraid? 

- He opens the secret door and walks down the staircase. He still doesn’t fault the members of the Eggpire for the Egg’s control. He retrieves his things from the basement.

- He just needs to rest. Foolish returns to the beacon light.

---

- Bad creates a three-block-wide area on Foolish’s path to the Nether portal and claims ownership of it. He constructs walls around it and declares it the Town of L’Sandburg. 

- As a gift, Foolish gives Bad a bed and the HBomb catmaid service coupon.

- Bad creates Halobucks. Antfrost arrives to help Bad, and they request more sandstone to build with.

- Foolish gives Antfrost the Sword of XD to kill Bad with. Now, Antfrost and Bad have defenses for L’Sandburg. They refuse to give the sword back.

- Foolish attempts to negotiate with Antfrost to kill Bad in exchange for the supplies. Antfrost is reluctant, as Bad is the ruler of L’Sandburg and he doesn’t with to betray his country.

- Antfrost changes into his maid skin. Foolish asks for his sword back.

- They do an exchange of supplies, but Bad doesn’t give Foolish his sword. Foolish, frustrated that he is unable to break his vow of pacifism, calls in some help: he tells HBomb about the possibility of maid service for Bad.

- Purpled joins the call and logs on. Bad invites him to join L’Sandburg.

- Bad and Ant inform Foolish that he must pay a toll to pass through the path.

- Purpled arrives to join L’Sandburg. He is their lawyer.

- Foolish gets Purpled to kill Bad and then pays him. Purpled also kills Antfrost.

- Foolish says he’ll give Purpled a block of Netherite. Antfrost offers emeralds, but Purpled weighs the options and decides Foolish’s offer is better and continues to kill the L’Sandburgians.

- Bad threatens to declare it an international incident.

- Purpled starts mining bits of L’Sandburg, but Bad stops him, saying he has to take it up with the court. Purpled isn’t one for politics. Bad warns them that if they continue, he’ll have to declare war.

- Bad says they’re bringing HBomb over to act as a judge. Purpled says that’s his cue to leave and heads off. Foolish lets him know that he might need a favor later.

- HBomb arrives in his catmaid outfit and Ant asks him to join L’Sandburg. HBomb becomes a citizen of L’Sandburg. 

- Bad hands Foolish a representation of the court papers (a single arrow) as HBomb exits L’Sandburg to carve out his own country neighboring them. Ant says he can have dual citizenship. 

- H creates a running stream of water and a wall of wood and declares his new country: L’damburg.

- He also creates a seat in the sun and offers Foolish take some time in L’tanburg.

- He then makes a ton of cars and welcomes Foolish to L’jamburg.

HBomb: “Wait, are you streaming?”

Foolish: “Yeah.”

HBomb: “Welcome to L’camburg.”

(Foolish tells chat to never become a pacifist)

- HBomb lights a piece of TNT and explodes L’tanburg, declaring it now L’bamburg. 

- Bad declares that L’Sandburg’s borders, now the entire chunk, have now extended into L’damburg. They now have territory for agriculture.

- Foolish asks, how are they even a country? Do they even have a declaration? One way or another, Foolish says, they can have their little fantasy for a bit but then L’Sandburg is getting destroyed.

- Rat is a canonical L’Sandburg member

- He asks how to make a TNT cannon. Bad warns him against that, saying it would violate their peace treaty.

- Bad declares war on Foolish’s summer home over a piece of cake.

- Bad annexes a block of cactus into L’Sandburg. Foolish is outraged, insisting that this is his land.

Bad: “You will rue the day, Foolish, you started war with L’Sandburg.”

- Bad starts building a wooden one-block-wide pathway to annex territory to the cactus. Foolish gives in and says that they can have this strip of land officially, but not anymore land or else Foolish will have to bring in necessary forces.

- After learning that the cactus has been around for centuries, Bad realizes that L’Sandburg must be older than Foolish’s summer home!

Bad: “Everything the eye can see must be L’Sandburg!”

...

Foolish: “The strength of my patience is the reason you’re alive.”

- HBomb gets injured from falling outside the strip and Bad says Foolish needs to pay for the damages.

- To be good neighbors, Bad offers to let Foolish keep the strip and the cactus, and L’Sandburg and L’Damburg will stay within their chunks. In exchange for the ancient cactus, Bad requests stacks of sandstone.

- HBomb pulls Bad aside, suggesting they form a new nation: L’hamburg. They claim another chunk.

- Bad starts building a statue to Rat. Foolish blurts that he doesn’t want a statue of that “ugly creature” and Bad and H both stop and look at him. HBomb immediately starts building a wall between them.

- Foolish walks into L’Sandburg, checks a chest and is outraged when he finds that the L’Sandburgians/L’damburgians have been stealing supplies from him. 

- Foolish insults how ugly L’hamburg is. Bad leaves. 

- HBomb explains that he is not a citizen of L’Sandburg now, but L’damburg, and that L’bamburg and L’damburg are the same.

- Foolish tells HBomb that he will wait and get rid of L’Sandburg later. HBomb asks if that’s a threat.

Foolish: “That wasn’t a threat, just a promise.”

Foolish: “We strike at dawn.”

- HBomb points out that Foolish hired Purpled to kill them. He’s the judge.

- While H continues to work on L’damburg, Foolish performs the Shift Dance.

- Bad returns. H has to leave, but he tells Bad to keep an eye on the ‘burgs. Bad suggests he and Foolish create a peace treaty. 50% off toll, and in exchange they have peace.

- Foolish asks, what if someone else isn’t peaceful? Bad would consider that an act of war on his part. He offers to gift Foolish L’hamburg.

- The only thing, Bad says, is that Foolish can’t get rid of the L’Sandburg capital. With that, he departs.

- Foolish says he might keep the tower, but he’ll have to do this later.

---

- Puffy examines her Netherite axe. The axe that she killed her best friend with. She still can’t believe what happened. Worse than Foolish dying, she stooped to their level and took a life. She swore she wouldn’t be like them.

- Antfrost was right. She failed. She understands why people didn’t fight for L’manburg now.

“Chaos always wins. Despite all odds, despite everything you think you can do to fix the situation, to help each other, to persevere...you can’t.”

- She doesn’t know where Foolish is, but killing Antfrost didn’t fix anything. 

- There’s somewhere she hasn’t been in a long time. She’s done with Bad, done with Ant -- but at least Ant has a reason to hate her now. By killing Foolish, they’d hurt her more than if they’d killed her.

- Nothing excuses what she did. She’ll face the consequences for killing Antfrost later. She acted on her emotions, but she’d do it again.

“Maybe the only way to have people listen to me, to take me seriously, is to instill fear in them. And that’s not who I want to be, but if it’s who I have to be, if I have to be the villain in everyone’s story? Then that’s the choice I’ll make.”

- The Captain’s Log was meant to document her progress as a knight. Now, this book is her undoing. She goes down into her underground base, looking at the signs on the wall.

“You can’t connect the dots, you can’t see anything coming because everybody you think you know about everyone on this server is a lie! Everything you know, you can’t trust anybody!”

“Even the sweetest of people, the closest of people, the people that you have trusted since day one? They’ll turn, because everybody on this server has a dark side, whether they like to think it or not, whether it’s been shown yet, whether it’s been revealed, everybody -- everybody including me! Including the quote unquote ‘mother,’ the ‘protector of the server,’ even me! Because I could be worse than all of them! And the best part is is that they’ll never see it coming.” 

“Some people are predictable...I’m not one of them.”

- Puffy writes in her Captain’s Log, changing “What it means to be a knight” to “What it means to be a villain...”

DON’T TRUST ANYONE.

NOT EVEN YOURSELF.

A DAY WILL COME WHEN YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND BE THE PERSON YOU RECOGNIZE LEAST IN THIS WORLD.

“Trust...trust is the biggest weakness there is. Trust is what separates strangers from friends. From security, from vulnerability. Trust is weakness, and...on this server, you can’t have any weakness, because if they find out, if anybody finds out you have a weakness, they’ll use it against you.”

- A new era of peace isn’t going to happen. Puffy will bring a new era of darkness. There are few people who haven’t broken their loyalty yet, and she’ll keep an eye out. But to the people that failed her, 

“To those people, I say...’welcome to Doomsday.’“

---

- After discussion about Puffy’s height, Bad tells Puffy that he’s forming a new nation if she would like to join. A nation called L’Sandburg.

- Puffy arrives at L’Sandburg. The capital tower has been renovated, the base reinforced with obsidian.

- Puffy asks if this is canon. Bad says yes, this is his tower. (After Puffy gets mad at him for killing her son, Bad says it’s maybe not that level of canon)

- Bad lets Puffy into the L’Sandburg capital.

- Puffy asks what the point of L’Sandburg is. Bad explains that it’s a sort of tollbooth on Foolish’s road. The toll depends on how much armor a person is wearing. The more shiny, fancy armor, the higher the toll, because that person can afford to pay more.

- Puffy starts twerking to test the road durability. She pays a toll of carrots with one steak. Bad plans to increase toll amounts as the nation improves infrastructure. 

- Bad tries to arrest Puffy and put her into toll jail for bypassing the toll, but he gives up and walks away when she says no. Puffy points out that his security system is not very good, and Bad starts to see the problem here.

- Puffy walks into the toll booth and Bad asks her to pay a toll of five carrots this time. The price has gone up due to inflation. Puffy turns the tables and starts charging Bad toll to enter L’Sandburg, declaring this territory “L’Puffburg.”

- Bad bypasses the toll by saying he’s ready for hot girl summer and agrees to let Puffy keep ownership of the top floor of the capital.

- L’Sandburg is apparently Bad’s “vacation country.”

- Bad and Puffy hang out in L’Sandburg/L’Puffburg some more and Bad plays around sticking his head out of sand and doing various voices.

- Antfrost arrives. 

- Ant changes into Badboyhalo in a maid outfit.

- Bad and Antfrost fight. Antfrost runs out of L’Sandburg and Bad chases after him, threatening to take his second canon life, telling him to accept his death like a good potato.

- Antfrost kills Bad. Puffy tells them to put their weapons away so that they can have a proper duel. They fight a second time.

- Ant and Puffy say goodnight and leave Bad to work in L’Sandburg.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[needleanddead]

remember when i was like ‘i will probably use this blog to write some horrible reader-insert fanfiction too’? yeah. 

knife-edge, strade x reader, 3.2k

trigger warnings: not sfw, non-con, blood, violence, gore, references to torture/snuff films, honestly i figure you probably know what you’re getting into if you’re seeing this. reader uses no pronouns/neutral pronouns but is vaguely implied to be afab. 

cross-posted to ao3

You do not know how you still have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg.

Well.

That’s a lie, really; you have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg, because you know that the moment you stop – the moment you let yourself truly succumb to that pit of nothingness that lies heavy and waiting in your chest – he will lose interest in you completely, and you will meet the same fate as all of the rest of them do.

Despite the shock collar that lies heavy around your throat; the proof that he had seen some value in you beyond what you might feel like if he tore you into pieces and let you rot, you know that any peace you have here is temporary. He’ll get bored. He’ll lose control. He’ll--

Sometimes you wonder if those things might be better. The idea of death hovers at the edges of your vision like a spectre, waiting for you – and you are a coward and you run from it, whimpering and sensitive with tears rolling down your cheeks whenever he takes you back down the creaking basement stairs and wraps rope around already rubbed-raw wrists.

You don’t think you’d recognise the sight of your own wrists without the rope burn any more. It seems so long since you’ve been anything other than captive. You’re not sure you even know who you are unless you have a blade half-buried in your thigh or thick fingers digging and reopening wounds or pliers too close to vulnerable flesh.

You think he likes that, too – that you don’t seem to exist unless you’re hurting. Delights that he’s broken you without breaking the part of you that he really likes; the one with the trembling lip and the gasping and the tears beading in your eyes. You beg less now; you have learnt that he’s always able to turn a ‘please, please don’t, not that--’ into something that’s somehow worse. But when you’d first woken up all rope-burnt and disoriented with your arms wrapped around a pole in a basement that smelt like copper and oil, you had begged until your throat was sore.

What you had gotten for your troubles was your own hand wrapped around the knife handle as you sliced into too soft, too giving flesh and stared in horror at bubbling rivulets of blood with the dim thought in the back of your mind; I did this to myself.

It’s a dangerous knife-edge that you’re walking; don’t fight too much, but don’t give in too much. Don’t break, but don’t entirely yield. If he gets bored of you, or if you push him too far – then the collar around your neck will be carefully unlocked and you’ll regret everything. You’ll meet the fate that you so narrowly avoided, bleeding and broken and disoriented as your life slips away to the tune of Strade’s fingers wrapped too hard about your throat.

Or worse, you’ll meet the fate you’ve seen some of the ones who have broken too early become acquainted with; bandana wrapped around his mouth and camera painstakingly readjusted to perfectly centre a sobbing, terrified face. You have been far too close to the ones who end up that way; brought down to the basement and given a nail gun as you’re shoved onto your knees in front of a girl who might once have been pretty but is a little too matted with blood and bruises to be called the same any more.

“I thought they might like to see someone else hurt her this time, schatzi,” his smile had not dimmed a watt. When you had first met him, that smile had put you at ease; his eyes had reminded you of honey, and you’d been so flattered, so warmed, to have the attention of someone who oozed easy charm--

You know now his eyes are not the soft amber of honey but the sharp yellow-orange of a hawk; a predator. When he had smiled at you, he had not been thinking of the kindness of making someone feel comfortable – he had merely been imagining how prettily you would break. Which, as he had not failed to tell you after you’d sobbed out every plea you could and had jagged stitches and broken bones and blood crusted on your face to prove it, had been even more lovely than he had imagined.

The nail gun had been too heavy in your hand; the trigger sweaty, because Strade himself was over-excited and flushed dark pink under tanned skin and excitement beading at his brow. Your fingers had slipped all over it as he’d murmured;

“They want you to put a pretty pattern in her up her shins to her knees. Start at the . . . haa, start at the ankle--”

You’d felt something inside of you snap as if it was very far away as you stared at her legs; already cut up a little and stitched messily, as Strade is so wont to do to make sure his captives last longer. You hesitate too long, because suddenly thick, strong fingers are gripping your jaw and squeezing too hard as they turn your face towards the camera like a rabbit caught in headlights.

His fingers will bruise your face, you know – and he will see it tomorrow, and dig them harder, make the bruises deeper until you can barely open your jaw--

“Ah, they think you’re cute, mäuschen,” Strade says, an uncomfortable lilt in his voice that sets your teeth on edge. “They’d be happy to see you as the star instead – and I’m sure our other guest would much prefer it too.”

(The girl in the chair leans forward, babbling words that don’t make sense; bubbling drool slips from her lips, tinged pink, and you think that this one must have talked too much and Strade has done something to her tongue).

“Now,” his tone is endlessly patient. “You know I want to keep you, ja? You’re very sweet. I like you a lot - so be good and do what the audience want, and I won’t have to do something I don’t want to, will I?”

He is hard to read. Cheerful to angry in moments; snapping and bouncing from side to side with a laugh and a wild light in his eyes that you don’t understand. He does like you – insofar as you think Strade is capable of really feeling for other people – but you can’t wager your life on him bluffing. The girl looks at you with agonised eyes and you pull the trigger, the nose of the gun pressed against her ankle.

You hear her scream – wet, through a throat clogged with blood, the sound mixing with the disgusting crunch-squelch of the nail being driven into her skin too close to the bone – and it echoes far longer in your head than it actually lasts. You feel far away as you trail the gun further up her leg, pulling the trigger, your marks on her surprisingly straight considering how much the both of you are trembling – but you know you’re crying because you can hear Strade breathing a little heavy, see the bulge in his pants (level with your face) from the corner of your eye as you finish the first leg and move to the second.

It’s not the last time he makes you hurt someone on stream. Sometimes, he checks the stream whilst you’re there and whichever poor soul he’s got taped to a chair whimpers and squirms, whistling cheerily through his teeth as if the situation is perfectly normal. You see the comments as they scroll by; asking you to do horrible things, the ping of donations, the occasional plea to dig a screwdriver into your eye socket and make you scream or pull out your teeth with pliers or slash a heavy knife through your ribcage and fuck the wound he leaves there--

You think he lets you see them on purpose, as a reminder of what he could do to you. He always makes sure the stream sees your face perfectly clearly, too – and you never fail to think; ‘he is making me an accessory to his murders’.

(It is not just you; you find out that Ren is subjected to this same treatment, this same reminder that Strade’s moods are volatile and he loses self-control too quickly and there’s every chance that one day, he will go too far. You do not share your thoughts with Ren that even if, by some miracle, the two of you found yourself outside of Strade’s control, your face is probably plastered all over the darkest shadows of the deep web. You never talk about what might happen. You do not quite trust each other beyond sharing in patching up each other’s wounds, occasionally seeking one another out for company, trembling in the night. There is a kind of tension between you; fear that the other is the favourite. That Strade perhaps isn’t capable of keeping both of you long-term.

It makes Strade himself laugh when he sees that you’re on edge around each other and he leans forward to rest elbows on knees and tells you with a wicked glint in his eye that he just wants the both of you to get along. Perhaps you two need to share something very special, like what he shares with the both of you.

When he tells you to hurt one another, Ren has the advantage of animal nature. It’s clear to you where you stand in the pecking order of predators. You think, too, that Strade prefers you there. Master, fox, mouse.)

You never hear anything from the room designated as yours; it doesn’t escape notice that there is no other bedroom, aside from Ren’s domain and the one that Strade himself barely uses. Nowhere for someone else, if Strade were to take it into his head that another captive would be an interesting pet to keep--

It has been long enough that there are some things you have asked for, tremulous and whimpering, decorating surfaces and scattered about the room. There are also reminders of Strade, too; a hammer and nails on a chest of drawers, a knife in the bedside cabinet, too many things that could be used as weapons at the same time as being summarily excused as simply the detritus of a man doing home improvements.

You’d woken up that morning (you know it is morning because early fingers of dawn have penetrated even through the curtains you keep closed) to see Strade silhouetted in the doorway, smile on his face, shirt spattered with dark red and brown. You know that expression. You sit up, letting the covers fall, and he keeps smiling as he closes the door behind him and approaches you like a wolf approaches a frightened rabbit.

“Last night was disappointing,” he says, his tone light. You’d heard a thump in the middle of the night; assumed it to be Strade dragging a body down to the basement, and had resolutely buried your face into your pillow and pretended you heard nothing.

It’s easier to think of Strade’s other victims – the ones not so lucky as you or Ren – as faceless, foolish creatures. Food. Sustenance. Not people.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice quiet, cracking. Strade reaches across and chucks your chin, too fondly, bright smile and bright eyes.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. He’s pleased with the apology. He likes it when you’re polite. “It just means that I’m feeling a little . . . ahh. Restless. You’ll help me with that, won’t you?”

“Of c-course I will.” The stutter; he likes that, you know. He shifts as he sits on the bed.

A chuckle.

“You’re always so well-behaved,” he tells you. “sehr süß.”

The knife-edge you walk; the tight-rope. Well-behaved, but not broken. Responsive, but not troublesome. You’ve gotten it down to a fine art.

He’s on top of you before you can respond, knees shoved between your legs, your hand shoved hard against the bedside table so it knocks uncomfortably against hard wood and you flinch at the shock of pain.

The brief pain, though, is nothing to the anxiety that crawls up your throat as you realise he grabbed the hammer and nails as he walked in.

He chuckles as he sees your eyes widen in fear, cooing softly to you;

“That expression. So hübsch. Stay still for me.”

Your wrist is shaking as Strade carefully places a nail right in the centre of your hand; testing the angle, the positioning. His breath is uneven and panting in excitement at what he’s going to do – and excitement, too, that he knows you won’t pull away. Because you know if you do, it will not merely be a nail through one hand, but perhaps through your other and your knees and your feet, perhaps a knife slicing through you like butter, perhaps the feel of chisels and needles and sharper and more painful objects (knife, pliers, screwdriver, chisel, bradawl, drill--).

He lifts the hammer. He watches intently. His eyes are lit with bright excitement, chest heaving, sweat-soaked and greasy. You taste copper and realise you’ve bitten through your lip.

You’ve grown used to the smell of copper and motor oil and meat. If it weren’t for the flood of blood across your tongue you doubt you’d have noticed.

Crack. The first blow. The pain is blinding.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every single hit of the hammer sends a new shock of pain through you that echoes through the inside of your arm through to the bone marrow, shaking you. It’s not the most painful thing you’ve felt at Strade’s hands; but you are still partly asleep, still not quite aware, and you are simply looking at your hand with the crunch of fractured bones (twenty seven bones in the human hand; is that your capitate, that’s been splintered through?) and the sick wet noise of blood and muscle and you can’t think.

You stare, unblinking, at where your hand is nailed to the bedside table - the gore and blood that oozes from the wound as he uses the clawed end of the hammer to drag it out again. Strade’s smile is beatific, eyes wide and bright, sweat dampening his collar and his cheeks flushed and ruddy.

You’re unable to process anything for another long, agonising second; relief flooding you when finally, you respond. The whimper a delayed reaction, the tears that roll fat and hot down your own face taking a beat longer than usual.

You fear that you’ve broken for the moment you’re staring in horror; that he has finally, well and truly snapped you in half. Because if you’re broken, that means he’ll lose interest, and that means the basement and the fear of death finally catching up with you.

Occasionally the thought flits across your mind that death perhaps would be preferable; but you are a coward, and you have hurt people (even if it was on Strade’s command), and you do not want to know what awaits you on the other side of a non-beating heart and the light in a tunnel.

Strade chuckles, affectionately rubbing his nose against the line of your jaw, teeth digging just a little too hard into the flesh of your neck.

“You had me worried for a second, mäuschen,” he practically purrs. “I thought I’d heard the last of your squeaking.” Big fingers, tugging at your thighs, guiding you to wrap them around his hips. Despite the softness of his body, the proof that he enjoys lazing around and cheap beer and meat a little too much, there’s raw muscle beneath the chub. Even his hands on you are a reminder of how strong he is.

(Strong enough to drag dead bodies across floors, to lift them into kilns, to hold down unwilling, screaming captives and make them regret they ever laid eyes on him.)

“Unzip,” he tells you. One of your hands is free; unpierced, though scarred from being pressed against stove burned and soldering irons and heat guns, from grabbing the blade of a knife when he’s told you to fuck yourself with the handle, from sanders applied to formerly soft skin. You do not use that hand.

You force yourself to move the one dripping in your own blood, the ruined hand pierced straight through. The movement of your fingers burns, sending shock waves of pain all through you; but you tug at the zip of his pants nonetheless. You get blood all over his clothes but he just chuckles low and dangerous, as you reach into his underwear too and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel how hot and hard and heavy his cock is in your grip.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you, soft, and you force yourself to open them. He drinks in the expression on your face like he’s a starved man and it’s his first meal.

There’s a bloody handprint on his shaft when your fingers and wrist finally give out and your hand falls onto the sheets and pillows beneath you, staining them too, and you think that Strade is going to drive more nails through your hand just to prove a point about not doing as he says.

But his cock presses hot and needy against your inner thigh, smearing blood and pre-come on your scarred skin, and he’s panting and practically drooling as he murmurs;

“You know you’re not going to break, schatz. You want to live too much.” He leans his face further down. He does not kiss you so much as take control of you; worry teeth into your bottom lip, transfer his own saliva into your mouth, conquer the cavern behind your lips and teeth (one of them is loose; from being hit and squeezed. He pushes his tongue just a little too hard against that one and your body contracts, a whimper transferred from your throat to his mouth, and he swallows it up like your protests are a fine steak). “Ah. That’s what I like about you.”

Are you going to break? The push of him pressing inside of you makes your toes curl, a soft noise that might be a moan escape; Strade laughs, again, the sound too hearty and friendly to come out of the monster that you know he is.

“You like it,” he presses, as his thumbs come to your hips and dig into wounds that have been stitched together; you hear the stitches pop, feel him re-open barely healed gashes. “You like being special to me. You like this.”

You don’t think you do.

You don’t think you like any of this; his body on top of yours, the pain, the mistrust, the fear that prickles hot and sharp and sour in your throat whenever you hear the door (the one you can’t go near) open. But you also know that saying that is the wrong answer. Hitting and screaming like a wildcat is the wrong answer. Saying nothing at all is the wrong answer.

So instead, you open your mouth, you shiver and shudder as his thumb presses deeper into the re-opened wound, and you manage to choke out a mouse-squeak of;

“Pl-please—”

It’s the right answer. His face does not soften; but his smile widens, his hips tilting until you’re so full you can barely move and you ache everywhere, and Strade simply smiles down at you as whatever passes for affection for him leaks into his tone and he coos;

“Don’t worry, mäuschen. I’ll give you exactly what you want. For as long as you need.”

[german translation dictionary;  schatzi - sweetheart/dear/darling/treasure mäuschen - little mouse sehr süß - very sweet/very cute so hübsch - so pretty idk how accurate these are i am just using google translate always]