#But this current one? I doubt they could see past each others crimes. It took them so long to accept the war and the propaganda

[othercrossee]

Ik the clan leaders probably didn't kill nobody yet but the idea of adarida already having blood on their hands at a young age is pretty fucked and kinda unredeemable

[clickerflight]

Oh, how far you've fallen

Content: Dehumanization, scientist whumper, villain whumpee, scars, bruises, dragged by the hair (let me know if I missed anything)

Inspired by this post

................................................

Scientist made her way down the hall, preparing herself to entertain the inspector coming from the government offices. She was pretty excited. Government Inspector was not only cute, but also didn’t mind overlooking the horrible horrible crimes against humanity that usually took place at the Harry & Co labs. 

Scientist stopped before going through the door that would lead to the lobby and smiled at herself in the reflection of a metal plating on a door, checking her teeth before heading on through. She looked around, looking for Government, and was confused when she was met with a man in his early thirties giving her a nod. 

“Hi, are you Dr. Scientist?” he asked, stepping forward and holding out a hand for her to shake. 

She nodded, hiding her confusion as she said, “I am. And you are?”

“I’m Inspector Agent. Agent is just fine. Government couldn’t make it so he asked me to come.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re a friend of his?”

“Yeah,” Agent said with a little bit of a wink. “Don’t worry. He let me know what I’d be getting into.”

She smiled, still disappointed, but glad that Government had made sure to send a friend who wouldn’t shut this place down. He was good at thinking ahead when it was necessary. 

“Perfect. Let’s get this done, then,” Scientist said, waving him along.

He nodded and followed her through the door. “Stay with me,” she warned him. “If you’re not with me, you could be mistaken for one of the subjects, and I doubt Government would be very happy with me if that happened to you.”

Agent gave her a wry smile and said, “No, I suppose not. I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

She nodded and as they walked down the halls, she said, “Now, we keep it all very tidy around here. The maintenance closets are locked so if a subject gets out, they can’t get anything from out of there easily, we have the labs over that way, the cloning happening there, and then currently ongoing experiments further in. Anything you want to look at first?”

“I’m good to start wherever you want to take me. I have a couple of things I need to see, but I’ll ask about them as we get to them, and I’ll ask any other questions I have afterwards.”

“Perfect. Sounds like you know the drill.”

“I certainly do.”

…………………………..

Agent took notes as they went, in a cypher, of course, and he paid more attention as Scientist led him into a darkened part of the labs. 

“This is fairly new. We wanted some more subjects from outside, but we didn’t have anywhere to keep them. We had these installed and discovered that the prisons had plenty of people that wouldn’t be missed. Some have been quite thrilling to learn from, others have been a little trickier. It’s also good storage for projects that are out of use, but still need to be kept around.”

Agent nodded, eyeing each of the cells as they walked passed. The doors were somewhat medieval, made of metal bars which typically interfered with magic and innate abilities and often even sucked the energy out of normal people. Agent could already feel it pulling at his energy, bringing back extremely unpleasant memories from past exploits. 

Scientist stopped in front of one door in particular, smiling down at the man curled on the floor, shaking. 

“Hard to believe how terrifying everyone thought you were, hmm Villain? You look almost tame now.”

She kicked the bars of the cage with a cruel laugh, causing Villain to yelp, scrambling to get farther away from the door, but he was unable to as he was already as far as his chain would allow. 

“Would you like a better look at him, Agent? It’s not everyone who gets to see him anymore.”

Agent watched as she carefully crouched, grabbing the chain where it was attached to one of the bottom bars. A pitiful whimper came from the creature in the cage and she clicked her tongue at him. “Now, now, Villain. I trained you better than this.”

The shrinking form hesitated and then slowly crawled to the door. It took all of Agent’s self control to keep from revealing his disgust and horror as Villain’s face came into the dim light of the hallway, pale, horribly bruised, and scarred. A part of his lip had been damaged so badly that he couldn’t get his mouth all the way closed on the one side and his hair hung ragged in his face, small patches of hair thinning or even missing in places. There were tears already welling in his eyes as she dragged him forward quicker by the chain attached to the collar around his throat. 

She smiled and reached in, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him up against the bars with such ease that Agent didn’t have any doubt as to what had caused those missing patches of hair. 

“Here we are,” she said, checking over his bare torso as he trembled against the bars, flinching as though they were burning him, but not trying to free himself from her grasp, despite Agent having seen him tear huge men to shreds with just his hands just a year ago. 

Villain’s eyes darted up to Agent’s face, clouded with some sort of disease and tears. Agent doubted that Villain could even really see him, but Agent still stiffened, worried that he would be recognized. 

“What have you been learning about him?” Agent asked as evenly as he could manage.

She grinned and said, “We learned about the DNA that creates people like him, and learned how it can be strengthened, but he ran out of usefulness months ago. Didn’t you? You’re useless now, hmm?”

“N-not useless,” Villain whimpered. “M funny. Said so, m funny.” Tears were running down his face now, a surprising amount for how sick and thin he looked. Agent didn’t think he would have enough water in his body to keep crying like that. 

Scientist chuckled, patting his bruised cheek. “That’s right. You’re funny when you cry.”

She let go of his chain and he slowly withdrew. She stood up and smiled at Agent. “He’s good for stress relief. A lot of the old guys here come beat on him when the projects don’t go their way. Want a go at him before we move on?”

“I’m afraid not, tempting as it is,” Agent said, “I do have places to be and I’m starting to brush up against my time limit.”

“Right, we’ll finish this up quickly, then.”

Agent didn’t look into the cell as he passed, though he could still hear Villain sobbing as he passed. 

………………………………..

Agent was back that evening. The building was dark and quiet, with only a couple of lights here and there where people were finishing up their reports before going home. Agent waited until a few more scientists left the building, talking casually with each other before he moved from his hiding place, silent as a shadow. He managed to catch the door before it closed and stepped into the space between the two sets of doors. He keyed in the code for the next set of doors, using Scientist’s code. He probably didn’t have long before security noticed that the cameras where he was traveling could only see a slight disturbance in the pixels where he moved. He hoped they were the superstitious type that was afraid of ghosts. 

He walked silently through the halls, passing through doors with ease and finally came to the complete darkness that was the ‘dungeon’ hallway. Agent hesitated for only a moment. He was disobeying all kinds of orders being here, but he wasn’t leaving Villain here for even a moment longer. He couldn’t count the amount of times that Villain had saved his life, and he was not going to turn his back on his old friend now. 

He stepped into the darkness and turned on his night vision goggles. He stopped in front of Villain’s cell where he heard the subtle scrape of metal against the floor. Agent crouched and peered into where he could see Villain rocking, his arms around his knees as he stared at the wall. It was so…. Awful. Villain had nothing left. There was nothing about this creature that even somewhat reminded Agent of Villain. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, the question slipping out without his consent, like he was hoping to unlock something that proved Villain was still in there. 

Villain hiccuped. After a moment, he whispered, “Henchman used to ask me that. He was nice. He was so very nice and I wasn’t. I should have been nicer. Maybe he would have come for me? No, he would have come for me. Maybe he’s dead? I wish I was dead. Henchman used to ask me that, he did, he did, he did.”

Agent opened his mouth to say something, anything, but it wouldn’t come out. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as Villain continued his insane ramblings.  It had been a long time since he’d heard the name Villain had given him.

“I did,” Agent said. “I had a hard time finding you. I didn’t know you were here.”

“You didn’t? 

“No… Villain, do you want to go home?”

“Home? The Lair?”

Agent felt his stomach burn as he said, “No, not the lair. It… I have a house. It has a bed you can sleep in, and you can even have some food before bed.”

Villain scooted over to the bars, hope shining in his delirious face. “I, I would like that. I would. Are you really Henchman? I have dreams, you know, dreams that are never true.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Let’s go, hmmm?” Agent said, standing to figure out how to get the door open. After a minute, he found a scanner and he pulled out a key card he’d swiped from someone earlier, praying that it would work. That was a little bing as the card was accepted and he breathed out a sigh of relief. 

The door slid open and Agent crouched next to Villain. He used a lock pick on Villain’s collar, and soon Villain’s neck was free. He touched his bare, if damaged, skin and Agent said, “I want to carry you, okay?”

“Like a princess?” Villain asked, his eyes sliding over Agent’s face, clearly not able to see or focus very well. 

“Do you want to be a princess?” Agent asked, surprised.

“Princesses are good. They get to be rescued,” Villain replied, happily letting Agent pick him up.

“I see. Then everything works out, hmmm?”

“Yeah.”

Agent stepped out into the hall when a flashlight shone down the hallway and a voice shouted out at him. 

Without a word, Agent tightened his hold on Villain and took off through the darkness, a white bolt of adrenaline erasing all thoughts besides the need to get his precious cargo somewhere safe. 

[sxugaryx]

Confrontation (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Haneul knew it was dangerous to break into a police station, however, he needed to do this, there is only one true way for him to prove to his sister who he truly is.

The cryptic vessel he left behind for her.

He read how no one had been able to decipher his message, it made sense, it’s already hard to crack, not to mention how most deciphering devices used are only cheap copies of the real ones.

Making his way into the evidence room, he found what he was looking for, this is it, leave now, go find her, and explain. However, seeing the message, seeing how he could only pray to God at that time to save her from any more harm, how he thought he failed her.

It enraged him, how dare Parrot try to end his life? After everything he did for that bastard? He stole the important antiques to sell them, but that wasn’t enough that man stole his identity, he would have ruined his reputation if the truth hadn’t been found out.

Haneul looks at his missing arm, how he refused to die, it’s a miracle he wasn’t killed by the infection he had while recovering. After that entire fiasco, it took him so long to feel at least decent, yet when he found out his sister was alive, it gave him strength.

Parrot is still being detained at the station detention center, his trial has ended and tomorrow he is going to be sent to prison, it’s now or never to talk to him.

Despite his better judgment he decided to sneak into the cells, odd, it’s almost empty, despite the fact that Krat has been having more issues lately, it’s not as if arrests haven’t been made for petty crimes, did they all get sent to prison already? Currently, there is only Parrot and a prisoner who is asleep, snoring loudly.

“I can’t believe this is what I get, I don’t deserve this” Parrot was talking to himself in his cell.

That only made Haneul more enraged, he got closer to the cell, now standing in front of him.

“What do you want?” Parrot was irritated, “Not another damn reporter, seriously even at this time of night you leeches won’t leave me alone?!”

Parrot was without his mask, although Haneul will at least do him the service of not saying his real name, he at least holds that small honor of the stalker code for the man he hates.

“I want to know why” Haneul’s voice was filled with rage.

Parrot’s face became pale, “No, I’m going crazy, this isn’t real, I’m hallucinating him”

“It’s me Parrot” Haneul took off his mask for a moment before putting it back, they knew each other for years and did share their identities at one point “Maybe the next time you try to kill someone, you should verify they actually died”

“But that can’t be!” Parrot looked panicked, “That monster, it grabbed you and-”

“Answer me” Haneul interrupted him.

“What do you mean why?!” Now Parrot was furious too, “You and your damn white knighting”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Haneul was baffled.

“I’m sorry but keeping all those damn antiques didn’t pay the damn bills you know that?!” Parrots shouted, he didn't seem worried about the other prisoner waking up, he knew they wouldn’t wake up, having been subjected to that awful snoring for the past few days.

“You could have literally done so much more before doing that” Haneul wasn’t having any of it, “At the very least you could have talked to me”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit” Parrot crossed his arms, “What else was I supposed to do? I doubt you would have given me a raise”

“I would have!” Haneul was starting to get emotional, “We were partners for years, I would have found a way to help you pay your bills”

“Sure, Mr. Perfect has a solution for everything doesn’t he?” Parrot sarcastically replied, “You were struggling as well, the economy was going to hell with that damn disease”

Before Haneul could speak up again, Parrot interrupted him.

“Those were only antiques, what were you going to even use them for? They were there accumulating dust”

Haneul took a deep breath, “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t think you ever saw the true value, only the monetary value”

“All I saw, is that Geppetto’s puppet made me a rich man for some time” Parrot laughed, “That handsome idiot, Geppetto made his puppet a good fighter but he certainly didn’t make him smart”

Parrot remembers when he told that stupid puppet the truth, he was furious, grabbing his weapon, for a moment he was scared, only for a moment, remembering that the puppet couldn’t truly hurt him. So he shrugged it off, although he didn’t see the boy after that.

What Parrot doesn’t know is that Pinocchio could have murdered him, the poor boy was just tired of killing, more so after his battle with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, and for him to kill somebody that wasn’t even attacking him… After that, Hugo the explorer was the one who started selling rare treasures to Pinocchio since he didn’t go back to see Parrot.

In his mind, Parrot was having a great time, his pockets were full, and the alchemists had promised him a way out.

Maybe he is the stupid one for believing the alchemists.

At first, he didn’t panic, Krat was back to normal, so he still pretended to be Alidoro, he even found himself a nice place. Then he was discovered, the simple truth of him not missing a finger, everyone was enraged, he hid for months and months, he saved money instead of wasting it to escape from Krat, but was caught as soon as he got to the station.

“Perhaps that I could have forgiven” Haneul took another step closer, too close to the cell, “But why take my identity?”

“Because-”

“Because you were Parrot? Because of some ridiculous form of imitation?” Haneul was done with him.

“No one knew what you did, yet it wasn’t enough for you” His previous partner could have gotten away with it had he not stolen his identity.

Haneul had murder in his eyes, “Then all the lives you harmed, the people inside Hotel Krat, my….”

He has to control himself, he can’t let his anger consume him.

“I trusted you, we used to be friends” Haneul took a few steps back, “Hopefully, no one else has the displeasure of being a fool like I was”

Haneul turned to leave but Parrot started shouting.

“Please Alidoro!” Parrot knows not to use his real name, which would enrage him more, Parrot had his hands on the cell bars, shaking them in despair “Please you don’t understand they gave me the death penalty!”

Haneul kept up with the trial so he knows about that.

“I don’t deserve to die” Parrot was begging him, “Maybe I deserve to be imprisoned but not to die!”

“They didn’t give you the death penalty just because of what you did to me” Haneul turned around to face him again, “They did it for all the horrible things you did, for working with the alchemists”

“That’s not fair!” Parrot was getting desperate, “I wasn’t the only one that worked for them, the Black Rabbit Brotherhood and those siblings, they-”

“What siblings?” Haneul was intrigued, he didn’t know about that.

“They, I-” The truth is, Parrot bolted as soon as he compromised Hotel Krat’s security, but he does know the Black Rabbit Brotherhood wasn’t alone, he only knows they were siblings because he overheard the female stalker saying the word brother to her partner, “Look I don’t know who they were, all I know is that they helped raid the Hotel, you seem interested in those that were at Hotel Krat, maybe if I-”

“I’ve heard enough” Haneul turned around again, “I hope you rot in hell”

As Haneul left, he could hear Parrot begging him to come back, to forgive him. Then at the end cursing him, he hid behind a corner as he saw a guard approaching the cells.

Haneul left and took a deep breath, did those stalkers harm his sister in any way? He needs to get to the bottom of that, are they still around or are they dead?

For now, he needs to reveal the message to her. Then he can make his plans, although the more he thinks about it, the more he simply wants to leave with her, back to their homeland.

Tomorrow he will reveal the truth, no more cowering out of the situation, he needs to face her, to finally talk to her as siblings. To tell her how much he loves her.

——

“I’m surprised you didn’t know how to braid your hair,” Eugéne said to Pinocchio.

She was braiding his hair carefully, today Pinocchio was wearing his cute pink dress so it seemed fitting. A lot of people thought he was a girl while on his way here; he also got one strange comment.

“Eugéne” Pinocchio was curious he had never heard that word before, and it didn’t seem like an insult, “What’s a twink?”

She covered his mouth to prevent herself from laughing, “Oh um, well…”

Should she tell him? She doesn’t think Geppetto would be happy about that, she is sure the man must have heard at least once someone call Carlo a twink, so he most likely knows what the word means.

“Is it a bad thing?” Pinocchio could tell she was nervous.

“Uhhh…” Depending on what was said to him, although probably it was flirting, “You see…”

“Never mind,” Pinocchio said, he shouldn’t think so much about it, he got a lot of different comments while outside and it’s not as if he should let him affect him.

Eugéne breathed in a sigh of relief as she continued to make his hair, showing him how to do it himself next time and putting the pink bow at the end of the braid.

They were having a great time, unfortunately, Pinocchio had to bring up the subject.

“Have you gotten any calls from him?” Pinocchio had explained to her, as well as his mother what had been going on with Arlecchino.

“No” Eugéne then looked at one of her weapons, “Just in case, I’ve been practicing more and more, I’ve been carrying a weapon with me at all times as well”

Pinocchio was relieved she wasn’t in danger, but he still felt uneasy.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll catch him like you did last time”

“I…” Pinocchio paused for a moment, “I’m worried about my uncle Venigni”

Pinocchio can tell he feels more on edge and hasn’t been acting like his usual self, it must be so hard to pretend he is okay in front of others.

Venigni had to disconnect his phone line because he was having a panic attack each time the phone rang. Arlecchino didn’t stop there, no he did something similar to what he made Pinocchio see, the next two dead bodies found were sown together to resemble Venigni’s parents. Worse is that people noticed that, so the media was talking intensely about it, now everyone in Krat knew his taunting message, Venigni keeps getting questions about whether he knows why the killer did it, not being able to reveal the truth makes it even worse.

“I don’t know how to help him” Pinocchio looked at the floor, “I tried what I usually do to cheer up my father, but it doesn’t work”

“Pinocchio…” Eugéne was trying to find a way to explain it to him, “Anything you do for your father, no matter how simple it is, it’s going to cheer him up because you are his son”

Pinocchio turned to look at Eugéne again, so she continued.

“However even if Mr. Venigni is family, it’s a different type of bond” Eugéne gave out a sigh, “Not to mention how his trauma and your father’s trauma are different”

Pinocchio nodded, he understood what she was saying.

“Do you have trauma Eugéne?” Pinocchio asked.

“Everyone has traumas” Eugéne explained, “Some might be more intense than others”

Watching your parents die or your son die while being completely powerless is pretty intense.

For Pinocchio obviously having to kill even if it is self-defense it’s something extremely traumatic, not to mention all the other dangers he faced.

Lady Antonia almost died from the petrification disease, she can’t imagine what it must have felt like, to have your body slowly start turning stiff as stone.

As for her, she can barely remember her family so maybe it didn't affect her as much, being an orphan was a little tough as she had to deal with some bullying but she managed to overcome it in her eyes. What affected her the most was almost dying in that tower, buried in that rubble before the real Alidoro saved her. It’s… such a shame what happened to him.

“But that doesn’t mean that someone has it better because they faced something less… I guess less intense?” Now she was having a little trouble explaining, “At least I can tell you that pain isn’t a competition, everyone deals with their own demons differently”

“Demons?” Pinocchio didn’t seem to get it, “Wait does that mean-”

“No no no, not literally!” Eugéne has to reassure him his traumas don’t turn into actual demons, she forgets how he doesn’t tend to get sayings like that, “Metaphorical demons, because you know, the past can haunt you”

Pinocchio looked at the time, his father and uncle were about to get off from work and he insisted on being there, he didn’t want them to go back home alone. He is also accompanying them to work as well.

“We should get going” Pinocchio didn’t want to leave her but they could hang out later.

“You are so kind Pinocchio” Eugéne smiled, “To care about your family like that”

“You are family too” Pinocchio also smiled, “I will protect you too!”

Eugéne was glad to know she wasn’t truly alone, not like she was before.

“Gemini let’s go” Pinocchio turned to look at him but couldn’t see the cricket anywhere, “Gemini?”

“I’m up here”

Both turned to look at one of the display weapons on one of the stands, the one closest to the ceiling.

“I’m perfecting my jumping” Gemini proceeded to jump from stand to stand, then landing on Pinocchio’s head, “In case my tiny help is needed, although I’ll always be your guide buddy”

“Aw Gemini you are a little hero now too” Eugéne found it so cute, “The two of you should take care”

—-

Pinocchio was waiting for both of them outside the factory, most workers had already left, it was odd how it was taking them so long.

“Come on beautiful, it's not safe for a girl to stay out this late” A man who came out of the place had been standing next to Pinocchio for a while, he was trying to ignore him.

“Leave me alone” Pinocchio had had enough.

“You sure you don’t need anyone to walk you-”

“Ahem” Geppetto was now standing behind the man, “You better leave right now before I fire you”

It was then that the man realized he was talking to Pinocchio, although he didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t actually talking to a girl or a human, more than anything he was afraid of Geppetto and turned around running.

Geppetto started going into overprotective mode, asking if the man had said anything else to him, if he had tried to get too close to him, if-

“Father I’m fine” Pinocchio asserted, “I’m here to protect you both, not the other way around”

Pinocchio grabbed his weapon, Puppet Ripper, “If he comes close I’ll deal with him”

Venigni had a faint smile, “That dress with that huge weapon, it’s a little amusing”

They had been taking their time talking about plans for future projects for the development of Krat’s transportation system. Sometimes planning is harder than the building process.

Just after talking a few steps outside the factory, they heard it, a phone ringing, Venigni stopped moving, paralyzed with fear. Pinocchio looked at the public phone, the same phone where he got his first call.

His father stayed by Venigni’s side, while he went and picked up the phone.

There was an awkward pause for a few moments, Pinocchio starting to wonder if maybe it was just a random caller.

“So, finally not going to interrupt me this time?” Arlechino laughed, “Why that just makes me smile”

Pinocchio stayed quiet, just like he stayed quiet when dealing with his first riddle, before it was because the event was confusing to him and because he could barely talk back then. Now it’s because he isn’t going to let him try and make him angry like the last few times.

“Oh dear, I hope I didn’t upset the beautiful girl” Obviously he knows where they are, therefore he knows what Pinocchio is wearing, “Why dressed like that no wonder you make everyone’s hearts twirl”

Since Pinocchio stays quiet he continues.

“The son of Geppetto looking so pretty like that, Unfortunately, an outfit like falls flat; When you can’t enjoy dressing so nicely, In a place where danger is always on time precisely,

So I might have a little surprise waiting in the Mallum District, A secret place that’s restricted; But first, let’s talk about honestly, Have you been a good boy? Yes? No? Probably?; Hopefully, you aren’t lying, Or that might lead to others lying”

A few minutes in silence passed, Pinocchio turned to look at his father and Venigni. His uncle looked pale, he was shaking, is Arlecchino taking longer to speak this time on purpose?

“So for today’s riddle a simple question, Will you be able to understand this suggestion?; If you’ve got me, you want to share me; if you share me, you haven’t kept me. What am I?”

This was a little tricker than the last one, although not that complicated.

“A secret” Pinocchio finally spoke up from the other line.

“You are cheating right?” Arlecchino started to rant about Pinocchio’s supposed cheating for an entire minute.

“Whatever” Arlecchino knew it was time to give out the clue, “At the Mallum District, you will see the usual sign, hurry up, since this surprise won’t last”

As the line cut, Pinocchio let out a groan of frustration, no choice but to go and investigate now.

Venigni tried to speak up, however, he couldn’t find his voice, each time he spoke he couldn’t finish the sentence, looking like would break down crying at any moment.

“Venigni you should go home” Geppetto grabbed the man’s shoulders, “Don’t force yourself to deal with this”

“But-” Venigni tried to talk again, but it wasn’t working as he began to hyperventilate.

It’s a good thing Geppetto had grabbed Venigni, as the man almost lost his balance.

They decided to take Venigni home, Pulcinella was waiting for him. Despite Pulcinella’s usual voice, you could tell he was holding a deep sadness, he thanked Geppetto and Pinocchio for helping his dear Master Venigni and said he could handle this from now on.

Pulcinella wished he would never have to see his beloved family like this again when he first found out about Arlecchino’s death. Now Venigni is experiencing that pain again, it keeps becoming worse, and he is starting to have several nightmares like when he was a child.

He knows what to do to confront him, yet he knows that this won’t fix anything until Arlecchino is truly dealt with, that puppet won’t stop. It seems as if he is even more determined to torment him than before.

Venigni tries going to bed, but ends up breaking down, sobbing because he can’t do this, he can’t handle this anymore.

Pulcinella stays by his side, as he always has. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things become, he will always be there for him.

They are family, he is willing to do anything for his master Venigni, he wasn’t afraid of Fuecco when the puppet attacked him at the factory, almost destroying him, he wasn’t afraid because he did it for his safety.

Sadly he cannot constantly be by his side, because Venigni is starting to get too overwhelmed, Pulcinella has taken over most of his work duties. Venigni only doing his factory duties, other have insulted this decision, they feel as if they should talk to the man himself, not his “ridiculous butler puppet”

Pulcinella takes those insults, Venigni’s well-being comes first, and it doesn’t matter how others shout at him or demand to see Venigni. Even if the workload is starting to become more than he bargained for.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for him.

——-

Pinocchio and Geppetto were at the Mallum District because neither wanted to leave the other alone in a situation like this. At least being in a dress came in handy, a lot of people from the Mallum District can recognize Pinocchio since they saw him get rid of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood; with the dress, it’s very unlikely someone will notice who he is.

It didn’t take them long to find the place they were looking for, an abandoned house in the slums, it didn’t look like the rundown empty shacks that were around this small area, it looked like a normal house, only in a bad shape.

The door wasn’t even locked.

Pinocchio could tell that for a moment his father almost didn’t want him to go inside, but he took a deep breath and told him to stay safe.

Entering the home, he looked around, nothing out of the ordinary, although it seemed that in the past some homeless people had lived inside there, he could see some old dirty mattresses and empty food cans, as he was investigating the living room, he stepped on a carpet.

Or rather, he stepped on a trap, the carpet was covering a hole in the floor and Pinocchio fell straight into a basement. A loud thud was heard with his body colliding with the floor and suddenly lights shone across the floor. Pinocchio stood up and tried to take a few steps back before Gemini stopped him.

“No Pinocchio stay in place!”

Sure enough, a second later, the floor tile around him became electrified, volts of electricity coming out of the altered mechanism. Before stopping, the light of the electricity fades and engulfs the place in darkness.

He turned on Gemini’s lamp, the dark basement now dimly lit, he could hear something else inside of the place, some strange faded groaning. He looked around, staying in the same tile, trying to find whatever was making the noise.

In the darkness he could see a figure crawling in the walls, moving slowly.

Then the electricity sparked again, revealing that several floor tiles were a certain death with that high of a voltage, finally, Pinocchio was able to see what was in the wall, some strange human-like spider creature, it had two sets of extra arms and legs, its mouth was sealed shut, its eyes were missing, dripping a strange black ooze from them.

The creature had noticed Pinocchio, launching itself at him, Pinocchio barely managed to dodge and jump into another safe tile. The creature stayed glued to the wall each time the traps would activate.

Pinocchio was playing defensively, trying his hardest to find a plan of action, Gemini warning him each time the floor traps would activate.

That’s when Pinocchio had an idea, the creature was blind, it could only hear him, so he stayed very still, not making a sound and even held his breath for a moment, waiting for the perfect opportunity, he grabbed from his bag a sawtoothed wheel, and threw it into the floor.

The creature fell for his trap and when it jumped onto the floor, it was electrocuted, its muffled screams sounding agonizing until it became too much, the creature exploding into a dozen pieces, completely covering Pinocchio with the black ooze from head to toe.

Pinocchio wiped the liquid out of his face, he clenched his fist in anger, there was no way out of this basement, however, he is smart, he used his Legion Arm puppet string and launched into the roof, using it as a grappling hook to get back up.

There was nothing, no clue, no hint, no semblance of new information. Only a graffiti on the walls with the words, “The Floor is lava” with a dumb smiley face.

Pinocchio went outside to greet his father, who almost hugged him before he came out until he realized how dirty he was.

“So that was just a trap, a dead end and we have nothing else” Gemini was frustrated, but they should have known better than to think Arlecchino would always give them clues.

“What are we even supposed to do now?“ Pinocchio was even more frustrated, he felt stupid for falling into his dumb game.

“First you are going to go home and take a bath,” Geppetto said, his son is completely filthy with that strange liquid and he can’t go walking around like that.

For once Pinocchio didn’t argue with his father about the clothes, he wanted to clean himself as soon as possible, his hair was all sticky now, hopefully, his dress won't get ruined and can be saved by a good cleaning, since Antonia picked it for him, that will be the most likely case.

“We should leave now before we gain the attention of others” Geppetto knew that it was their time to leave behind this mess that only got them into more trouble.

Pinocchio couldn’t wait to go home, take a bath, and go to bed. All of this ended up being a waste of time.

As they were both departing, Geppetto started to think out loud.

“Should we get the help of a detective? Perhaps a stalker? Arlecchino is smart, I don’t doubt his traps would be more dangerous” Geppetto then shook his head, “No, getting more people involved will only be a disaster”

Pinocchio walked wondering if there truly was anyone out there who could help them in this situation who would not reveal anything to anyone.

“Besides what are they going to do?” Geppetto sighed, “It’s not as if anyone can get inside the mind of a killer, only murders can do that and where would we even find someone like that?”

—-

“Have you come to see me kind one?” Cecile’s voice was calm, kind, and collected.

The next morning, Pinocchio wasted no time in going to the Cathedral, thankfully asking to see Cecile was something easy. Currently, they are in a separate room meant for private prayer.

“Um Cecile…” Pinocchio wasn’t sure how to bring this up, “You know how you gave me that letter, where you…confessed to killing people”

“Yes of course” Cecile honestly never thought she would survive, even if she had repented many times before the eyes of God and before Andreus, she had felt it proper to write a final confession, “Is it troubling you? Knowing what I did?”

Pinocchio stares silently at her for a few moments, she is the only person he knows who can help, it’s just that…

It’s just that how does he even properly ask this?!

“No, not at all” That’s a lie, he does find it uncomfortable sometimes, “Let me explain”

He gives her a brief explanation of Arlecchino, although she is aware of the killing as all of Krat, like most not knowing the truth until now, Pinocchio tells her how he is looking for him.

“So if you could please, um, tell us how he might act next, me and Gemini would really appreciate it” Pinocchio gave out an awkward laugh.

Cecile stares at him quietly, did he offend her? Is she mad at him? Ugh, he should have never-

“What do you wish to know?” Cecile has a creepy smirk on her face.

Pinocchio could feel shivers down his spine, he showed her Pulcinella’s information, the maps of the killings, media articles, autopsy reports of the victims, and his traps and riddles.

“Mmm,” Cecile was thinking, carefully analyzing what she was looking at, “So you say he was aware of what your clothes were yesterday?”

Pinocchio nodded, Cecile then looked at the map again, then at some pictures.

“Each time he has called you, he knows where you are, one would assume he is nearby however he isn’t going to be an inch closer to any of you” Cecile’s kind voice changed to a serious somber tone.

“What do you mean?” Gemini wasn’t following, “But then how does he know all of that?”

“He isn’t spying on you per se” Cecile kept analyzing the information, rather he is spying on Venigni, considering how he is a public figure, his information is available to almost everyone”

Venigni works at many places and has a full schedule, while outside he is never seen alone.

“Therefore, he only has to know two things: When Venigni enters a place and when he exits it”

That means that when Pinocchio waved goodbye at the factory yesterday morning to his father and uncle, Arlecchino was there looking. At night he didn’t have to be there, knowing that Venigni would leave late at night was enough.

“But then how does he know when to call?” That didn’t make sense to Pinocchio, maybe before when Arlecchino had a connection because of the Ergo in Arche Abbey, but now it should be impossible.

“The first two are easy” Explained Cecile, “Two homes, yours and Mr. Venigni’s; easy to call the number when he is sure that all of you are there”

Cecile then pointed at the telephone next to the factory, “Look at this”

Pulcinella had wasted no time in investigating that phone, in his eyes, he saw nothing of importance, Cecile on the other hand…

“The phone rang 5 times before you picked it up” Cecile then stared directly into Pinocchio, “He isn’t being precise, he didn’t know the exact hour, just an estimate, therefore he was only hoping you would eventually pick it up”

Cecile continued, “No one would pick up a random phone call in the middle of the night, however, you and your family are aware of his tricks, so he knew that it had to be only you who would answer”

She looked at the map more closely, “He is certainly planning something in Lorenzini Arcade by looking at his movements, although I doubt a trap for you is there considering how crowded the place is, there is the possibility it will lead you to a different trap, trying to confuse you”

“Are you absolutely sure he isn't spying on me?” Pinocchio wasn't fully convinced.

Cecile thought about it in more depth, “I think… I think that he does track your activities but maybe after the fact, or while you are about to leave, I do have some doubts, but I don't doubt what I told you about his methods on Venigni”

“Woah” Gemini was amazed, “You can tell all of that? But what about the killings?”

“Aside from his taunting, the murders he commits are of no true importance to him” Cecile went on, “He loves to kill, loves the thrill, loves the panic, it’s only a hobby, his true goal, has always been to torment Lorenzini Venigni”

“How can you be sure of that?” Pinocchio asked.

“Well…” Cecile stared more intensely at Pinocchio with a grin on her face, “It feels good to have others' lives at your mercy, sometimes, it’s not always about sending a message, sometimes it’s because you do what you have to do what you have to make yourself feel alive”

Pinocchio was extremely thankful as well as completely terrified.

Both of them stood up, Pinocchio was ready to leave before Cecile stopped him, hugging him, it felt a little strange to hug someone now with only one arm so she pulled the boy a little closer to her. Pinocchio hugged her back, even if it felt a little strange to hug her after how she was acting.

“Each day, I repent for what I did, I know I can never undo what has been done; I know that taking my life will not solve anything, will not absolve me from this guilt” Cecile cried, “I can only repay those I hurt by doing the opposite, by sharing kindness, by helping those in need”

Cecile does what she can to help the community, give others a better life, help the poor, tending to those who are sick. It’s harder when she only has one arm, although she has been offered a prosthetic before, she declined, saying this is her cross to bear.

She wants to make this world a better place, because she truly is sorry, she knows that there is a chance her sins might never be forgiven, that she might go to hell. Cecile is okay with that, she isn’t doing this only for the sake of salvation, she is doing it as penitence.

Cecile let go of Pinocchio, gently touching his face, “I will always pray for your safety and maybe I am naive, maybe I am projecting my issues, however, I pray that this cruel puppet also repents for his actions”

Pinocchio is aware that will never happen, Arlecchino is too far gone for any reason, however seeing Cecile like this, he no longer feels afraid. Appreciating the bond he has with her.

“I am sure the next time he will call or send his message, will be when Mr. Venigni is by your side, he will communicate with you sooner than later,” Cecile said, “His main goal, is to cause suffering, yet he is cocky, I have a feeling he will reveal his location, when he does, not only will that be a trap, but something more, I have this feeling he will go after someone who is close to Venigni when one would think they would be safe”

It was time for Pinocchio to leave, with this kind of information, he was getting closer and closer to the truth.

Meanwhile, at Eugéne's shop, a certain someone had arrived.

“Oh, hello Mastiff!” She said excitedly she was growing fond of this stalker, “What can I help you with? Do you need a new weapon?”

“Actually” Hanuel took a deep breath, “We need to talk”

[juriyuna]

Urara in her release event: "Everyone in Futatsugi cares for each other, and places their utmost trust in one another..."

me with my single braincell, thinking about how the Bat of Monzenbashi would fit into this:

I wanna know how things would've played out if the Bat didn't get killed by Janomiya... (technically we don't see/hear her soul gem break!! but i digress) Like, would she have agreed to work nicely with the rest of Promised Blood, or would she have mostly kept her nose out of Juri and Yuna's business?

I feel like she would've been forced to settle down some, given that all three of the other gangs are now united. Ambitious as she is, there's no way she and her remaining few lackeys (if they didn't ditch her yet) would stand a chance against the whole rest of the city.

But given that her MO seems to be "kill anyone who goes against me before I end up being the one who gets hurt", I can't imagine she'd be quick to learn how to trust, either. Something had to have given her her current mindset; it's gonna take work to get past that. I think it'd be sorta like... rehabilitating a shelter dog that bites everyone who looks at it. She'll come around eventually, though it'll take some time and coaxing to get her to be less aggressive and domineering. domestication arc lol

As the leader of Monzenbashi, the Bat did keep her girls safe from rival gangs (even if... she would kill them if they screwed up too many times...). And she was quick to work with Ranka again in Ryuugasaki, despite Ranka being directly responsible for Monzenbashi's downfall. (I'm gonna assume that when Juri took down Monzenbashi, Ranka did not fight by the Bat's side-- but she still trusts Ranka in the end, even through this moment that reads as complacency at best and betrayal at worst.)

... this got away from me a little bit. [coughs] ANYWAY what I was trying to say was that the Bat does have the capacity to trust/care for other people, so although her relationships with others may never go beyond fair-weather friends, I could see her helping them on an on-call basis.

She isn't gonna go out of her way to lend a hand to people out of the goodness of her heart or whatever; screw 'em. She still hates Juri, and she didn't want a part in the Torayamachi/Ryuugasaki war in the first place, so she doesn't have any strong sense of team loyalty, either. But if someone from either side asks her for a favor, y'know... sure. Why not. Especially if she gets something out of it (grief seed, spare change, an IOU), she may as well. With the gang wars finished, it's not like she's got anything left to lose.

I doubt the majority of the Janomiya girls would forgive her, but I don't think she'd care much. Torayamachi... wanted peace over violence, so who knows if they'd like her, either. Most Ryuugasaki girls would probably just shrug at her war crimes and be like "eh, whatever; we've all been there", so there's that.

Honestly, getting the other girls to trust the Bat might be the bigger feat here. Yeah, she's not a threat anymore now that she's drastically outnumbered, and her strength and lack of morals make her a great ally in the Revenge On Kamihama plan, but that doesn't erase the past... The fact that she terrorized and/or abused so many of the weaker girls still remains. Those scars are gonna take a while to fade.

On the bright side, after all of the horrible things she's done, other Futatsugi magical girls don't have to worry about her going "That plan is too violent; I'm not working with you" or anything. Call on her for whatever and she'll be down for it, as long as you uphold your end of the deal.

(extra thought: If she had to choose a side like in MS8, I think she'd still begrudgingly align herself more with Ryuugasaki than Torayamachi because that's where Ranka is. But she doesn't hold any personal animosity towards Yuna or anything, either.)

(... extra extra thought: this is, of course, assuming that her nonchalance towards the Tora/Ryuu debacle + her obsessive hunger for power wouldn't lead her to ditch Promised Blood for Neo-Magius instead. Similar to Ao, I could see the Bat potentially getting swayed to NM if she thought it would ensure that she'd never get hurt again. 蝙蝠 is colloquial for "turncoat", after all..... but that is a post for another time 🦇)

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (8/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: You and Spencer meet at your favorite coffee shop - and he asks you to spend some time with him.

Warnings: some minor talk about injuries, mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: hello friends! here’s part 8! I hope you like it. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

As you enter the bullpen through the glass door, you are immediately stopped. "What are you doing here?", Emily asks, confused. She's standing at JJ's desk, both of them holding a coffee cup, looking at you in amazement. "I told you to stay home."

As you set your bag down on your desk, you wince briefly. "It's boring at home. Besides, it's just a minor bruise, Emily. And sitting at a desk doesn't require much physical exertion. I can handle it."

JJ presses her lips together. "I thought the doctor put you on bed rest because you narrowly escaped a broken rib." You give her a meaningful look. "Sorry, Y/N. You should take that seriously."

"You don't have to stab me in the back, though", you say playfully, and the three of you grin. "Desk duty?" Your eyes shift to Emily. She shakes her head and you sigh.

"We're on a case, Y/N. So no desk duty, and like JJ said, the doctor put you on bed rest."

You cross your arms in front of your chest, carefully, because the skin underneath is stained dark blue. You took quite a beating on your last case. The unsub kicked you in the torso with all his might as you tried to wrestle him down. And even though the pain shot through your whole body like a lightning bolt, you managed to do it.The result is a bruised rib that hurts a lot, but isn't so bad that you can't go on a mission.

Only Emily disagrees. "Go home, Y/N. Get some rest. If we need your help, we'll get back to you." You want to say something else, but she beats you to it. "That's an order."

Reluctantly, you shoulder your bag and try not to let the pain in your torso show. "You promise to call me if you need anything, though?"

Both women paint a cross over their chests where the heart is located. "Word of honor."

You don't feel like going home, because there's absolutely nothing waiting for you there. You could clean - which is against the bed rest, which you wouldn't stick to anyway - or cook something sensible, because your stomach has only had to experience ready-made meals and fast food lately, but you don't feel like it. Although it would be just the thing for you. A bit of everyday life would do you good, maybe take your mind off Spencer for a bit, and honestly, your life needs to get back on track.

So before you head to your local supermarket, you step into your favorite coffee shop. The smell of coffee wafts into your nose and the atmosphere alone warms you up, even though it's not particularly cold outside. You stand at the end of the queue, examining the pastries displayed in a small window. After ordering, you wait patiently for your drink and the muffin you couldn't pass without your mouth watering. The barista wishes you a nice day as she hands you the cup and you make your way towards the exit.

"Y/N?"

Your gaze lingers on Spencer, who is sitting at one of the small tables.  In front of him are several loose sheets of paper that take up the entire table and an empty coffee cup. You bite your lower lip. It's been several weeks since you've seen each other, as Spencer's one hundred days of work has expired and he's now teaching some students. As he smiles at you, you realize how much you've missed him these past few days.

"Hi, Spencer", you smile at him as you stand in front of his table. Your fingers curl around the back of the empty chair in front of you. "How are you?"

He reaches for the slips of paper in front of him and folds them before putting them in his pocket. "I'm fine, thanks." He closes his bag before placing it on the table. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a case to solve?"

"Emily gave me the day off. I took a kick and bruised up on our last case, so I'm not allowed to go out on case", you explain, shrugging. Spencer looks you up and down. He's probably trying to figure out where the injury is. "She sent me home again this morning."

Spencer gets up from his chair, shoulders his bag, and walks with you toward the exit. "So what are you planning to do today?"

"I was thinking about cooking myself something delicious and doing a little cleaning at home. To bring a bit of everyday life into my life," you answer and your tone tells him that you don't feel like it at all. "I'm not so sure about the cooking yet, though. After all, I don't want to risk food poisoning."

Spencer has to smile in response. "I can remember that. Everyday life isn't quite your thing."

You nod and pucker your mouth. "Right. But  I have to do something. And just sitting around at home waiting for the day to be over isn't an option."

Together, you walk a short distance, chatting about his students until you arrive at your car. You push the button on your key and hear the central locking system open. You open the driver's door. "See you around, Spencer," you say goodbye and are about to get in, but Spencer stops you.

"You could come with me", he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah. I'm about to teach another class, and you're welcome to join me." Blush rises to his face, and you're not quite sure if he's serious and really wants you there. But when he lifts his gaze from his shoes and looks you in the eye, your doubts evaporate. "So?"

"I'm actually Emily's phone joker“, you give out, because really, you're not sure spending the day with Spencer is the right thing to do, even if you'd only be sitting in the back of the lecture hall. "She wants to call me if they need help." You see Spencer's expression darken. Apparently he was excited to have you on board today, and your cancellation actually seems to hit him a bit. You take a deep breath. "But I'll still be happy to come along. If Emily does call, it could be very interesting for your students."

A smile spreads across his face, reaching up to his eyes. "Well then, let's go. Class starts in twenty minutes."

There's something comforting about sitting in the back of the lecture hall and listening to Spencer explain things to his students. It reminds you of the time you sat on your couch in the evenings, eating delivery dinners and watching documentaries. The TV sound was always on mute because Spencer's knowledge was so vast that his versions of the documentaries were much more exciting than the original versions. Those evenings had been perfect. Listening to him now, with a passion that seems all too familiar, the way he explains things and the looks he casts around the room, some sticking to you, come pretty close to those perfect evenings.

The ringing of your phone snaps you out of your thoughts. The students in front of you turn around in annoyance and you apologize as you get up from your seat. Spencer looks at you questioningly, but you just press your lips together into a thin line as you look at him and leave the lecture hall.

"What's up, Emily?", you ask her as you answer the call.

"The unsub always leaves puzzles at the crime scene", she begins without greeting you. You don't blame her. "And always different puzzles. Self-created crossword puzzles, number sequences, picture puzzles and symbol series, for example. Maybe you can take a look at them sometime." Emily emails you the puzzles, and before you can ask how the case is going, the line goes silent. Typical Emily.

You open the emails and are inundated with images. Emily definitely didn't overstate. As you head back into the lecture hall, you give Spencer a meaningful look.

"Excuse me for a moment", he says to his students and is with you in just a few steps. "Does Emily have something for us?"

Us. As he says the word, you warm to it. While he doesn't mean it the way you'd like, you're incredibly glad that he considers you friends. Although, really, you don't deserve it, because it's all based on a lie. You push the thought aside. Spencer is standing so close to you that you can breathe in his perfume and feel the warmth of his body. You have to pull yourself together not to inhale his scent deeply.

"The unsub leaves puzzles at the scene", you describe the situation, handing him your phone so he can take a look. You can practically see his brain start to rattle and before you can do anything, Spencer walks forward again.

"So, guys. This", he turns back to his students and gestures for you to join him with a wave. Tense and a little nervous, you stand next to him and raise your hand. "Is my colleague and friend SSA Y/N Y/L/N. Since she sustained some injuries on her last case, she is assisting me today." He hands your phone back to you. "Can you project the pictures on the wall somehow?" he whispers to you and you have to grin. The guy has several PhDs, but can't manage to connect a cell phone to a projector. You tap the screen a few times, playing it safe to make sure the projector on the ceiling is actually turned on, and moments later the puzzles appear on the wall behind you. Spencer smiles at you.

"Today you have the honor of working on a real and, more importantly, current case", Spencer speaks to the students again, curiosity spreading across their faces. They all sit up straight and listen intently as he paces. "Unit Chief Prentiss and our team are in the field right now and have found these puzzles at the crime scenes. Please take a look and let us know your thoughts. Maybe you can give us an important clue."

Immediately, the students start talking to each other, sharing theories and jotting down their thoughts on paper. Spencer and you lean against his desk at the time, watching the scene. You keep noticing how some of the female students give him ogling looks, but as soon as they meet your gaze, awkwardly turn back to the task at hand.

"How many people audit in your class?", you ask him quietly, Spencer shrugs. "Because I think the girls in the first two rows are just here to stare at you." You nudge him with your shoulder and stifle a grin.

"You and your imaginations", he replies, but he has to grin, too. He opens his mouth, about to say something else, but a student beats him to it.

"Professor, agent, I think we've found something."

And indeed. Together you are able to crack the puzzles, which takes the rest of the day, but neither you two nor the students complain about it. After you update Emily on your progress and send the students home, they actually thank you and ask if you'll keep coming to class.

As Spencer packs up his things and the last people leave the lecture hall, you wait patiently for him at the exit. The day has been pretty exhausting, but you're glad you got to spend it with Spencer. You're sure that today is a very good start for a friendship. And that alone makes your heart beat a little faster.

A young woman suddenly stops in front of you, and you avert your eyes from Spencer. You recognize her. She was sitting in the front row until just now, and she was one of the girls staring at Spencer throughout.

"Agent Y/L/N?" She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and chews on her bottom lip. She's visibly nervous. "Can I ask you something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Sure."

"Are you ... I mean ... are you and Professor Reid a couple?", she stammers. "I know it's a pretty personal question. But I've noticed the way they look at each other and -"

"We're colleagues and friends", you interrupt her immediately. You don't sound harsh, but your tone doesn't leave room for another question either, so she turns away with a quick nod of her head and disappears from the lecture hall. You look after her.

How did you look at each other? The way friends do, right? Maybe there was some longing in your looks, after all, you love Spencer, but you're pretty sure that wasn't the case with him. When Spencer walks up to you and puts a hand on your arm, you flinch briefly in shock. "Are you okay?"

You nod at him. "Uh, yeah." Together, you leave the room. Should you tell him about the question? Or would that be weird in light of the fact that you had actually been a couple once? "She had another question." Spencer looks at you, a sign that you should keep talking. "She asked if we were a couple." At your answer, he stops and looks at you curiously. "She was one of the ones eyeing you. She said we looked at each other in a special way, or something. But I think she just wanted to know if you were available." The situation is so weird that you can't stop talking. Luckily, Spencer eventually interjects.

"And what did you say to her?" He sounds unsure.

"What would you like me to have said to her, Spencer? We're colleagues and friends." You adjust the bag on your shoulder and smile slightly at him before turning and continuing towards the exit. You want to escape this moment and are relieved when the wind outside hits your face and cools your heated skin. Finally, you can take a breath.

You don't see Spencer's expression twist and his voice is just a whisper that you don't notice. "Right ... friends."

next part

- tags - 

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 5 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki returns to claim what is his - willing to kill everyone in his way.

Warnings: Angst.

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @catlover092402152, @hi-there-x, @haloangel391, @misssilencewritewell, @babayaga67, @accioremuslupinn, @mochimommy2002, @just-someone-who-likes-to-write, @damalseer, @bethanystan, @loser-alert, @star017, @nina1800, @queenariesofnarnia, @n1fangirlsblog, @vengefulsokovian, @lunamoonbby, @freyagallileaevans, @emmojoy, @literate-lamb, @aninnai​, @justsomerandompersonintheworld​

A/N: Sweet little Feedback Anon, I took your suggestion. You know which one I mean if you see it. (:

Btw guys I have like 60+ Drafts I need to finish so pls be patient with me.

Word sure spreads fast among the folk of Asgard, about Odin’s shame and your innocence.

Since his lies had weakened the favor among his subjects, the Allfather was desperate to clean his name and reputation, ultimatively inviting you to come back.

But you declined, stating that this wasn’t your homeland anymore ever since they betrayed you to fullfill their selfish ambitions.

However, Asgard’s hypocrisy wasn’t the only reason you chose to stay on Midgard - you just knew that it would break your heart every day you’d spend on a place with so many memories connected to your deceased husband.

Earthlings, the people of S.H.I.E.L.D and especially Thor’s friends Jane and Erik Selvic had basically become like family to you. Even though they could never fill the void Loki had left in your heart, things being like this was more than you could wish for.

“Lady Y/N!” a familiar voice greeted you, yet his worried tone startled you. Thor was already standing in your room, practically kicking in your door as he was visibly upset.

Immediately, you put Liam into his crib and rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?!”

A strange mix of horror and excitement was stretched across his face, making your heart sink to your stomach.

Actually, you didn’t want to involve yourself with the Asgardians any further. All you ever wanted was for your child to be healthy and happy, no matter where this was possible.

But Thor was still your cherished brother-in-law, as well as a wonderful uncle, never ceasing to provide for you and Liam, even when everyone else had forsaken you.

Yet what he was about to tell you let your blood run cold: 

“Loki is back.”

Immediately, all the walls you had built up over those past months were crumbling as you collapsed to the floor, crying out of anger and relief.

“H-How? How is this even possible?! He’s dead! Loki died!”

“Pull yourself together, Lady Y/N!” Thor has always been a rather touchy-feely kind of person, in opposite to his raw and bulky appearance.

But right now, he wouldn’t dare to hug or console you, like he’d usually do. Instead, he was offering you a hand to help you get back up - which you wouldn’t be able to take just yet. “There’s no use in overthinking this! We need to hurry!”

“What do you even want me to do?” you wondered, because if your husband was really alive, you’d doubt him wanting to see you. “He’s changed...killed a lot of people before he disappeared. And still, I don’t wanna fight him. How can I be of any help at all?!?”

“We know he’s probably after you and the child” the God of Thunder stated coldly. “So you need to be transferred to a safe location.”

What can be more safe than a base of S.H.I.E.L.D? If only you knew he had already demolished a whole, giant outpost of them with ease...

“I’ll explain everything to you on the way.” “Let me quickly get the baby.”

“What, did you forget the name of your nephew already?” you chuckled awkwardly, but seeming to have struck a nerve.

Thor was only slowly approaching the crib in which your lovely baby was resting, staring at it with awe while his trembling hand caressed Liam’s cheek.

“Incredible...” he whispered mainly to himself,  as if this wasn’t the thousandth time he would lay eyes upon him. “He’s just like I remember him.”

Something was off.

Of course Thor had a spare key to your flat, but you had never heared him unlock it - he had just kind of appeared in the middle of the room. Could as well be that you had been to invested with something, or buried in thought to notice him, and yet...

“Wait” you stated, making him flinch away from the child and turn around. “My knees are still weak. Help me up first.”

With heavy steps, Thor would force himself away from the crib and towards you again, lending you another hand and easily pulling you up - just for you to point a sharp dagger to his throat.

“Lady Y/N, when did you summo-”

“Shut up!” you hissed, and the god held his hands into the air to assure his goodwill. "Drop the disguse. Now!”

The man let out an amused huff, a taint of green covering his body to revert it back to normal - revealing your husband.

His hair had become longer, and dark rings showed how devastating those past months went by for him. Yet still, he was unmistakingly your husband.

Yet a faint, mad spark in his eyes was what worried you the most.

Now he was holding a knife as well, both circling around the crib with a knife at each other’s throat, as if to dance with each other.

“So it’s really you, Loki?”

“The one and only” he declared, chest swelling with pride at his performance and completely ignoring your hostile undertone. “I missed you painfully, my sweetling.”

He looked to the side where your son was still sleeping soundly, regret clearly visible on his face. “Wha- what name did you give our child?”

“Liam it is.”

The smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, swallowing harshly to surpress the sobs wanting to break free. “Beautiful name. Very well chosen.”

Pain was stretching across your features, desperately trying for the dam of emotions to not break. The dagger in your hand vanished, rather choosing to reluctantly caress his cheek - to make sure this was really him, and not one of his illusions.

And it was really him, leaning into your touch with a content purr. “Yes, my love, just like tha-”

A loud noise drang to his ear, effectively cutting him off. He needed a second to understand that it was in fact you slapping him what caused the interruption.

“Dear, wait, I-” Another hit, this time it was your knee digging into his groin, making him gasp in pain.

With his current power, it would be a piece of cake to block you - yet he knew that after everything that had happened to you, and everything he had done...

...it was what he deserved. So he would allow you to let off some steam.

Yet much to his surprise, you were done already - now grabbing desperately on his cloak and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, dropping his weapon as well to embrace you fully, lips mingling with each other over and over again.

Oh, how long had both of you craved for each other?

“Sorry” you panted as your lips finally parted, “Just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Do not apologize, my love” Loki declared, chin resting atop of your head, still no intention to let go off of you. “I deserve far worse than that.”

You looked up to him, the kiss having made something surface in his eyes: So solemn, and incredibly fragile, it made your heart ache.

“Wha- what happened to you? Where have you been all this time?”

Loki’s face contorted at the question, as if the thoughts in his mind were physically painful. But his mind was clouded, unable to make his proper memory resurfacing. “Places far beyond your imagination, dear. And I have learned many things.”

“I-I thought I had lost you...” you ultimatively began to sob, face dug into his chest.

“No” the god whispered softly, his gaze still unwavering. “You always have me. I promise.”

“What now?” you sniveled as he gently pet your head, just as back in good old times. “Where do we go?”

“What do you mean?” Loki’s features creased into a slight frown, “We stay here. There’s no need to leave or flee.”

“Bu-” you hesistantly took a few steps back, to take in his full reaction. “But you’re a wanted criminal, Loki! On Asgard as well as Midgard!”

His manner became more defensive again, glee radiating off of him. “Oh, my sweet, innocent Y/N...still the idealist, I see.”

“And you are still insufferable” you scoffed back, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

Actually, you dreaded the answer.

The man seemed to be thinking about many things at once, eyes narrowing before he finally took a hold of your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly when he saw that you were still wearing his ring - even after everything that had happened.

“Y/N, my love, those deaths were a necessary evil.” He tried to peck a quick kiss on your hand, but you pulled away at those words. “The only crime I feel guilty for is having left the love of my life. But don’t you worry, I’ll make up for it.”

He summoned a staff, glowing in the same blue as the tesseract - and much to your terror, his eyes started to adapt to them as well.

“I will create my own kingdom, Y/N! Here on Midgard, with you as my queen! This is what you deserve, my love! You and our child will have everything you desire and more!”

“This is madness, Loki!” It wasn’t the first time he had heared that.

People always treated him wrongly, afterwards wondering why he was trying to create felicity on his own. “Is it?” he croaked, “Is it madness for a person born to rule two kingdoms to create a home he never had?”

His plan did not merit awe or any such feelings he hoped you to have - the only person in the world he thought would understand him.

“Loki, what your parents have done to you is inexcusable, yet-”

“They’re not my parents!” he screamed enraged, eyes then widened in shock that he had raised his voice at you. “My apologies, I...”

“They have kept the truth from you so that you’d never feel different. You know you’re their son, and the Asgardians are your family. You must know that!”

“You speak like mother” he spat, and still Frigga’s words he could not shake off as easily as Odin’s. “There is no going back to that place, and Jotunheim I never had a connection with. You most likely heared that I tried to kill Laufey, yes?”

Nodding in silence, you nervously bit your lip. “Please...” Wrapping your arms around him and placing one ear at his sternum, you could clearly hear how his heart was fighting a war, struggling to decide.

“You can still stop whatever you were gonna do. We can start anew somewhere, lead a peaceful life with Liam. I don’t need wealth or power, and you clearly know any of this wouldn’t give you the satisfaction you’re searching for!”

“As always, you’re right” he grumbled deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. “But it’s not that easy, my naive little dove.”

“No~” With his hand on the back of your neck, he infused a powerful magic inside your body, slowly shutting down your nervous system completely. As careful as possible, he cradled you in his arms and slowly led you to the floor, then proceeding to take his heir.

“The only thing I need for myself is our little family - and I will avenge you by murdering anyone that did you wrong, or tries to separate us again.”

[applepiewinchesters]

Don’t Take Him (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Word Count: 2,074

The car couldn’t possibly go any faster as you raced down the practically deserted street. What used to be one of the main roads into the city of Sokovia had become somewhat overgrown and cracked since it’s downfall.

You remembered when it happened. The disaster was on the news for weeks, the huge hole left where the city was, destroyed remnants of the city only further destroyed during the search for survivors, or bodies. The death toll grew every day, it was truly a devastating loss.

With the only surviving royal, Helmut Zemo, thrown into prison, the country was practically demolished and wiped off the map. A lake replaced what was remaining of the city, and a monument was built to memorialize those that had died.

Helmut Zemo was the whole reason you were driving well over the speed limit down a not so safe road.

You hadn’t expected to like him when you first met. You were working at the prison, bringing those in solitary confinement their meals.

He grew on you though, he was smart, funny, and could talk about almost every topic under the sun. You felt for him, you really did, losing his family in the Battle of Sokovia the way he did.

Sure, he may have killed the King of Wakanda and practically became the reason the Avengers nearly disbanded, but he wasn’t a horrible human being, he wasn’t evil. All Zemo had wanted was for someone to be blamed for what happened to his family.

As the years went on you fell for him and he reciprocated the feeling. You told him you’d wait for him, even after getting a new job away from the prison.

What you never expected though was for him to show up at the front door of your apartment, with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson no less, to whisk you away to help him and the other two find out who was making super soldiers and to stop the Flag Smashers.

You were thrilled obviously, he was here, right in front of you, no glass, no cameras watching, but there was a constant nagging in your mind, a nauseous feeling in your stomach that there was no way that this would last.

When the Dora Milaje showed up in Latvia to take him back to prison, that feeling was proven to not just be a “what if”, but more of a constant dread in the pit of your stomach. Neither of you really discussed it, just tried to spend as much time together as possible.

That was of course proven difficult with the Flag Smashers and John Walker getting in the way of everything.

Sam and Bucky of course were no help, they didn’t trust Zemo one bit, which you could understand, but it seemed no one was on your side. The two men even questioned you on how you could be with him.

You tried to explain that even though he had made past mistakes you didn’t think that defined him as a person, and you felt as though you both found each other at the right time. Of course, they both thought that was bullshit.

Everything seemed to be going alright until the Dora Milaje declared Zemo had run out of time and came to collect him. During a whirlwind fight between John, Sam, and Bucky though, the Baron disappeared, apparently escaping through the sewage hole in the bathroom of his home you were staying in in Latvia.

John Walker then brutally killed one of the Flag Smashers in front of maybe fifty people, so after he, Bucky, and Sam all left Latvia, you decided there was only one place Zemo would be.

That was more than 15 hours ago, you’d been driving all night, and your GPS was having a hard time trying to locate a city that no longer existed which only fed your frustration. Although you were beyond pissed he’d left you alone, you had to get him back.

Currently according to the GPS, the memorial was only five minutes out and apparently if you headed straight through the woods to your right you would find it. So, pulling over you jumped out of the car, sprinting into the trees.

You were breathing hard, running faster and faster, fueled only by adrenaline as you were exhausted from driving all night.

You were silently begging that he’d there, that it wouldn’t be too late.

Breaking through the trees you startled the two men standing at the memorial. Bucky was there, pointing a gun at Zemo’s head, and Zemo stood there, calm as can be.

“Don’t!” you shouted running over and putting yourself between the gun and the man you loved.

“Y/N, move,” Bucky told you, face stoic, hand steady as he aimed the gun.

“No,” you said, standing your ground, fists clenched as you tried your best to keep the tears at bay.

You felt hands on your waist as you were gently moved to the side, “It’s alright, angel,” Zemo’s voice came from behind you, “Move aside.”

Turning around, you mentally cursed yourself as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, “I am not going to stand here and let him shoot you,” you said sternly.

Zemo remained calm, giving you a small, sad smile. He took your face in his hands, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Please, let me go sweetheart,” he told you, placing his forehead against yours.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. Your grip was tight, you were holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the Earth.

The familiar scent of his cologne was comforting but only made your heart break further. You were fully crying now, your breath catching in your throat as Zemo’s arms circled around you.

“You’ll find someone else, someone better for you, I promise,” Zemo spoke to you softly. He placed a few kisses on your head, breathing you in for a moment before taking your arms from around him. He was no super soldier but from years of training in the army and special forces, he was strong.

With a push from Zemo you were sent stumbling backwards, Bucky grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you behind him.

“No, NO!” you screamed as Bucky raised the gun again.

“Go ahead,” Zemo told Bucky, giving you one last look before Bucky pulled the trigger.

It took both you and Zemo a moment to realize nothing had happened. Bucky held out his opposite hand, opening it to show the bullets and casings in his hand as he dropped them to ground.

Zemo nodded, accepting that he was not going to die, he was in for something much worse.

“He’s all yours!” Bucky called, looking over Zemo’s shoulder, it was then you noticed three of the Dora Milaje standing there, ready to take Zemo.

You moved from behind Bucky, “No, no please, please,” you begged, moving to grab Zemo again, hugging him tightly.

You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, your face was wet from all the tears, you probably looked like a mess.

“Y/N, let him go,” Bucky told you, trying to coax you away from the man.

“NO!” you shouted, pressing your face into Zemo’s chest this time as he hugged you again.

Zemo ran a hand through your hair, shushing you quietly, trying to comfort you in what was going to be your last few moments together for god knows how long.

“Please moya lyubov', I have to go now, we both knew this would not be forever,” Zemo told you, pulling you off him.

You couldn’t believe he was just accepting this; he was going to be put away for the rest of his life no doubt, somewhere more secure where you would never see him again.

You on the other hand were sobbing as you turned towards the Dora Milaje, “Please! I-I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything! Please! Just don’t take him again, please!” you begged.

The one you recognized as Ayo shook her head, “He must pay for his crimes, he knows what he’s done, let him go little girl.”

Zemo grabbed you, giving you a quick, soft kiss and you grabbed the front of his coat, gripping onto him tightly. Pulling away from the kiss Zemo took your hands in his, bringing each up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay safe angel, alright? Promise me,” Zemo told you, making sure you looked him in the eye.

You could only nod, gripping onto his coat again. “Use your words, promise me,” Zemo spoke.

“I-I promise,” you whimpered, your vision blurring from the tears as you shivered from a cold gust of wind.

Zemo shrugged off his coat, wrapping it around you, you smiled through the tears a bit. Even facing life in prison, he was still a gentleman.

You felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from Zemo. Practically clawing at him you tried to keep him near you, but Bucky was too strong as he held you back.

“James,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the super soldier. “Take care of her, will you?”

You assumed Bucky nodded or gave acknowledgment, because Zemo gave you one last sad smile, “Do not worry moya lyubov', we will see each other again.”

With that, he turned and followed the three warriors towards the jet waiting for them.

Ayo came over, telling Bucky something but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your own begging.

“No, no, no please! Please! I’ll do anything, don’t take him, please!” you were screaming after the three warriors and the man you loved. “Helmut please!”

None of them looked back as you continued to fight against Bucky, trying to escape his grasp to run after them, to do anything to keep them from taking Zemo away.

It was no use, and Bucky only let you go when the four were flying away in the Wakandan made jet.

You collapsed, the stones beneath you no doubt bruising your knees as you fell. Bucky didn’t try to comfort you as you sobbed, burying your face in your hands.

Zemo’s last words to you gave you no comfort as you cried until your throat was raw and you felt as though you were out of tears.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up, Bucky was kneeling in front of you, trying to comfort you now, “Come on kid, you can’t stay here,” he told you.

Silently nodding you took Bucky’s hand as he helped you up, “I’ll drive,” he told you, “I’m assuming you drove?” he asked.

Only nodding again, you gave Bucky the keys from your jeans pocket as you both made your way back into the trees towards the car. You shoved your arms through the too big coat Zemo had given you, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

Your heart felt as though it had shattered, you had just started to feel as though your life with Zemo had just started, and now it had all come crashing down.

You could only hope his words would ring true and you’d see him again.

***

It was weeks later when the shrill ringing of a phone that didn’t sound like yours broke the silence of your apartment.

You were laying on the couch, wallowing in self pity as you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The only solace you’d gotten was when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, had called you to tell you that you were welcome to stay in one of the Baron’s many houses worldwide, any expenses would be paid for by the Baron of course.

Oeznik also reassured you Zemo was doing fine, as fine as fine could be in a maximum-security prison.

Bucky called you as well, keeping his promise to Zemo, you ignored most of his calls though, he was the reason they took him away.

Getting off the couch, you searched for the source of the ringing, finally discovering it was Zemo’s coat you had thrown across the back of one of the kitchen table chairs, where it had sat since you’d put it there.

Rummaging through the pockets you found a phone, it looked older, one of those cheap track phones.

Hesitantly, you flipped it open, the ringing stopped before you spoke, “Hello? Who is this?”

"Printessa, it’s me.”

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing for Zemo and of course it had to be angst lol. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d want more Zemo! Thank you for reading! 

Russian Translations:

moya lyubov' - my love 

Printessa - Princess 

[heavenunderthemoon]

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

"Y/N."

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would've done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren't forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father's life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother's.

"Dad."

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father's abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn't particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father's face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn't and who was to say that it wouldn't happen to you too?

"Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?" He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father's voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn't composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn't afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

"I know, I love you too." You didn't know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn't done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would've said.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug." If you hadn't been so worried that you might die soon you might've found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn't mind it. You didn't mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn't mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It's funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn't learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. "There's no use learning to drive when your mother's here, sometimes me, and the metro, it's useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun."

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

"Yeah."

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother's features and the amusement playing on Foyet's, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

"I'm a terrible driver." You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn't seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn't been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn't miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

"You're good enough."

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

"I think that's good enough, right, Y/N?" The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of...mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father's stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn't smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn't ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn't hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

"Don't touch me." You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn't expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Wow, you've got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner." He chuckled to himself like he said the world's funniest joke, and you glared.

"Leave them alone." Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. "How about this, how about you go hide, I'll give you a head start, and then I'll come find you."

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. "No." You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother's flesh, yet, you couldn't just leave your mother. You couldn't leave her to die.

"Ah, come on. You're a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren't you guys supposed to be fun?" His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn't have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father's height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn't think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy's girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the 'bad guy' in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn't think you would ever be able to ignore that.

"Y/N, go." Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother's lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. "Mom, no." it came out shaky, and you didn't have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn't been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That's how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley's ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother's lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl's cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. "Go, baby. I'll be okay."

No, you won't. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother's arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother's hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn't care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

"I- I love you." It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

"I love you too." Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn't feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father's nightstand. It hadn't been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother's quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

"Y/N!" A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother's body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack's old room- eye's scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn't have much time until he was coming after you.

"I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sang out. He must've taken your mother- your mother's body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn't difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn't it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

"I think I'll lay your body right next to your Mom. You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can be together?" He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack's door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn't known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn't have given the man much thought. You wouldn't have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that's what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father's team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could've been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family's suffering once and for all. You weren't sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren't there before.

"You bitch!"

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn't look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that's for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother's dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn't hear anything that was going on. That he didn't hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn't dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn't died now. If anything, you might've made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That's why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn't really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn't want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that your mother was dead. It wasn't fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

"Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me."

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn't realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek's. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed...feral.

"Y'N, it's me. You're safe. it's me, it's Derek. Put that gun down." It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn't hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother's body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"He's dead. Y/N, he's dead." The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who's blood was that? Was that your mother's? Was that Foyet's? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?' He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man's waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

"Y/N!" Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn't been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn't see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn't even been home very often. Then, you didn't have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

"I'm fine." You took a hand, running it through the boy's ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

"Let's get you checked out, yeah?"

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

You will always be the winter soldier - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Author’s Note: 

This is a flashback of your past with Bucky. Somethings weren’t witnessed by Bucky or you because I just want to give more details about the thoughts of other people as well. So this is definitely written in a third person perspective. This chapter is really long but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. 

Bucky sits in a plane to Munich. Sam got information that the leader of the Flag smashers are currently working there. 

Bucky remembers the last time he was in Germany. It feels like an eternity ago.

„Tell me why I need to watch this series again.“, Bucky looked absolutely annoyed. 

„Its a classic. Everyone knows this series. It’s like general knowledge.“ You answered while scribbling something on your paper. 

„ And why aren't you watching this series?“ 

„Well my love, I know this series by my heart.“, you smiled at him and then saying the exact same thing the actor said on the screen proving him that you really do know this series.

Minutes later you closed your math book with a loud thump and throwing it on the ground. 

"I'm sorry. I don't want to torture you with this series. Maybe I can make it up to you." You winked at Bucky and kissed him on his right cheek. 

„Probably you will find a way.“, Bucky smiled mischievously and kissed you right on your lips with both of his hands on your cheeks. 

You and Bucky weren’t virgins but you both never had sex with each other yet. It made you nervous. 

And Bucky was nervous as well.The last time he had sex was an eternity ago and women changed through the times. Now women are so much more emancipated and strong-minded.

You kissed him. On his face, throat, neck and down his torso. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

In this night you and Bucky didn’t have just sex- you made love that night. It was something absolutely soft, and warm and caring about it. 

There was no much of talking and there was no pressure- it was just pure love without saying the word itself. 

Everything changed from that night on. From that day on you both were a couple, without labeling it.

Two weeks later Bucky accompanied you to university. It was something he did regularly and you enjoyed it. It gave your the feeling he was just a normal guy spending time with his girlfriend. And James from Bucharest was  indeed almost a normal guy. While you were bubbling about a math problem no one except math students could understand, he noticed a man.

Bucky knew when he was being followed and it agitated him. 

Now that he wasn’t just concerned with his life but also concerned with your safety it made him anxious. 

He grabbed your right arm and pulled you in a small alley.

You looked at him confused and scared. „What’s going on?“, you asked not understanding his sudden behavior. 

„I wanted to give this to you.“ Bucky pulled out a small mobile phone from his pocket. You looked confused because you already had a smartphone in your trouser pocket. 

„It’s a safe line. So, if you’re in danger or you just think you’re in danger- call me and I will come and get you.“

„You’re scarring me. Are you in trouble? Are WE in trouble? Do we need to run?“ You looked at him, touching his face to make sure he calmed down.

„No. Don’t worry. Everything’s alright.“ Bucky lied. „I’m just taking precautions.“

You doubted this reassurance.

„I can ditch university. I can come with you.“

„No. It calms me down to know that you’re safe at university.“ 

„Okay. But don’t forget: If you jump, I jump, remember?“ You quoted the movie you both watched last night. 

„You’re stuck with me. Where you go, I go.“

He kissed the palm of your left hand. „I’m not going anywhere.“, Bucky lied again. 

And with that he accompanied  you to university. As he left, you walked into your class and you took out your phone and your homework. You checked the latest news. The day before there was a bombing in Vienna but on this day there were breaking that there’s a picture of a suspect. The picture showed no other than Bucky himself. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn’t think clearly. This explained his behavior and fear. You knew he was innocent- no doubt about that. You knew the man you fell in love with and James would never do such thing. The only conclusion was that he was being fraud by someone else. You decided to skip the class and go home to find James. 

When you arrived outside, the campus was quite empty because the majority of the students were already in their classes. As you walked to the gate a man was calling you.

„Hey! Wait!“ He jogged to you. 

„You’re working with Bucky, aren’t you? You’re his accomplice.“ The man in front of you assumed. 

„None of your business.“, you muttered. You wanted to pass him but he stopped you by grabbing your shoulder. 

„My name’s Sam Wilson and you really need to come with me.“, he said, scarring you with his words.

His grip was so tight that you couldn’t break free.

„Im not coming with you. Who do you think you are?“

„I’m working with Captain America.“ He said. You could hear the pride in his voice.

„So? That doesn’t make you an authority. I don’t trust you.“

„You saw the picture, didn’t you? You saw the picture of him in the newspaper. You don’t strike me as a dumb person, yeah? You know what this picture means. They are after him. They are already here. So I need your help.“

„Why do you need my help? He’s innocent. That picture is fake and I know it. But do you? Do you believe in his innocence or what aim do you really pursue?“

Sam didn’t answer but he also didn’t let go of you. So the only thing that you could do was to kick him between his legs. But your head start wasn’t for long. You can’t outrun an athlete. He caught you with his hand which made you stumbled and you fell face forward on the ground. Your lip was bleeding. 

„Im sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.“

As you looked around you saw police officers pointing their guns at you and Sam. 

„You called the police?!“ You asked unbelievably.

„Ey. They’re pointing their guns at me too. So no- I didn’t call the police.“ 

They handcuffed you both and took off. Sam talked with someone via earpiece: „I’ve got her but the police got us both. I’m sorry.“

At the same time, Bucky, Steve and King T’Challa were also handcuffed. Steve looked at his childhood friend and shared the information Sam just gave him: „I’m sorry, but they’ve got her.“ 

To say that Bucky was furious was an understatement: He would burn down the whole city if they’d hurt her. 

When you arrived at the office in Berlin you couldn’t stop all the questions that were floating in your mind. „Why are we here? Since when is Germany responsible for crimes that happened in Vienna or Bucharest? Why were German police officers in Romania? What the heck is going on?“ You asked but everyone was ignoring you. 

Minutes later a man entered the room and you realized that this was Tony Stark. „Who is that?“ He asked, pointing his finger at you. You didn’t bother to answer him. You just turned your head away. „Alright. Kinda mean but we will get the answers anyway.“ He sat down next to Steve. „Is the thing you have with him even legal?“, he asked you again.

„You tell me. He was born in 1917. I was born 80 years later.“

Tony scrunched up his nose. 

The screen was turned on and you saw James. „Why is he in a cage? Why is there no lawyer? Is this how Germany practices its law now? Did you tell him his right to silence?“ You asked almost aggressively 

„You’re audacious and naive.“, said a man in a suit. 

„Stop insulting me. James is as innocence as I am. He wasn’t in Vienna and I told you that from the beginning. And no one in this damn room is listening. You’re just looking for a guy to take the blame. I don’t know how America treats their suspects but here in Germany they have human rights as well. They have dignity and they are still treated with respect and decency. All people have rights. We learned that 70 years ago and we will never ever forget it, understand?“, you spatted. „You imprisoned and treat him as if he’s a monster.“

„My dear child, do you know what he just did today in Bucharest? The damage he caused?“, the man screamed. 

„But it were you with the loaded guns, right?“

„He’s not just a suspect. He’s the delinquent.“

„In some countries there is a trial for this question to be answered, but you seemed to be hangman and judge in once.“ You provoked him. This was so unlike you that you really couldn’t understand the anger that was inside you. 

„I like her.“ Tony said. „She’s loyal like a golden retriever.“

„Stop insulting me even more. I’m defending the man I love that doesn’t mean I’m a puppy wagging its tail.“ 

Before anyone could say anymore to worsen the situation the power was gone for merely seconds but the power was back, Bucky disappeared from the video. Everyone in the room turned around and looked at you. 

„How are you going to explain this.“ Tony asked you 

„Kid, you stay here. Don’t even think about leaving this room.“ As Tony walked downstairs he asked himself if you’re related to a woman he met over 20 years ago who happens to have the same last surname like you did. No, unlikely. Almost impossible. 

Bucky, in his winter soldier mode only had one aim: to kill as many people as possible. But something was off. He hasn’t been the winter soldier for quite some time and the impact you had. The thought that you were hurt made him even more lethal. His priority was to find you and made sure you were okay. So everyone who fought him was a threat, an enemy.

It ended in a cafeteria where Bucky held a gun to the head of a seemingly important man. Bucky was circled with dozen of agents, all pointing a gun at him. 

„Where is she? Where is (y/f/n)?“ Bucky asked

„She’s okay. You don’t need to worry about her.“, Steve assured Bucky

„I don’t trust you. I need to see her.“ 

„We can bring her here. So you can see it for yourself.“ Steve suggested while Bucky just nodded. 

Steve and Tony ran upstairs and Tony grasped Steve by his arm. „What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring her downstairs to him. He’s dangerous and she’s just a kid. You can’t control him.“

„He isn’t dangerous and I don’t think he would hurt her. After all they are something like a couple. She knows him. And we will be there as well. Trust me, Tony. Nothing will happen.“

So they both accompanied you downstairs. 

You’ve got nervous, shaking uncontrollably. „You don’t have to do this.“ Tony said. 

„And I’m really sorry that I compared you with a golden retriever. I just think that loyalty is a great character trait.“

You smiled at him. „It’s alright. I’m sorry too. For being so angry and impulsive and arrogant.“

„Are you scared?“ Tony asks. „No, I’m not. I trust him. I trust the man I love. He isn’t the winter soldier anymore. And that he remembers me in this moment- that’s a good sign, isn’t it? So I had a little impact on him.“

Steve opened the door. You felt all the eyes of the agents on you. Thats really made you uncomfortable but you tried to ignore and only concentrate on James. You tried to relax. Your hands where cold as ice- something that always happens when you get nervous. You walked towards him. „You need to let go of this man, James.“, you pointed with your eyes at the man. „I’m alright. I’m safe.“ You approached him. „You really need to let go of him.“ Your voice was firmer. „The agents here are scared of you. They see you as a threat. So I’m begging you: let go of him.“ 

And Bucky let go of him. „They hurt you.“ He stated looking at your bruised lips. „No, they didn’t. I stumbled.“ You reassured him. „James, you need to put down the gun as well. The avengers aren’t the enemy. We can trust them. I do. I trust them and I think we might need their help.“ And you kissed him. Right in front of anyone. You heard the thump of the gun greeting the ground as James let go of it. 

You broke the kiss and caressed his cheek. But before Bucky could say anything you looked to your right and something you saw made you so scared. You pushed Bucky with all the strength you’ve got, making him stumble a few steps backwards. But that was enough to take his spot. 

Bucky saw the redness on your shirt before he heard the bang of the gun. Steve and Tony screamed „NO!“, but it was already too late. You looked at it and all the color of your face vanished. You started to fall but Bucky caught you, laying you softly on the ground. Soon you lost you consciousness.

Steve used the chaos to get Bucky out of there. „They will help her. But you need to come. It’s not safe for you here.“ 

During that time agent Sharon Carter kept Steve and Bucky informed but Bucky had a really hard time. „She’s still sleeping. You are not missing anything.“ She assured him. 

When you woke up you were greeted by non other than Tony Stark itself. He read a German magazine. „Do you understand what you’re reading or are you just looking at the pictures?“ 

He looked up and grinned. „Really nice pictures. But I also get help with the translating.“ He pointed to his high technology-glasses. 

„How do you feel?“

„Exhausted but okay.“ 

You looked around and you saw James standing in the door frame. „James“ you whispered, reaching out for him. „I’m so relieved that you’re fine.“ Bucky looked at Tony who faintly shook his head indicating that you were still oblivious about the fight in Leipzig and the separation of the avengers. 

„What happened after I passed out?“, you asked

„You mean after you got shot.“, Tony corrected you. 

„Why did you pack?“, you ask James, forgetting the last question you just asked. 

„I’m leaving for Wakanda. They offered me to free me from the mind control and I’m gonna take that chance.“

„Take me with you. I want to be with you. I can’t imagine a life without you. Please, James.“ 

He looked you deep in your eyes. You could see how he’s debating on the inside. „Okay.“ And he kissed you passionately. 

Tony didn’t like that idea at all. „Okay, lovebirds. We better should look for a doctor to sign the release papers and you can rest a bit more.“ He ushered Bucky out of your room and when the door closed he let go of his facade.

„You can’t take her with you. Thats really selfish of you. She’s kid. She can’t throw away her life for you. She is not your psychologist. You know exactly what you are. You’re a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. You’re destroying her life. And you don’t care because after all you will always be the winter soldier. Nothing will change that.“

Bucky looked at Tony like he just got slapped. „I know who and what I am. I will never be good enough for her. Yeah, maybe I’m selfish taking her with me but I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her and I will protect her. I promise.“

„But can you protect her from yourself?“ 

As you packed your belongings James waited outside your room. „You don’t have to go with him. You don’t need to throw your life away. You don’t owe him anything.“, Tony stated. 

„I’m not throwing anything away. He’s my future. He’s anything I’ve ever wanted. Wakanda will be an adventure and I’m ready to take it.“

Tony suppressed all the things he wanted to tell you. He hugs you and said instead. „If he hurts you in anyway, call me. I’ll come and get you.“ He caress your hair and without noticing he took a single hair of you. He needed to know who you were to him. He couldn’t ignore his curiosity anymore. 

Chapter 6

@inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam @dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64 @agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine @bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213  @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud

[plush-rabbit]

Ultra Gold

Warnings: Dubcon, Noncon, Omorashi, Implied Yandere, Implied Kidnapping

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: It’s here!! I hope you all like it!!

-

He may be cruel and weird, but at least he isn’t starving you. He walks in- in what you would assume is a scheduled time but you wouldn’t know with the lack of clock and boarded up windows that don’t provide any sort of shadows or sun position to at least let you know how long you’ve been here. He’ll come in with a bottle of water and a bowl of fruit or some odd food that’s been sold by a street vendor you once visited before you’ve entered your current predicament. 

Tomura Shigaraki- a man who has committed many crimes that now include kidnapping. You frown. No, he’s kidnapped before so you aren’t even his first in that regard. You’ve been kidnapped by an already established villain for reasons that you are still unsure of. Perhaps you were too nice when you had met him. All you had done is talk to a lonely looking man on the train home, iced coffee in hand that had given you an odd boost of energy and confidence. After that fateful day, you had begun to see more of him, always secluded, never with another person and always seeking you out, making sure that you are alone. You can’t really recall any other time that had given him the wrong idea that you were interested in him romantically. Sure, he was cute with soft blue hair and an almost dangerous smile that was completely snuffed out when he spoke about his interests in gaming and comics. He had the looks of a delinquent and the personality of a soft-spoken nerd. Maybe if he were someone else, you would have grown a crush on him. If he weren’t so creepy, you could have actually fallen for him in a way that counted. 

For now, you rest on a worn bed, clean pink sheets that can barely fit the bed and an old horror manga that leaves you feeling sick in the stomach. The room is neat and empty. Not a single piece of trash that litters the cold floor and only a few books that fill a box in the corner of the room. It was empty when you arrived and the only reason it was filled with something that could entertain you was because you had called him by his name when he asked of you. Tomura. The name makes acid rise in your throat, an odd bubble that makes your mouth burn. 

He’s cruel and weird. He lingers too close to you when you sleep, watching as you eat and drink the things he offers. He touches you experimentally, watching your face twist into a mask of pain and horror to cover the pleasure that courses through your veins when he happens to circle your clit. He doesn’t do anything further than touch you through your underwear and hump your leg like a dog. He pants in your ear and calls your name, twists your nipples until you're crying and begging him to be gentle. He forces you to eat, drenching the soft candy in the water he brings you and stuffing it into your mouth when it has grown soggy enough. 

You tried to fight him in the beginning. You managed a hunger strike and slept the pain away but when he threatened to spit into your mouth like a fletching, you gave in and ate the soft fruit that only made you feel sick late into the night. 

Shadows appear under the door, the voices are muffled and you can hear the snarky laughter of one that’s silenced by a bang against the door. You flinch at the sound and scoot to the corner of the bed, knees pulled to your chest and arms wrapped tight around your legs. The shadows disappear until one is left and like a dog, your mouth salivates and stomach grumbles as the door creaks open. 

Shigaraki walks in with a bowl of fruit in one hand, a water bottle placed meticulously above it. He greets you with a smile, ignoring the look you give him, and sets the food on the floor, the water bottle placed beside it. You wonder if he’s actually interested in you romantically- or sexually- or if he’s just seeing you as some sort of pet. 

“Come on,” he gestures with a hand. “Eat up. I know you’re hungry.” His smile is terrifying, stretching past any reasonable smile you’ve seen before, twisted and wide like it’s been pinned with needles in the corners of his lips. You refuse to move. There’s still a bit of fight left inside of you. His smile falls. “Eat. It’s been a long day for me and if you try to disobey me, I will make you regret it.” His threat is enough for you to scramble into a quick crawl and sit with your legs crossed. 

You hold the bowl in your hands. Watermelon. A bright red color, seedless and huge chunks filling the bowl. Your mouth waters at the sight. It isn’t filling- mostly water-weight, but it’s something. You keep your head low, eyes glued onto the fruit. “Thank you,” you whisper in a low breath. He clears his throat and red sneakers come into your field of vision. “Thank you, Tomura.”

“Of course-” you can hear the smile- “anything for you.” He sits in a mirrored position to you. Legs crossed, hands covered in half-covering gloves as he watches you eat. “Maybe tomorrow I can bring you something a bit more filling.”

Your stomach churns at the word. You have no doubt he would bring you something filling, but you worry what he’ll place inside of the food. You still do. “No.” Your answer is hesitant, and you can feel his eyes on you. “Fruit is fine.” You force a smile to appear on your face as you look up at him. “Really,” you reassure, trying to soften your smile into something more genuine. For emphasis, you stab your fork into the sweet watermelon and bite it with vigor, humming at the taste on your tongue. 

It’s quiet afterwards. Tense and awkward and you want to bury your face into the mattress. Thoughts start to spiral in your head, until you’re gripping the plastic fork in your hand. The bowl is empty. A red-tinged watered resting in place where the watermelon was once plentiful. Your hands shake as you place the bowl down, your breathing taking a sharp inhale as it clacks against the floor. The bottle cap is twisted tightly onto the bottle and you are unable to open it, the sharp grooves digging into your skin. You are unable to open the water bottle. You lower your head and pull the bottle close to you. 

“Can you-”

“Do you-” 

Words are mixed with each other and you clamp your mouth shut. You allow him to continue and watch him with wide eyes. 

You know- you just know- that he’s reading into the words, into the fact that you both spoke at the same time. You know, because if you were in his position, you’d do the same thing. You’d over analyze and then rationalize to avoid hurting your own feelings. But when he has the ball in his court, when he is able to mold what you can and have to say, he is able to read as much as he wants into the shared moment no matter how small. 

When it’s clear that you allow him to speak first, he clears his throat. “Do you want me to open the bottle?” You swallow whatever spit has formed in your mouth- thick and sweet, something that you have to force to go down. 

“Yes, please.” You hold the bottle towards him and his finger grazes your bare skin. And it burns. You try not to pull away too fast, holding the finger close to the palm of your hand, rubbing the pad of your finger over the knuckle that he touched, trying to rid yourself of his touch. The bottle clicks open and he hands it towards you, cap loosened. You take it slowly avoiding touching him with as much ease and grace that you can muster. “Thank you,” you hesitate, the rim of the bottle against your lips, “Tomura.” You close your eyes and drink the water, gulping it down until the bottle thins as the air and water are sucked out of it. An inch of it remains and you lower the bottle, holding it in your hands carefully, running your thumbs over the ridges of the bottle. It’s tense and awkward- always has been and always will be. 

“Do you need any other books? I think I can find a DVD player somewhere and try to find a movie or something for you?” He actually sounds hopeful and you feel so tired, your eyes growing heavy and emptiness overtaking any energy you once had.

“You know what I want,” you murmur under your breath. “I want to go home.” you emphasis the last word and stare at the words on the plastic wrapping of the water bottle. “You can’t keep me here forever.” He doesn’t answer and you take it as a sign to push forward. “Please Tomura,” your voice cracks, “I miss my friends and family.”

“But you belong to me.” Your shoulders fall at his words, a hand sliding upwards, twisting and untwisting the bottle cap. “I found you and saved you from the horrors of the world, I don’t understand why you can’t see that. You're safe with me. You know that.” The bottle cap twists off and you shut your eyes as you take the final swig from the bottle.

You hold the empty bottle in your hand and he takes it from you. “No.” You swallow an anxiety that you have and force yourself to replace it with false confidence. “You stole me. You took me away from the people that I love.” Your eyes waver as they stare at his. “I want to go home Tomura.”

“No.” He answers simply. 

You gawk at him, disbelief written on your face as you stare at him. “That isn’t fair!” You shout, smacking your thighs with the flat of your hands. “I’m allowed to be a free person. You can’t just keep me here because… because you have this sick obsession with me!” Your hands wave in the air and you take in a deep breath, chest light of air. “You can’t act like some-” you turn to look at the sides as if the answer lies there- “like some child!”

His hands grab roughly at the bottle of water and he crushes it in his hand, the plastic crinkling in a harsh sound that reverbs through the empty room. You swallow what little spit there is in your mouth and stare at the bottle as it is flung towards the wall, bouncing with a thud and landing on the floor. You suck in your bottom lip, your breathing stopping as you refuse to look at him. 

You fail to notice the finger that scratches at the plastic, a long, uncut nail creating a tear in the paper.. “I am not a child,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, you are!” You shout, eyes watering as you stare at him. “You can’t just steal me because you’re doing something you-” you point a finger at him- “think that whatever the hell this is is right. You’re just some bratty little kid. For fuck’s sake!” You slam your hands on the floor and he narrows his eyes at you. “I want to go home!”

It’s silent for a moment, the room only filled with your heavy breathing from the yelling- from the emotions that have piled up, from the solitude that you’ve been forced to endure because of some inept weirdo who wanted to save you as if he were the very thing that he hated. “You’re being a brat,” he says in a condescending voice. It’s like he’s speaking to a child, a dotting smile on his face as he lowers himself to the ground. A hand grabs at your chin and forces you to look at him, fabric scratching at your skin and nails sharp on you. His smile is soft, eyes scrunched up as the corners of his lips push upwards. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” His eyes widen expectantly, his smile now forced and thin. “Okay?” You don't answer, and instead bite the inside of your cheeks. His smile falls and the grip on your face tightens. “I don’t want to repeat myself.”

“You’re in charge,” you mutter through squished lips. “I’m sorry, Tomura.” His smile returns and he releases your face. You force yourself to not soothe over the burning sensation where he touched you. 

“Good girl,” he tells you. He leans towards you and kisses your temple, pulling away with a serious look on his face. “Don’t make the mistake again.” He grabs the fruit bowl and stands, letting out a breath. He turns on his heel, walking away from you, in a steady stride. 

Your brows furrow and your mouth falls in a frown. “Wait,” it comes out in a soft whisper, you turn and sit on your knees and shuffle towards him. “Wait,” you call out again, “Tomura?” he stops in his tracks and turns his head to the side, a scarlet eye glinting under the light. He hums in a question, and waits for you to speak. “What- What about-” the question sounds embarrassing spoken out loud but you’re sure that it’s another tortuous method of his. What about- you know?” Your eyes glance to the side and you clear your throat. “The- The bathroom break?”

He turns around to face you, head tilted to the side and he sighs. “This is just to make sure that you remember your place next time.” Your eyes widen and as if like it was just waiting to appear at the worst moment possible, you can start to feel the urge to relieve yourself. “Try not to make a mess.” The door closes with a soft click as it always has and you’re left alone.

It starts off as a small build-up. A pressure against your lower stomach that makes your legs start to bounce in a nervous tick. He hasn’t been back. You don’t know how long it’s been but you start to fear he won’t be back. But that’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t ignore you for so long. Not when both of you are so dependent on one another. Attention, the warmth of another, and for you, the source of food. He gives you life, gives you the attention that you have missed for so long, he touches you with rough hands, and gives you a pleasure that you deny yourself in fear that he has cameras hidden in the room that was made- or rather saved- for you. 

The pressure grows, something heavy and throbbing. You lie on the mattress, curled on your side, hands held and arms stretched so it rests between your legs. You whine and furrow your brows. Your body shakes and you try to remember the “hack” that your friend had once told you to in order to stop yourself from the feeling of urination. 

You breath harshly, biting your bottom lip and letting it go once your teeth dig into the soft flesh. You suck in the inside of your cheeks, your molars biting down on the soft flesh. You feel full, a swelling tummy full of water, and it’s painful. It pushes against your lower belly, your heat throbbing the further you keep yourself in this personal hell. 

He might be cruel and perverted, but he’s never withheld something like this from you. You always thought it was some sort of pride on his end, to lead you around the hideout like some sort of ant, walls much too similar for you to make any sense, eyes then covered once he saw your flickering eyes and that’s when you were sure that he kept spinning you around in circles. But now, with his silent goodbye, and lack of checking in on you in who-knows-how-long, you were starting to worry that you wouldn’t be free to go to the bathroom anytime soon.

You are still above the bed, slowly moving a leg outwards only to stop and whine when a dribble of urine rushes out. You suck in a harsh breath and dig your nails into your thighs. You try to ignore the feeling, trying to steady your breath as everything begins to twist in it’s feelings. The pain is replaced by something more pleasurable, a throbbing against your cunt and your eyes water, a high-pitched gasp escaping past your lips. You rock yourself against your forearms, the friction relieving your mind from the unbearable pain that strained against you seconds ago. It’s pathetic, rocking yourself against your arms, finding pleasure in this humiliating experience where he has metaphorically held your bladder hostage. You let out another gasp, high and broken, biting on your lower lip to silence the noises.

The door creaks open as you hump yourself on your arms, eyes shut tight and breathy moans filling the room. You are unaware of the eyes watching you, the soft click of the door that matched the one done so long ago. Your toes curl and your nails press deeper into your skin. The friction burns well, sick gratification coursing through your veins.

“I never took you for having a piss kink,” he mutters, a knee pressed down against the mattress. You freeze in place, cunt tightened as if that would prevent urine to leak. “Don’t stop. It’s actually interesting. I’ve never seen you actually pleasure yourself. And with a full bladder? You really are some sort of degenerate.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks and you can feel your face burn in humiliation, your heart races and pulses in your neck, a heavy pounding that makes your ears throb. 

“I-” you lick your lips- “I need to pee, Tomura,” you croak out, pinching your eyes tight until colors and shapeless forms start to hover in your vision. “Please.” You open your eyes and and breathe heavily, your chest rising and heaving, nipples rigid and poking through the thin of your shirt. A tingle spreads from your cunt, making you tighten your legs, clit throbbing and your sex weakening. 

The bed creaks and you suck in a deep breath through pursed lips. Urine leaks out in small dribbles and you remove your arms, clamping your legs tight. You turn on your back and can feel a slick slide down. 

Heavy hands lay on your ankles and your vision clouds with tears. You yelp as your ankles are gripped and you’re pulled down the bed until your legs are bent over the bed. “It’s a heavy feel against you, throbbing and awful, pleasurable and you place your hand over your mouth, your knuckles touching your cheek. Hands slide up your legs and you release a bit more, your underwear growing wet and sticking to your skin. You bite on the skin exposed to you, pain flaring in sharp tingles.

Clothes are pulled from your skin and you lay bare on the bed, your underwear around your ankles. “A wet spot,” he hums. “Are you aroused or are you just pissing yourself like some filthy whore?” You bite deeper on your skin and whine loudly, trying to close your legs only to be paused by a hand that meets at your inner thigh. 

You cannot answer and instead choose to stay silent out of necessity, biting down on your skin. Your legs are bent upwards and rest on the edge of the bed; your underwear slowly peeled off and placed somewhere unknown. Your legs are spread and unwillingly, you spill further onto yourself, the urine smelling strong of acid and wetting the bed underneath you. 

You release your wrist from your mouth and speak through gathered saliva. “I’m sorry,” you sob, tears slipping down your cheeks, trying to cross your legs. “I need to pee, Tomura,” you cry, chest stuttering and hands moving to cover your face awkwardly. “Please,” you beg, clenching tightly on yourself to avoid any further leaking. Your lower half grows wet and uncomfortable and you can feel a heavy gaze on your sex. 

"If you do, you'll dirty the bed. I'm angry enough that I won't get you another." His nose touches against your inner thigh, a soft graze of his skin in yours that makes you flinch. "You'll have to sleep in your own piss.” You can feel your clit twitch, a spasm that shudders through your body and makes goosebumps rise and prick on your skin. “It would teach you to learn some manners.” You can feel his fingers crawl upwards towards your legs, thin and nimble fingers that touch and pull quickly against your soft flesh, the warmth of your skin burning under his touch. His nails drag against your skin and leave faint scratches. 

The pressure builds, tightening that coils around your stomach, squeezing taut, unforgiving and warm, much too hot for you to feel comfortable. His finger grazes at your labia and warmth floods out and drips onto his finger. You choke down your sob, covering your eyes and pinching your thighs together only to meet the sides of his head. Heat floods throughout your body. He’s seen you nude before, pawed at your skin like a ravenous man- like a lonely one. He’s kissed at your bare skin until you’ve cried, rough hands that jumped at contact with your sex. He’s seen it up close, pressed his face close until your scent had filled his lungs- “sweet and acidic” as he called it- but he’s never held himself so close to you when you were on the verge of leaking. 

“Such a sweet cunt-” you press the heels of your palms harsh against your mouth, stifling a groan when his tongue pushes forward and slips between your lips- “even when filled with piss.”

Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, the tip of your tongue lapping at the sore, tender spot left by your teeth. Your heart races, pumping loudly in your chest and pulsing deep within your cunt, “You’re being mean.” Your words are muffled and tears sting behind your closed eyelids. “Tomura-” You let out a stifled mewl, clenching your thighs tight around his head. His tongue swirls around your pulsing bud, the throbbing heat intense and feeling like an actual heartbeat as he presses his face close to your sex. 

You feel hot, warmth burning in your entire body, the tight coil held so tightly that you can imagine the seams ripping. You can’t allow yourself the mortification of relieving yourself on his face. You’re sure that he would derive some sort of twisted pleasure from seeing you in such a horrid situation. 

His chapped lips kiss your sex, lips moving open and closed, pulling against your gummy flesh, his tongue peeking in and scooping up the arousal that drips from you. His mouth leaves you cold and empty, your breathing slowing into deeper gasps for air, your hands curling and twisting the bed sheet under. His name is a broken chant on your tongue, body twisting as he pushes himself inside of you. Your walls hugging him tightly, pulling on his shaft and molding to his shape. 

He’s ruthless. Using you only as a living sex doll, fucking you slowly and without care, watching as your eyes grow wide, mouth parting open and your breasts swinging as he moves you on his cock. He fills you well, the pressure on your tummy heavier and you are unable to keep a tight grip on it, a spittle of piss spilling out onto him, drenching your burning skin. He leans over you, his breath fanning across your face and your eyes grow a distant look onto them. 

“Nothing but a fucking slut,” he says through gritted teeth. “You deserve this. Everything that has happened to you is all your fault,” he spits at you. A hand wraps around your throat, pressure against the side of your neck, making your pulse point stutter. “All you had to do was love me. All you had to do was be a good, little girl and instead you spit on me.” His hand tightens and his voice grows into an echo. “You’re lucky I care for you so much.” His canine shines and glowing red eyes are all that you see in a growing pit of darkness and hate. A thick glob of spit meets your cheekbone and you are too out of it to wipe it away. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be alone.” He leaves close to you, red eyes that stare into yours, full of hate and hurt, voice in a low snarl as he speaks. “No one will ever love you like I do.”

Your orgasm washes out in waves, cascading around his cock and keeping him there as you ride your orgasm. It’s unforgiving and harsh, your body shaking and tense, head tilted back and neck exposed, the fabric scratching underneath your nails. His cock pulls out, wet and sliding between the sandwiched folds, leaving you empty and twitching. Your twitching bud feels hot as your urine flows out, an acidic scent filling the air. Your face is flushed, eyes wet with tears and mouth open in a silent scream as you wet yourself. Your legs shake, heavy and sporadic as something wet fills the bed and stains your thighs. Your sex pulses like a heart beat, tears falling down the curve of your face. You are distant from the world, sobbing and closing your legs together, shaking your head repetitively. 

The bed squeaks and you are unknown to it. Dips fall between your body, a heavy heat moving from the curve of your stomach to the valley between your breasts,  a sticky leak trailing against you. A heated tip presses against your lower lip, your tongue sliding out in a curve. Something thick slides down the back of your throat. It’s salty and acidic, your face scrunching up and something thick fills your mouth, the girth of his cock unexpected and your eyes widen, tears catching on your lashes like dew on an early morning. 

A man filled with negative emotions, he takes it out on you. He claims to love, the perverted twist on it nothing more than a questionable attachment. He buries himself in you, cares nothing for you when you gag and choke, a wet sounding cough that vibrates on his swollen cock. He is pressed flush against you, your nose buried in a thick coil of his pubic hair. Your arms move on their own, moving to grip onto his thighs, the sharp “pat’ sound on his package slapping against your chin. Your jaw hurts, minded clouded with your post-orgasm and the humiliation that has begun to settle within you. Your body is tired, pushed beyond any limits that you thought you had. Somewhere deep in your mind, you register that this is your fault. You should have just asked for a coloring book.

Tomura curses obscenities into the room, your name mingled with foul language that makes you wince. He’s rough and terrifying. You should have realized that this wasn’t some lovesick fool; this was a grown man who has grown and festered in a wicked environment and now you must care for him as if he were a lover or suffer this fate again.

Tears slide down your eyes and you sob. You choke against him, your nails dragging against his pale skin and leaving red lines in its wake. He grunts like a mad man, words long gone, the pronunciation and control of tongue something that had slipped away from him when you began to cry. He cries your name, and you can picture the mess that he looks now- pale hair that sticks to his face, a red flushed face and drool that drips from his lips.

Spit stains both you and him and through a mouth full of cock, you call his name. It’s nowhere near filled with grace or with hate, a sore jaw that has grown tired from being pried open and fucked. “Tomura,” you call him in a muffled voice, weak vibrations that tremble from him cockhead to the base where your nose remains buried only to be pulled away.

Thick ropes shoot onto your face, the heaviness of his semen catching on your tongue and you look up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You have a real lewd face on you right now.” His smile is stretched wide, eyes raised in a sick sense of humor. “Pretty fucking hot, if I have to be honest.” His head tilts and in his hand he holds a softening cock. “Do you want to know why I won’t let you go? Why I’m so certain that you’ll never run for help?” His cock is pressed into your mouth; the once hard flesh, soft and lingering with a salty aftertaste. “Because you have such a big mouth that I doubt you’d ever keep it a secret that you let a villain fuck and piss in your mouth.” Your bottom lip lip trembles and the flat of your tongue holds the bottom of his cock, the once prominent vein now soft. 

It’s much worse than you could have ever imagined. It’s worse than his own seed, something so thin and potent all at once. It’s acidic, burning as it goes down your throat in heavy waves. It swells your belly, your cunt throbbing in reaction, your hands clutching at your chest, nails imbedded deep in your fat. It hits harshly against you, a dull push against the back of your throat, dribbling into salty droplets on your tongue. His cock pulls away from you, limping out and dragging against your swollen lips in a tender kiss, drips of acid sparkling against your parted lips.

You lay one the soiled bed- wet, warm and sticky. Your clit still pulses, harsh and heavy, chest rising and falling in heavy heaves. The urine dries quickly, a heavy acidic scent that fills the room and sticks to your skin like an awful perfume. Sticky hands grab yours and you’re pulled upwards into a solid chest. Your knees buckle and your hands scratch at the abdomen. 

“Let’s go clean you up.” A kiss is placed on the crown of your head, a hand sliding down and leaving goosebumps in its wake as it rests on your lower back. “A nice shower will make you feel better.” The taste of him lingers on your tongue, your mouth dry from the abuse.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Falling from grace for you.

(this wasn’t requested, and I should probably be catching up on those XD)

|Dazai x Female Reader|

This is a darker (that’s an understatement…) and longer (very long) piece than what is typically written on my account. It’s taken from one of my current ongoing fics.

Warnings: Dazai’s typical antics (his jokes of suicide, making light of suicide, disturbing thoughts) depictions of severe gore/violence. Mentions of darker themes: torture, implied abuse. Some slight out-of-character actions. A large amount of insanity, questionable thoughts, and in the end suicide. Seriously, I warned you this piece is dark as hell

Heavy angst without a happy ending. (starts getting very dark/disturbing/unsettling under the cut.)

~You have been warned, enjoy the angst love~

Words-5,081

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Hiding behind clouds, scarlet red glared down in shimmering beams. The night was given a red hue, a contrast to the normal silver peeking past the darkness. A male, in his early twenties, fiddled with the edges of his coat. Its tan folds, keeping his body from feeling the frigid atmosphere. His finger lightly traced the white, slightly dirtied fabric of the cotton wrapped around his arms. As unusual as it was, most of the agency had stayed past its usual hours of operation. A feeble sigh remained stuck in the man's throat, a sigh that could tell the others he was troubled. He was a man of many mysteries and unsolvable puzzles. The empty hue of his coffee-stained eyes closed the door to what he felt. That was if this man was capable of truly feeling much at all.

Taking a seat on the couch, his mind trailed to the thoughts of a woman. If he dared to admit the wrongs of his life, maybe the situation they were all in would be… different. Maybe, just maybe, this case would have been solved in seconds. It seemed even Ranpo had met his match here. Of course, the only reason he had met a roadblock, was for the same reason nobody had claimed the pool of money placed on his past occupation. His name was Dazai, Osamu Dazai. Sure, by now, the people around him knew what dangerous job he had in the past. Ranpo had probably finally deduced he was somewhere up in the ranks. He doubted they knew just who he had been, doubted they knew the full extent of the crimes he had committed. If they knew surely Ranpo would have said something or given signs of distrust. If Kunikida knew there would have been insults thrown and judgments made. He’d probably be in jail if they truly knew the details about him.

His eyes self-consciously looked up to the clock, his eyes flicking with the smallest flame of confusion. His fingers ran to his pocket, pulling out a phone that wasn’t used for work. The way he rushed to check for a missed message caught the attention of several co-workers. They were all used to his slacking off, even when he was working, he appeared to be relaxing. For instance, this entire time, from the moments spent staring at the window, to the second leading to his hands gripping his phone, were all moments that involved his mind. A plan carefully piecing together. He happened to be the only one who could solve this case. After all, he knew you. The details of this case, the ones that had no evidence, nothing to deduct anything from. By now, he was sure Ranpo knew that too. The only reason he hadn’t been questioned was the uncertainty of how he was involved.

There had never been a day when you missed sending the nightly text. Now, he always received a text no later than 9 PM and no earlier than 8:45 PM. Every day for 6 years, he received the same question. You would ask him when he’d be home, what he’d like for dinner. No matter what the message was, you never sent a text shorter than 2 words. Never screwed the grammar up, nor did you ever leave a text unfinished. Not only was it 9:05, but the text was also missing. He was almost tempted to call you, feeling a panic settling in his stomach. The two of you had so many unspoken feelings between you. He knew you were not really missing, you had run away just over six months ago, after all, you had wanted freedom from the chains of your prison. That home, which had never truly been home. He restarted the phone over and over again, maybe he didn’t have enough service, maybe he was overthinking things? As much as he wanted to believe you were completely fine, he knew something had truly happened to you.

It was his fault, in the past, he had been such a bastard, there were people all over wishing to find a spot in his inhuman mind that would cause him to bend down like a dog; he hated dogs. If somebody ever found that he and you had more than just a business relationship, there would be hell to pay. Having known each other since his mafioso days, you were always a danger to be caught around with. He still remembered the way you had met, the only woman who had not given in to his womanizer ways. The only person on this planet who understood his mind. Your ability, as long as he didn't touch you, told you everything that his mind was reeling under. The pressure of his deepest regrets, the dying, screaming agony that wrapped his heart. So, it was only natural that in his new world of light, he had come to see you differently. This woman who had impacted his life just as much as his dead friend never ceased to surprise him. The way she stayed silent about her own troubles, the way she revealed only what she could with him. The way she remains smiling, like him, despite sharing the same pains that crushed him. He had asked her once, a few years back, to join him in a double suicide. It had been a joke, but the laughing, smiling expression that you wore as a mask had fallen. Those eyes he came to adore fell to replicate his own expression. So used to the word no, his heart nearly shattered when you chuckled darkly and ran a finger over the sleeves of your shirt. The way it acted like it traced scars broke him. The simple sure that whispered from your lips led him to stand shocked. Few people in this world managed to surprise him, so seeing you turn his thoughts into scrambled letters in a scrabble game had him panicked.

Just as he was about to start panicking over your lack of a text, a simple ding echoed in the silent room. The breaths of every agency member halted, it seemed even Kunikida paused to see what this man was up to. For what felt like the first time in his life, that unsettling pit of despair that laid deep within his gut overtook his consciousness rationally. His fingers expertly unlocked his phone, dragging the notification bar down to click on the text that came from your number. That pit that he had been feeling since he left the apartment today rose to consume his mask. Pure, discernible fear placed itself within his irises. The dilation of his pupils, followed by the sweat that fell from his forehead, gathered a panic within every member. Laying on his screen a simple message that he’d never wanted to see; a simple help. The time was now 9:15, Dazai’s hands shook as he tried to remain calm, keep that personality of his from rising past the new him. There was nothing he wanted more than to slip into the darkness of his alter-ego, the original him.

When things that belong to him, things that he deeply connects to are hurt or taken from him, he can’t help but become a monster to protect such things.

Another text followed as he tried to keep himself together. If you want to see her alive, find us within the hour demon prodigy. To send such a thing from his belladonna’s phone created another crack in his expression. Unfiltered rage poured from his eyes in fiery streams. His hands nearly cracked the delicate glass of his phone. Clicking the phone off, he set it down. Walking to his desk, he slammed open every drawer. Nobody spoke, they only watched this man rummage around his desk. His stoic eyes were now full of dreadful emotions. The aura this man was giving off dragged the somber room into a dark state of horror. It was as if a serial killer had walked into the home of its unsuspecting victims. The only thoughts with their heads were of concern for the coworker, whose laid-back attitude had disappeared in seconds. Was this how he was in the mafia? That question suddenly popped into some of the heads turned towards him. One girl sat next to an older boy. The teenage child tilted her head at the recognition of the room's mood. The mood resembled the still air that she’d experienced in the mafia. When she was nothing but a worthless assassin, she had seen this happen before. Whenever a high-ranking mafioso walked into a room, one known for their bloodlust and demonic ways, such as Akutagawa, the room felt heavy and sticky with fear and worry. While this was different, it had that same tingle.

Dazai pulled out a pistol, why he still had this was a question even he couldn’t answer. It had been the one he used in the mafia. Slamming it on the desk, his hand traveled for other items. Grabbing a container of pins, he set that down along with pens in both black and red ink, a notepad about the size of his palm, a file, and lastly, the girl's photo. He grabbed his phone again, this time walking to a computer and downloading information from it. It was easy to get the location of which the texts were sent. If the GPS was correct, her phone was currently several blocks from the house, after moving within the three minutes, it took him to search the drawers. The text had been sent from inside their apartment. Popping the pen lid off using his teeth, he rushed to a map. His mind had blocked all consciousness of the world around him out. The unadulterated need to find you and save you from harm, or in the worst case, death, controlling him. Never in his life had he felt this way for anybody. No subordinate, no friend, no co-worker, no enemy had ever filled his body with so much emotion at once. A man normally dragged on by only logic, a man who discarded his heart for his mind now laid within the opposite. His emotions controlling his thoughts, his heart pumping within the hundreds as he raced against the clock. Marking every move possible in his head, he scanned over the map once, twice, and even a third time. His lips curled into a nasty snarl as he realized how you had been caught.

On your way back from working that bar, you had been followed into the apartment, heard the noises, and texted him a quick plea. You're meant for it to be longer, but hardly had time to send help. No capitalization, no punctuation, and help had been misspelled. A simple typo only your terrified fingers could manage. Then when they realize your phone is unlocked and laying on the floor after knocking you out, the attacker had sent him the warning. With that scenario, he became completely encased in displeased anger. His eyes scanned the map with frustration, trying to narrow the possible routes down. He used the black pen to mark the important events with times. He marked everything from his leave to the current second. Using the red pen, he sketched a draft of the route being used. The phone had been carried as a distraction. Any person of his mind would instantly disregard that route. But without Ranpo needing to point out which route was most likely, he tapped it with his finger. Crossing out certain marks as he intertwined all three routes to come across the place he’d met you. An amused, almost ironic snicker parted his lips as he tugged his jacket tighter around his body. His hand using the small notepad to jot down the location. Not for himself, but for the others in case they decided to follow him.

Walking to his desk, he grabbed the pistol, its weight nearly disgusting him. A conflict parted through him, his promise to Oda, then your life. Looking towards the ceiling, he sighed. He’d visit his grave later to apologize for breaking his promise. He had all intention to kill, whether it’s called for or not. “Dazai, what is going on.” Kunikida's cold voice cut through the heavy atmosphere.

Snapping back as if only now realizing the other existed, he fell to look at Kunikida. The look he gave was full of nothing but emotionless despair. With a simple response, he walked over and dropped the file on the desk. “Taking care of this case… alone.” The last word was spoken with an emphasis as if to warn them. This case was tied to his past actions.

Making a full 180, he dramatically raised his hands and spoke with nothing but a childish facade. “If I’m not back before midnight, my dreams have come true!” he hummed before walking out of sight.

Now that he was alone, that facade dissipated, and he sighed walking briskly down the streets. It didn’t take him too long to arrive at the building. An abandoned shipping room that provided a perfect height for suicide. He smiled slightly at the thought. Yes, that would be so much more relaxing than this. Simply taking your hand as the two of you fell gracefully in each other's arms. Then with no pain, the two of you would part from this meaningless life and find peace. His hand touched the door, pushing them open, the red glimmers of light, provided by the blood moon, filtering in through the now open doors. He whistled to signal he was there, and as his feet stepped inside, the doors closed and latched behind him. A trap well fit for him, but he already predicted such. “You really did go all out to catch me off-guard. It’s too bad this really isn’t much~.” he purred the words calling out to whoever laid within the shadows of the building. Tracing steps of the two men behind him, he ducked before grabbing two fists of hair and slamming their heads together. “Now, I suggest you give her back.” His voice became cold as he held himself straight, brushing his hands against the tan fabric.

Instead of a vocal response made of words, there was only a light laugh. With a sudden glare that nearly blinded him, the light turned on in only one specific spot. The middle of the room glowed with vibrant white light. Revealed by the sudden change was a body. Slumped against a chair with the smallest rising and falling of the chest. A piece of cloth wrapped around both your eyes and your mouth, successfully gagging and blinding you. Around your waist lay a thick rope that was most likely tied in the back, and was coated in duct tape to keep you secured to the chair. He assumed your wrists were bound behind the chair, judging that they were not loosely hung by your sides. The rope around your ankles was wrapped around several times. Already your body was showing forms of bruises. Blood trickled from your nose and your head. Your clothing was in tatters, the white lace of your bra showing in parts. It was as if your attacker had tried inflicting as much pain as he could. Perhaps you had woken up from the pain before passing out. He could see the wet stains on your cheek, probably from the feeling of pain. He went to take a step forward and pull out his gun, but before he could make much movement, a gun aimed itself at you. His eyes flared, and he looked to the man who had taken you. The time was now 10:05 PM. He had arrived exactly at 10 PM. within the hour the text had said, so logically speaking he had 10 minutes until an hour from when the text was sent to now.

So where had he gone wrong? Why did that gun fire at your stomach? It missed anything vital, in fact, it was a spot he knew well. Fyodor had once had a sniper shoot him in that exact spot. He knew it wasn’t lethal, but the blood loss could kill you. That death would be slow and painful. It was pure luck that you had been shot there, that gun was meant to put you to death.

Never in his life had he lost to his emotions. Even in his moments of insanity, he had never acted rashly. Even when he shot a dead body over and over, he had not been completely lost. He had relished in the enemy’s pain, but he was not lost. He understood his surroundings. Even as his lips parted and cusses left his lips and insane demonic laughter parted his lips, he tried keeping his mind together. His left hand covered his eye, the eye he had once kept bandaged for no particular reason. His right hand fumbled for his gun, before snapping his eyes back to the enemy. “You really shouldn’t have done that~” he hummed taking steps closer. “Were you expecting me to fall and weep? If this is revenge over something I did in the past, I hate to tell you… I don't remember a single one of my past victims. I mean that would be a ton of people to remember. Between the murders and the blackmail along with all the other crimes I’ve committed, I would never remember anybody who held no importance.”

With the room's descent into a hellish atmosphere, your attacker tripped falling down. Dazai walked to you and brushed a finger over your cheek. “It’s alright, I’ll save you.” Maybe this possessive protectiveness this event had induced could be classified as slightly yandere? He would never lose you, your happiness was of course important, but this feeling was beyond normal rage. He walked up to the cowering form of your attacker. He guaranteed the man's death would be painful. He normally wasn’t this violent, even in the mafia he carried out his assignments and assassinations quickly. He hated pain himself, so it was natural to show some pity when it came to physical pain.

All that went forgotten as he approached the shaking male. He fiddled with the trigger of his pistol, before shooting both of your attacker's hands. Watching as crimson carefully spill and the shriek of horror, that twisted Dazai’s heart with pleasure, echo within the walls, he smiled. The smile was created from pure insanity. Without a shred of remorse, he glanced at you before his foot lifted to slam against the male's jaw. He did it once, twice, and thrice. When his foot shoved the man's skull down to the cement flooring, he laughed trying to keep control. His emotions were slowly wrapping dark webs around his reason. He knew that was enough, that he should stop and lay down a final blow. He knew he should do the right thing, which would be to slam some cuffs on this man's wrists. Yet, in the back of his head lay a voice telling him this man deserved a punishment far worse than a jail cell he’d likely be out of in a few years. This man deserved death for hurting you. There was only one light in his life, that light was you. Losing that light would break him. There was one fear for this man, that fear was losing all hope. Plummeting into true pain, a life without you would be empty. It would be too much to go on. He’d toss away his ideal death to escape the chains of this mortal world. He’d accept death, whether there was an after-life or not. As the thoughts ran rampant inside his head, his decision was made. No, this decision had been made the moment his slender fingers touched the metal of this discarded pistol.

Kneeling down, he got into the man's personal space, his hands clasped behind his back as if this were one of his many interrogations. “Tell me, when you laid the first blow on my belladonna, what were you expecting would happen? Was it A, you thought you would manage to bring me to my knees? Or maybe B, you thought your actions would have no consequences because the feared demon prodigy was now an ex-demon prodigy? You thought you would be able to act out revenge by taking the one thing he clings to. People are easy to read, when they are terrified for their lives their life story is portrayed through their eyes. I wonder, would you beg for mercy if I gauged them out?” the sadistic curl of his lips leading to the crack of his fingers echoed in the room. The only other sound to challenge such a disturbing noise lay the whimpers and shaking chatter of the enemy. “If you want forgiveness, then beg for it.” Dazai's lips quickly fell to a snarl as his finger ran from the man's cheek up to the base of his eye socket. Already pushing with pressure, he waited. Just before his finger could start any damage, the man's words leaped.

“I’m sorry, spare me!” he would shout more and more pleading for his life. Dazai merely laughed, running his other hand over the man's lip before dragging it down over the man's neck, imagining the sight if he were to take a pin and drag it along the skin.

“Did she plead for you to stop? How many times did she beg you not to hurt her? Did you do more than simply hit her?” he knew the answer to that already, which is why even if this man pleaded and begged and swore his life to Dazai, he’d never make it out alive. “If you're honest, I may… be gentle.” A lie, a believable cunning lie all for you. He was doing this for you, all to take revenge for you.

“No!” the man screamed for only a moment before Dazai dug his finger into the socket, letting blood soak the tan of his coat. Flinging his hand to the side, the excess blood splattered.

“Too bad, I knew you'd lie to me anyways. Humans are truly despicable creatures, aren't we? Was it fun? Listening to her beg for you to stop? Did she ask you to just kill her already? Did you keep her conscious just to traumatize her? Tell me, did you think I'd let you go?” lifting his foot, he slammed it against the man's chin, sending him into the wall. Watching the stone crack and small pebbles fall, he walked over with nothing in his eyes.

His thoughts were blank.

His expression is blank.

His mind blank.

His heart… full of anger and merciless vengeance.

His hands, despite lacking the same strength as some of his opponents in the past, snapped bone after bone. He tore through the skin until the floor was coated in blood. The game continued until the man bled to death. When Dazai noted there was nothing left, he stared and watched in satisfaction. That was until a groan made its way into his ears. Slowly, he turned around to look at you. Your head had shifted slightly, but small drops of crimson were now dripping down from your abdomen. Pulling the bloodied knife from the corpse, he rushed over to cut you free. Letting your body collapse into his he hummed. His mind was still gripped in insanity. He slid down to the ground, running his blood-stained hands through your hair. “I came for you.” A half-hearted smile lifted his lips, but your voice did not respond. Your eyes still remained closed as he laid you on a clean spot of cement. He lifted the tatters of your shirt just enough to view the wound.

With a hesitant movement, he grabbed your wrist. The pulse was seeming to slow down. “Fuck…” he cursed the word under his breath as he came back to his senses. As if coming from a trance, his eyes scanned around. A single drop of water left his eyes before more came crashing down. He grabbed your body and pulled it towards him. Cradling you as he whispered an apology.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed, but in reality, the time was 10:35. Hardly half an hour had passed since he arrived. You would last another twenty minutes before that tiny wound became a problem, and you died. He knew this fact, and so he searched his pockets for his phone. He’d disappear before anybody got there. He’d sound as if he were running. He’d stage something to hide what he had just done. Everything he’d worked for could be unraveled soon. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, hoping you'd wake up, so he could tell you what he wanted to say. Even as he gripped the phone and dialed his co-workers, all he wanted was to look into your eyes. The eyes that reflected himself. Before he could hit the dial button and start the call, those metal doors which had been sealed shut opened. Light filtered in from the moon and flashlights. The click of guns pointed at the two of you.

Dazai glanced to the side before hiding you behind him, still protective over you. Until he heard the sound of a familiar blonde's voice, he would not let you be exposed to danger. “Stand down, he’s… one of ours.” Kunikida yelled, before storming in with the other members behind him. They had all seen him rush out, the state he was in… it was only recommended by Ranpo they call in some officers just to surround the building. “Dazai...” Why was it so hard for the blonde to speak? Had he truly believed there was a shed of moral sense within his work partner? “Hands above your head… step away from the girl.'' It was a plea more than an order.

Hesitation wasn’t something he normally dealt with. Dazai looked back to you before realizing the smallest movement of your fingers. Immediately he grabbed your hand. A warning shot echoed missing his head by mere centimeters. It wasn’t like he cared though, a bullet could kill him right away. There would be no pain, so what if it wasn’t suicide. At this point, he was fed up with living in a world like this. He was tired of not having a purpose. The only purpose he had was to protect you. He’d managed to fail that too. So without any emotion, he waved dismissively. “If you shoot me, you know I won’t care right?” There was silence as a gurgled noise escaped your lips.

It was relatively fast, your eyes shooting open as your hands reached to grab your abdomen. Nearly screaming out in pain until your eyes adjusted and noticed Dazai. Relief flooded into you as your body weakly reached for him. He let out a relieved choked noise, similar in sound to a sob. He cupped your cheek with that feeling in his chest before another warning shot fired. This time missing him by even less and cutting it close to your hands. Terrified your body reeled back.

Dazai put your safety first before comfort. So despite wanting to kiss you and finally express the feeling he knew you were aware of, he stood up and raised his hands above his head. Walking towards the lights, he kneeled and hung his head. He was rather surprised with how gentle he was pushed to the floor. The feeling of metal clasping his wrists wasn’t new. He’d been caught many times before this. Of course, he always escaped, returning to you. If he tried that now, he knew he risked your safety. Yet your shrieks passed the air as you were grabbed by two officers. Watching from the sidelines with solemn looks stood the rest of his co-workers. Atsushi, a young male orphan, Dazai, had been saved from starvation and death, couldn't understand what was going on. “Why… Dazai, why?” he whispered far too soft to be heard.

As Dazai was pulled to his feet and led away, you were left to scream and ignore the pain of blood gathering in your throat. No matter how much splattered from your lips you screamed for him. You struggled weakly against the arms of the officers. The blonde who had cuffed Dazai walked to you. Kneeling to your level, your eyes moved to read him. Using your ability to see his emotions, personality, and troubles. He was a good man, one who had strong morals. Only at that did you react and calm down. Letting a woman who shared his presence and whose aura you trusted heal you. “This is… my fault,” you whispered, finally feeling warmth fall down the soft skin of your cheeks. As a brunette looked over the crime scene with anger and disgust, he deducted everything within minutes. It was done by Dazai, and there were things he didn’t understand, but he knew enough to locate why this had happened.

“Please… don’t lock him away! If I had been stronger... if I had listened to Dazai’s advice none of this would have happened!” Despite being the victim of all of this, you couldn’t help but blame it all on yourself. “We still haven't gotten to try out the method I found.” gripping the sides of your arms, you looked up with the same expression Dazai often wore. The startled expression of his co-workers was expected. “We may have succeeded this time.” You whispered the words softly in your head, before passing out from exhaustion once more.

Dazai never ended up in prison, he’d slipped away the moment he could. All of this had been in your line of expectations. Walking into the apartment to see Dazai reading the suicide book had you running over to express your love in the form of asking him the question he always asked you. “Shall we commit a perfect, flawless double suicide?” you asked before seeing an excited glimmer in his eyes. Taking your hands in his, he nodded.

On that fateful night, two months after your abduction, two bodies were found. Cuddled close together under the sheets. Their bodies cold and pressed closed. A swift easy death within slumber.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) 
 Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected   that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.  

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.  

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

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Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.  

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.  

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly.  “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch.  He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.  

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.  

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I  wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to  our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before.  I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.  

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.  

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.  

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.  

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.  

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't.  Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”  

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

 —————————————————

| Part 18 |

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Fated Part 2

Ares x reader

Word Count: 1230

Summary: Ares is hurt, and you are pissed.

When you arrived, Hera was nowhere to be found, but Thanatos was already waiting outside the bedroom door.

“You’re not taking him, little brother,” you warned icily.

He looked sad as he replied, “That has yet to be decided. You and I can quarrel about secrets later. You being with him will strengthen his spirit. Go.”

You kept your eyes trained on him as you walked past to enter the bedroom, but he didn’t so much as twitch from his post. The sight inside the spacious bedroom, however, was one that you knew instantly would haunt you until the end of time.

Hera stood next to the bed, a piece normally piled with comfortable red and golden throws that was now covered only in the stark white sheets that served to highlight how Ares’ normally beautifully dark complexion was a sickly grey color.

Apollo, the god of healing, was speaking to her softly not noticing your entrance. “There isn’t anything more I can do for him,” he was saying. “Now, we just have to give him time to see if he pulls through. Though with Thanatos lingering outside the way he is . . .” His tone made it abundantly clear what he thought of Than.

“Do not speak of my brother in such a way,” you ordered. “If there’s nothing more for you to do, then leave.” You’d already had a low opinion of this Olympian based on what Ares let slip about the event that drove him to Thrace in the first place; this commentary certainly wasn’t helping endear him to you.

His golden eyes--so disturbingly similar to your family’s trademark color yet so violently different in the type of glow--snapped over to you, shining brightly with his anger. “And who are--”

“She’s right,” Hera interrupted, clearly wanting to calm the brewing fight. “Ares would not want us here longer than necessary. He will be well cared for in her hands.”

“And who exactly is she?”

“The wife of Lord Zeus’s only legitimate heir,” was her lofty reply. Normally, you’d hate to hear the scorn in Hera’s voice as she talked down on Zeus’ other children, but right now you just wanted them out.

Clearly flabbergasted, Apollo finally stormed out without a word.

“Watch over him,” was Hera’s command before she, too, left.

Which left you alone and finally able to get a good look at the prone form on the bed.

As you’d noticed before, his skin had taken on a grey edge to it. Even the war paint-like streak around his eyes--already bone white normally--looked somehow paler. His armor was missing, presumably to dress his wounds, and you didn’t care enough presently to locate it. In fact, all of his usual clothing was missing; the only thing covering him from the waist down was that white sheet. You assumed that meant he had no injuries where he was covered since it would have just gotten in the way of healing him.

The thing that drew your attention after that initial scan was the line of burn-like marks diagonally across his chest, each in the shape of a link in a chain, all an angry red that almost matched the color of his eyes. An alarmingly human color on a god of Olympus. Still, the wounds at least didn’t seem to be open or infected. Apollo’s work, no doubt.

His breath was shallow as you gently brushed his light colored hair out of his face. “What happened to you, my love?”

“According to Hermes, giants. They caught him and bound him in an urn for the last thirteen months.” At some point, Thanatos had apparently entered.

Your hand delicately traced the shape of your husband’s face. You said nothing.

“The Olympians are frightened. They now know exactly what it will take to kill a god.”

“Will this?” Your voice was so painfully close to cracking you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment upon hearing it. “Kill him, that is?” Tears threatened to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them back; crying could wait until you were alone.

A gentle, cool hand rested on your shoulder. “Even I don’t know what our sisters have planned.” Thanatos hesitated. “I should have noticed. He and I see each other frequently, and still I failed him in a way he would never have failed me.”

“I am his wife, Than, and I didn’t notice. Your crime is no greater than my own.”

“Then perhaps it is no one’s fault,” he mused. “If you have not already thought of it, I’d recommend sticking to nectar to nourish him since ambrosia may prove too much for his current state.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sister. I must take my leave; I have mortals to collect. I . . . pray I won’t need to return.” There was another pause. “And congratulations on your marriage. For what it’s worth, I’m happy to hear that Fate worked itself out in that regard.” A bell tolled behind you immediately after that, signaling his departure. 

“Thank you,” you repeated in the silence that followed.

And so began your vigil.

Your first action once you were able to will yourself away from his side even for a moment was to drag one of the room’s couches over to the bedside so you wouldn’t be horribly uncomfortable. Then you went hunting for his most prized belongings: his armor and swords. Fortunately, they were right where they were supposed to be--in the armory. Likely, they transported themselves back home while he was trapped judging from the dried giant blood caked on them and the fact that his family would never have such care for his things.

You gathered them in your arms, unflinching in the face of the seething rage the pieces emitted. “I know,” you murmured as you gathered the tools you’d need to clean and sharpen them. They calmed somewhat upon recognizing your presence. “I’m going to take care of you,” you continued. “Revenge will be yours soon enough.”

His breastplate, the most sentient piece, would need to be cleaned first. It would have to go to Hephaestus soon to replace the various torn clasps--you absolutely did not let your mind linger on how they got that way--but for now you could rid it of the blood and mud. Cleaning each piece to its original beauty, to Ares’ standards was a task reminiscent of particularly vengeful gods, but you were glad for the work. It kept your hands busy in the breaks between carefully dripping nectar into your husband’s mouth, made the days pass by faster it seemed. Your mouth never stopped moving as your regaled both Ares and the items of every passing thought that crossed your mind as you worked.

After that came the swords he normally kept strapped to his back. Still you talked. As you cleaned. As you sharpened. As you gazed longingly at his slack face. Thankfully this time passed without visits from either the Olympians or Thanatos. Your brother’s absence specifically, you took as a good sign.

Your voice was beginning to go rough from use by the time you started tending to his main weapon, the sword with the vicious curve and an edge stained red with the blood of those that’d fallen to it.

Your grip tightened on the hilt when an equally rough voice said, “When is the last time you slept, my love?”

[ethanesimp]

THE OAK TREE // TWO E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x GN! Reader

Summary: Everyone at the Oakes Academy is aware of the rivalry that exists between two of the school’s best students, Ethan Torchio and Y/N L/N. What nobody knows is what a brilliant team they are when they’re at risk of their reputations being damaged and a killer’s on the loose.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of blood, mentions of death and descriptions of it, mention of suicide (pls read with caution, ily <3).

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay, life has been a lil bit crazy this past week. I also wanted to apologize for any possible typos because I’m working on a project but decided to take a break to finish this for you guys! I promise I’ll proofread this as soon as I get some time. Also, in the part where they’re texting, I recommend you check the texts on the Google Drive for context. Otherwise you might get a bit lost.

DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT TE AVAILABLE MATERIAL IN THE GOOGLE DRIVE WHICH YOU CAN FIND ON THE SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist (strike means it won’t let me tag you):  @oro-e-diamanti @gretavanfleetlove @victoriadeangeliswifey @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @superchrystaldrug @petit-poussin @bidet-and-legolas @fallingforyou123 @ethaneskin @soft-boy-ethan @teenyweenynightghost @reputationdamiano @cantaraiilmionome @tabi-toast @queen-of-brokenhearts @geklutst-ei @juststalking @cruz-ata @ohtorchio @ethan-torchio-angelo @unitermoonshine @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @marriedwithmarktuan @its-afucking-mess @juststalking @goldenpeaxh​

LAST CHAPTER’S WINNING DECISION: They believe it is all real and go search for the body the finger might belong to. (The impact of this decision will be reflected next chapter).

Let the games begin. 

You had to read the last part once more, so consumed by the shock that barely any words had registered into your brain. Your hands were shaking as you held it closer to yourself. Maybe it was all part of the disbelief because you found yourself scanning the words over and over again until you had the first paragraph memorized. 

But then… then Ethan started laughing. 

Short, breathy laughs escaped past his lips, immediately followed by sharp inhales, as if he were desperate to get more air to reach his lungs. You brushed it off and went right back to reading the last few phrases that were on the very back, even said them under your breath to try and make them become real because everything seemed like nothing but a dream, no, a nightmare.

Then it slowly dawned on you after you finished reading the letter. All worry subsided and you had no doubt in your mind you would’ve started laughing too if you weren’t seeing red. Consumed by the sudden rage, you turned to Ethan and didn’t hesitate to tackle him into the ground.

In any normal instance, you wouldn’t have been able to do it, but you’d caught him off-guard, which was confirmed by the surprised yelp he let out as his back collided with the muddy floor and dry leaves crunched underneath his weight. You moved to straddle him the second you felt him shift beneath you, as if he wanted to get up. 

You looked at him for a split second. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the red light. His distress was apparent. He was thrashing around to try and get you off him when you started hitting his chest over and over again. Your hits weren’t hard nor were they intended to cause any damage to him. In fact, he could have easily pushed you off him effortlessly if he wanted to, but Ethan didn’t even try. Instead, he let you continue hitting his chest.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? You’re… a… fucking… psycho!” Each word was accompanied by another frustrated hit to his chest as tears slowly fell down your face and sobs rattled your body, “You were the only one who knew that. The only person in this goddamn school I ever—ever was stupid enough to tell it to. And you use it for one of your sick and twisted pranks? Fuck you. Fuck you!” 

Your head fell and rested on his chest as you kept on crying. However, your words seemed to pull him back to reality. Only after a few seconds of you speaking, Ethan had already rolled the two of you around until he was on top of you. 

You firmly held his stare as you tried to get him off you. For some strange reason, it sent shivers down your spine to see his eyes so full of fear. Ethan was always centered and glued firmly to the Earth. No matter the issue, he was always capable of keeping his cool, but now was far from being the case. His voice trembled as he tried to speak up, “Shut up Y/N! You’ve got no right to blame me for something that is clearly your doing. I have no fucking clue what your stupid letter said but mine said something that has me convinced it was you!”

His accusation was followed by him shoving his crumpled up letter into your face. You had to squint in order to see it better with only the aid of the red light. When you read the words placed at the very bottom, your eyes went wide and immediately looked for his in a desperate attempt to convince him it wasn’t you, but he had his head turned away. You firmly grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie so he’d look into your eyes, “I-I didn’t. Ethan I don’t like you one bit but I’d never. Not this.”

Ethan scoffed and shook his head. He got off you and turned around so his back was facing you, “You know what? I don’t give a shit what you did or didn’t do. I’m going to wash this disgusting stuff off me and report this in the morning.”

“What the hell? Are you crazy? Ethan, we're in the middle of a crime scene. We cannot leave it like this. I mean, look at you! You’re covered in blood because, let me refresh your mind, you fell into a fucking puddle of blood and found a finger!” You flailed your arms around furiously at his stupidity and started followed him the moment he started walking away, “What if this is real?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at you, “What is real? A threat that looks like it was written by a thirteen-year-old who just finished reading The Analyst? And the blood… it belongs to an animal for all I care,” He didn’t seem an ounce convinced by the way he took a second to come up with an excuse, and he couldn’t even look you in the eyes, “Besides, what do you want us to say, huh? Oh yeah, sorry. We’re out past curfew because of reasons we can’t tell you and we casually found a disembodied finger lying in a pool of blood. Ah! And I almost forgot the most important detail. We’re being threatened with things that are not only good enough to get us expelled but also get us thrown in jail. But everything is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, do whatever the hell you please.”

Ethan nodded nonchalantly and walked away from you. A long and deep sigh escaped your lips at his stubbornness. You wanted to scream out in frustration at how stupid he was being, but decided it was pointless to stay behind, just in case someone arrived and found you standing there, with your clothes filled with blood. 

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

When you arrived back at the dorms, the first thing you did was take a hot shower as you tried to assimilate everything that had happened. Despite the water being so hot it almost burnt your skin, you still spent the whole time shivering and hugging your arms to your body. 

You had washed the blood off the hoodie in one of the sinks and still threw it in the washing machine afterwards. You didn’t know what was going on and part of you was convinced you didn’t want to know. Either way, you weren’t going to risk being roped into a crime investigation as a suspect.

Afterwards, you collapsed into bed. Your whole body was aching and, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone had exploded with notifications after you connected it, you would’ve fallen asleep. You lazily felt around the small bedside table for your phone and picked it up. Most notifications were just memes Will kept sending to the group chat you had. However, you’d also received a message from Ethan.

Upon reading the first few words, you already felt the urge to throw the phone out the window. He was being annoying, not like that was a new thing at all. You responded to the text nonetheless and left the phone back on the bedside table. You turned around in your bed to try and find a spot that was comfortable and cuddled deeper into the sheets. Then, just when you were about to close your eyes, the phone vibrated again. You groaned and picked it up once more. After reading those texts, you were unable to sleep all night.

——— 

You spent the great majority of the night crying and shivering despite being covered by layers and layers of warm blankets. Those few hours before your alarm sounded extended into what seemed like an eternity and you didn’t want to leave the room, afraid you’d find something like what you’d just seen at the oak tree. 

You only managed to sleep for about half an hour before your alarm went off at exactly six AM. Any other day, you would’ve snuggled back into bed for a little longer, but on that particular day, you’d jumped out of bed and hadn’t wasted a second before getting ready. You’d run out of the building to meet your friends at the dining hall, where you were currently at.

Damiano, Rory, Vic, and Will were already sitting at your usual table in front of the large window when you arrived. The curly-haired boy was practicing for a presentation while your three friends listened and made a few comments here and there on things they thought he should change. 

“Good morning everyone,” You murmured, then took a seat in between Damiano and Will, who turned to look at you and frowned, “Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” You nodded and put on the best smile you could manage. Then you stole one of the berries from his plate even though you weren’t hungry at all. 

You turned to look at Rory and Damiano, “Hey Ro, has the new phone you ordered arrived yet?” You questioned. After your conversation with Ethan the previous night, you needed to make sure it wasn’t them who had sent the text. Just the thought alone made you shudder in disgust and fear, but you just took a deep breath in and kept a soft smile on your face as your best friend shook their head.

“Funny that you ask that because yesterday I got an email from the store saying the delivery was going to take longer than expected because of the weather issues, so I gotta survive with this piece of crap for a few more days,” They sighed and placed the cracked phone on the table. You wanted to stop holding back the tears right then and there. Rory’s words were the confirmation that someone else had sent the text and you doubted it was Emilia. As much as you didn’t want to, with each passing second you started to believe the threat was true and that someone had died or was terribly hurt somewhere, and you needed to find them before it was too late to save them. 

Then you remembered another one of Ethan’s texts and had to resist the urge to get up and go search for him because you needed to talk to him as soon as possible. Instead, you distracted yourself by listening to Will’s presentation practice.

You were close to nodding off at some point as he kept on speaking, “Back in earlier civilizations, it was believed that any type of illness was caused by demons and—Hey, Y/N!” You hummed softly as Will called your name. He poked you on the rib and you swatted his hand away, “Are you sure you’re alright? You look terrible.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled sarcastically, “I’m doing fine. I just stayed up working on a project and barely got a wink of sleep,” You let your head rest on Damiano’s shoulder and yawned.

“I wish I were that productive,” Victoria said as she played around with her food. Everyone had insisted on her eating at least a few bites even if she was still sick, “I never do shit.”

Thomas piped into the conversation, catching everyone by surprise as he took a seat next to Victoria, “To be fair, Y/N always complains about feeling half-dead from lack of sleep. I’ll never be crazy enough to sacrifice my sleep for a stupid assignment.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re one project away from failing Year 12,” Victoria laughed and Thomas rolled his eyes, “The other day I put him in charge of finishing this essay thing for philosophy and by the time I went back to check on him, he was already asleep. I honestly still wonder how we’re at this school. I would’ve thrown us out a long time ago.”

“Look who’s decided to join us today!” Damiano exclaimed with a large smile on his face as Emilia and Ethan took a seat right in front of you. It was an unusual occurrence for him to eat with you because, well, you were there and he couldn’t shut his mouth for half an hour while you ate, which usually ended in an argument that made the whole table annoyed. 

You frowned at his appearance. He was struggling to keep his dark eyes open and his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. It was very apparent that he hadn’t slept much either from the bags under his eyes and his slow steps. Ethan was almost like a zombie. 

He shook his head the moment his eyes met yours and your shoulders slumped. It hadn’t been Emilia either. You got up from your seat abruptly and walked away from the table without an explanation. You desperately needed a breath of fresh air before you went insane. So with quick steps, you moved down the hall until you reached one of the open windows next to a couch. You let yourself fall onto the couch and tightly shut your eyes as you breathed the fresh air in.

“You seriously need to calm down. Otherwise everyone will start to notice just how suspicious you’re acting,” You sighed at the sound of Ethan’s irritating voice and up straight on the couch. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands and looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

“You cannot ask me to calm down after what we saw last night. When will it get into your thick skull that whatever this shit is, it’s real. Those threats were real and if we don’t do something we’re both going to end up in jail, or worse, people are going to die. We don’t know who this psycho is nor what they’re capable of doing. We need to do something now before it’s too late,” The words rushed out of your mouth desperately. The urgency in your tone and your voice quivering as you spoke made his face fall. It wasn’t often that he took you seriously, but by the look in his eyes, you could tell he was just as scared as you were and that was enough to make him shut up and listen to all you had to say.

“Shit Y/N, can you lower your voice? We have no clue at all who could ev—” Before he could even finish the whole sentence, the Head Professor cleared her throat. But your heads snapped in her direction and you gulped in fear at the thought of her overhearing the conversation.

Your heart fell to your stomach the moment she spoke, “Just the two I was looking for. I need you in my office right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you turned to look at Ethan, who already had his head turned in your direction. He nudged his head in the professor’s direction and you both followed her as she walked to her office but stayed a few steps behind.

“This is it, we’re going to jail,” You mumbled loud enough so only Ethan could hear. He hushed you and pulled you along when you stopped walking. People were looking at you as you passed by and that only made you feel worse. You loosened the tie around your neck and gulped.

“We are not going to jail unless you don’t pull it together. Now breathe and keep on walking. I’m not your fucking babysitter,” He whisper-yelled and quickened his pace. You sighed and did the same thing. It surely couldn’t be that bad, could it? You were probably just overreacting and the events of the night before had nothing to do with this impromptu meeting. 

You kept those thoughts in mind as the professor opened the door to the small office and you took a seat on one of the two squeaky chairs. The room smelled clean in a comforting way and you let your shoulders relax as you played with your fingers nervously and looked around the place. 

Her office had always been your favorite out of all the professors’. The place was always warm and during the mornings, you could hear coffee brewing in her old coffee machine in the corner of the room. There were books scattered everywhere and piled in a way that didn’t look messy but inviting. During your first weeks at the academy, when you still hadn’t made any friends, you’d go into her office and read while you sat curled up on the couch and enjoyed the warm and calm atmosphere of the place.

Things used to be so much easier back then and you had no clue how things could’ve changed so fast. Back then your relationship with Ethan was decent and you had no trouble with anyone or anything, now you were being threatened into being framed for murder and being sent to jail.

“You totally forgot about our meeting today, didn’t you?” She asked calmly as she poured coffee into one of her cups, filling the room with the delicious and strong scent. The professor pushed her long dark hair out of her face and straightened out her uniform before sitting down opposite to you, “You looked quite shocked. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

Ethan sat there, speechless, just like you. But then realization hit you and you realized you were just being paranoid and stupid. She’d told you about this meeting weeks in advance. It was supposed to have something to do with your chance to get the sought-after 100% scholarship to study your career at The Oakes. 

“Nothing important whatsoever,” You replied quickly and sat up straight as you placed both hands on your lap. Ethan copied your actions and tied up his long hair with the black elastic that had been on his wrist.

Your eyes followed the professor as she dumped a small spoonful of sugar and mixed it around with the dark liquid. You couldn’t help but notice her hand shaking as she poured the milk and even spilled a bit of it down the side of the cup. 

She cursed under her breath and apologized as she got up to search for a napkin. With furrowed eyebrows, you shared a look with Ethan, who shrugged. 

“I apologize. I’m afraid I’m quite distracted today, but let’s continue. Shall we?” She smiled sweetly and opened up one of the folders on her desk as she sat back down. She grabbed two papers from inside and placed one in front of each of you. 

You picked it up and examined its content. It seemed to be some sort of permission slip, “So, as I’m sure you both know, our academy offers a program for all our brightest students that gives them the opportunity to continue their college studies with everything paid. You two are the people with the highest grades amongst the whole generation. The semester is—.”

Her words were interrupted by a few quick knocks on the door before a professor pushed it wide open. He couldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands and playing around with his tie as he spoke, “The council wants to have a meeting, professor.”

“I cannot do it right now, I’m—”

“They want to have it now.” 

The professor turned to the two of you nervously and laughed awkwardly. She stood up from the chair after quickly pushing it back, “I’ll see you another day, okay? Meanwhile, please send a scan of that permission slip to your parents and have them sign it, as soon as possible.” 

Once both professors were out of sight and had closed the door, leaving the two of you alone, Ethan spoke, “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit. Neither one could stop shaking. I say we go and try to listen to what the council members are saying,” You suggested and stood up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down.

“We need to go back to the oak tree first. Y/N, if this is all real and there’s something going on, we need to find that body before they do,” He said firmly. Both his tone and stare were serious and you could tell that there was no way in hell he’d take no for an answer. Instead of arguing, you agreed and walked out of the office right behind him, but then you paused as his words registered into your brain, “Why do we have to find it before them?”

He didn’t stop walking to respond, so with a groan you started to walk faster until you were right next to him, “You weren’t even attending the school when it happened,” Ethan began to talk under his breath, so quietly you could barely make out the words he was trying to say, “It was years ago so I cannot remember exactly how the story went. You can ask Thomas though, he has better memory than I do,”

“Either way, there was this boy who’d just gotten into college and during the secret society’s initiation, he was told to climb the highest tower at that campus but he slipped and fell like ten stories. Like I said, it was a secret society that neither the public nor the parents knew about. If the story of what had really happened got out it’d ruin the school and some of the most important students would’ve been sent to jail, so they twisted it to look like a suicide and got away with it. The only reason we know about it is because one of Will’s cousins, the duke, was involved in it all and Will told us all about it.”

“I refuse to believe that’s true. C’mon, it’s Will,” You laughed, “The same guy who convinced everyone in class that your family secretly ran part of the Italian mafia.”

Ethan only shrugged and stopped walking to knock on the door of the greenhouse. You’d left yours at your dorm that morning from how distracted you were, so you had to wait for Mr. Murphy to open up and let you through.

When he finally opened the door, his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked at the two of you in confusion, “What in God’s name has happened to get you two in the same place without fighting?” He mocked. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as a smile appeared on your face.

“I assure you, we can both be perfectly civil. Besides, it’s for a homework we need to do. And believe me it’s the last thing I want to be doing,” You lied and walked into the greenhouse with Ethan following behind, “Anyways, we’re gonna go to the lake to get some water and—”

“I’m afraid you cannot go out there,” He interrupted. You frowned at his words and tilted your head to the side.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing you should care about, kids. Just go to class, yeah? There’s someone coming and if you want to stay out of trouble you better leave before they arrive.”

YOU CAN VOTE ON THIS CHAPTER’S POLL RIGHT HERE. THIS POLL CLOSES AT 12:30 PM CDT ON TUESDAY.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Race You There (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Gender neutral. Also I kinda wrote some stuff that sounds like Doctor Who sorry but yall got the same abilities. I could have made this longer but I don’t actually know how to write?

Requested by: anon Could you possibly write a Steve Rogers x Male Reader, who has the power to move through time and space, and also has decelerated aging? Maybe Steve could realise the reader seems familiar and the reader reveals that he saw Steve back in the 40s because of his power, and then lots of fluff and cute romance?

Word count: 1268

You traveled a lot. You'd seen so much in the future and the past. You learned to blend in and hide, how to take the attention away from being the center of attention. It was hard to stay in one place for too long because there was just so much to explore, and making long-term friends was difficult when they noticed you weren't ageing and knowing that you would see their death without ever having to jump in time.

You were currently in 1940's Brooklyn. It was just before they would have to fight in the Second World War. You liked New York. People ignored you in New York, so it was easier to get around. A lot of alleys meant finding secret places that would eventually become something else just as secret in the future. The mystery left you wanting more.

As you slipped into an alley to grab some clothes off of a clothesline, you heard loud footsteps running somewhat in your direction. You barely managed your way through the alley in the night.

"I don't like bullies," said the first voice. "Especially ones who do it through organised crime."

The response was laughter, probably because the first person sounded like a hero complex personified, and sounds of a fist fight got you moving without grabbing any clothing.

"Hey!" you called.

The three men turned to look at you, the smaller and shorter one still in a defensive position as he watched at the other two warily. You tried to adopt a typical 40's New York accent.

"Get outta here. Or I'll call Costello on ya."

The two men looked very afraid, but one looked a bit doubtful.

"I'm his right hand man. You want me to let him know that you're just picking on some kid instead of doing your job? Go on."

They ran off, and the smaller man looked at you with curiosity.

"Costello? Like Frank Costello, crime boss? You know him," he said, though the last question was more like a statement.

"Of course not," you scoffed, slipping back into your usual accent. "I was bluffing. Hoped it would get them away. You know, I don't really like bullies either."

He laughed and held out his hand. Something about his face was familiar. You took it and he gripped with the strength of anyone else, despite his small size.

"Steve. I'm supposed to leave with my friend, but I might have gotten into some trouble a bit earlier than I meant to," he sheepishly admitted.

"Well, don't let me hold you back. You're lucky you got out of that. Don't expect my help again," you lightly teased.

You shook his hand once and let go, walking away and ignoring his questions as you left him behind. You've interfered enough with the poor boy's situation, and you had a feeling that Costello wouldn't be too happy once word got around that someone claimed to be his right hand man.

———

You'd gone further back in time. Your existence was kind of a paradox already, but you were fixing timelines just by being there at the same time. A quick visit to Galileo explaining how to adjust his telescope allowed him to see what the rest of the world never had before. You told him to take the credit, as history marked him to have done. You took a visit to Venice, considering you were already there, taking in the sights before you had to leave again.

You took your time going to different places on Earth and even other planets, but you always came back because it just happened to be your home. Sometimes you could control your power. Other times the universe chose for you.

You were pulled ahead into New York, but this time in 2012. You narrowly missed an arrow to the face. You cursed the universe briefly. You ran towards a parking lot, where the Avengers had decided to stand in a circle, backs to one another with a crowd of aliens around them.

"My god, what kind of strategy is that?" you mumbled to yourself.

You materialised into a middle part of the crowd and using your power to create a forcefield that knocked out a few around you. You remembered a point when Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne had to deal with "Ghost," who you had only seen for a bit. You tried to fight in a similar way, appearing and disappearing in different spots. When you got knocked into the ground from a badly timed jump, you reminded yourself to find Ghost and try to learn from her.

"Get out of here!" Captain America himself shouted, throwing his shield into the Chitauri's neck.

"No!" you stubbornly responded, jumping back into the heat of battle.

He looked surprised for a second looking at you, but you had jumped away, knowing you would need to help Natasha with the portal in a moment.

The rest of the events leading up to the need for renovations in the entire city had you sitting in a shawarma place with the Avengers. You passed by the Hydra agents that were just doing their job on your way down, but you knew they'd be taken down in a few years. They were making small talk with each other now that they had finished their meals, the owners of the restaurant giving them the special treatment that they would obviously get.

Tony was fascinated by your powers, and Bruce tried to hide his excitement but he was practically shaking in his seat as well. Neither had heard much about travelling through time and space before, and in the name of science it was something they would have loved to study. You took their offer when they said they'd wanted to learn from you, since you didn't know much about it yourself. Then Captain America himself decided he had something to say about the situation.

"I know you, don't I?" Steve said from across the table. "I know I've seen you before."

"In the 40's. You're the tiny kid, right?" you confirmed. "Nice to know you're all grown up now. Took you all of 70 years."

The rest of the group laughed at your comment, but the smile on Steve's face was pleasant and not at all upset.

"Thanks for helping me out back then."

"Well, wasn't too long ago for me. I just wait to get pulled around like a puppet on a string really," you sighed. "On that note, I have someone I need to visit."

Ghost was likely active a few years ahead of now. You didn't keep around a book or anything in case of causing a problem. You stood up and left the table without a goodbye.

"Wait!"

You had just reached the curb of the sidewalk as Steve ran up to you. His hand brushed your arm before holding your hand in his.

"Will I see you again?" he asked quietly.

You paused, studying his face as you remembered the future you had seen. You had read enough books to know that you and Steve would go on adventures and share your lives together for a very long time. You smiled fondly and squeezed his hand.

"How fast is your metabolism?" you asked

"Pretty fast. Why?" he replied, his brows furrowed.

"I'll give you 10 minutes to get to your room in Stark's tower. Race you there."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled your hand away quickly. His bright smile stayed in your mind as you ran into the street, disappearing as you went.