#and I am now realizing that of ALL of the Doctor/Rose pairings? I find them easiest to write for? what.

[doverstar]

hhhhHHHHHH - ELEVENROSE.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Back From The Dead Ch. 10

This is it, my loves. The final chapter. We will have an epilogue at some point, but as for the main fic, this is the last one. It’s been quite the journey and I hope yall have loved this fic as much as I have. That being said, go forth! Enjoy it.

Word Count: 1702

Pairing: Matt x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Childbirth (nothing too explicit!)

You progress quickly throughout the night. By 6 pm, you’re having contractions and by 8 pm, you’re feeling them. At 10, you finally ask for pain medicine and something for nausea just before getting sick. Contractions are unlike anything you’ve ever felt and you’re thankful when they give you something for pain and nausea at the same time. That lasts you until about 2 am where you find yourself wondering if you should get the epidural or not. The nurse even asks if you want it but you deny it, asking for something else for pain instead. The nurse calls Frances to get her approval and they give you something else for pain. Matt is wide awake, his concern nearly palpable and he’s the one who helps convince you to finally get the epidural around 5 am.

The change is near immediate, and you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have waited as long as you had. But there’s nothing to be done about that now and so you try to get some rest and manage a couple hours of sleep before Frances comes to check on you around 8 am. She tells you that you’re now 9 cm dilated and together you all decide to go ahead and break your water. Frances leaves with the promise to check on you at lunch if you don’t feel the need to push sooner. The next couple hours pass in a blur and you find yourself needing to press the button for your epidural more. When Frances returns to check on you, it’s decided that it’s time to push. You’re fully dilated and the contractions are coming often enough that they want to try and you agree.

With the help of Matt, the nurses, and your midwife, you bring your son into the world.

Your entire body was covered in sweat, fine tremors running through you. It had taken what felt like ages but finally, finally, your son was pressed to your chest. You gazed at the babe in wonder and awe, sheer joy coursing through your veins.

"God… he’s beautiful, Matt." Your tears ran unchecked down your cheeks, mixing with Matt's on the side where he'd pressed his head. He rose a shaking hand and gently pressed it against the baby's back, letting out a choked sob.

"You did so good, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to your temple, his free hand gently brushing your hair back.

"Are you ready to cut the cord?" The midwife asked gently and you both nodded, carefully passing the babe back to the doctor. She and the nurses helped guide Matt so he was able to cut the cord, before taking the baby to be checked over.

"Go with them, Matt. I'll be okay." You told him. He kissed your temple again before following the nurse to the edge of the room.

Over the next few minutes, the midwife helps you deliver your placenta and cleans you up while the nurses take care of your baby. Matt hovered anxiously, listening out for both of you. Only once your son was returned to your arms and Matt was able to be by your side once again, did he seem to settle.

You looked down at the little bundle in your arms and couldn't stop the smile that rose.

"He was worth it, Matt. Everything we went through, all of it, he was worth it. Thank you. Thank you for giving this to me." You whispered. Matt let out a choked laugh, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pressing his other hand against the baby's back.

"I should be thanking you, sweetheart. I… I never thought I'd have this. You've given me a family and I will never be able to express how much that means to me." He leaned his head on yours and you blinked away the tears that had risen at his words.

"Tell me what he looks like?"

“He’s beautiful. He has your nose and my mouth. His eyes are a dark blue for now but they could always change as he gets older.” He would eventually run his fingers over the babe but for now, he was content to listen to your description.

There, in your hospital room, listening to your soft voice and the coos of his child, Matt finally felt like things were going right.

After some time to yourselves and time for you to recuperate, you call up Karen and Foggy and insist they come to see you and your son. The two are so excited and race to the hospital to visit. As soon as they’re in the room, they’re cooing eagerly.

“Oh my, look at him! He’s precious.” Karen murmurs. Your son is currently asleep in Matt’s arms and she doesn’t want to wake him. Foggy is peering over Matt’s shoulder so he can see him and making quiet squeals of excitement.

“I can’t believe he’s here! You did awesome. He’s so handsome!” Foggy gushes. Matt shushes him playfully when your son squirms at the noise. Foggy immediately looks chastised and backs away.

“Relax, buddy. He’s okay.” Matt assures him and at his father’s voice, your son opens his eyes slowly and gazes up at him. His blue eyes gaze up at Matt and you’re all in awe at how quiet the babe remains.

“Has he been this quiet the whole time?” Karen asks and you nod.

“He scared me when he first came out because he didn’t scream or anything. He’s just been quiet. I’m sure he’ll find his voice though. Let him get hungry enough.” You tell her, with a short laugh. The others laugh with you.

“Okay, I’m dying to know, and I can’t wait any longer. What did you name him? You two have been majorly secretive this whole time!” Foggy exclaims. You and Matt share a grin before Matt proudly holds his head high.

“Foggy, Karen meet Michael Jack Murdock.” Both of them gasped and Karen even teared up.

“Oh… that’s perfect.” Karen told the two of you.

“Have you told Maggie yet?” Foggy asked. Matt shook his head.

“We called you two first. I was going to call her in the morning. Give all of us time to rest.” Matt said quietly. The topic of his mom was still a sore one, you knew. They were trying to work things out, but it was still touch and go. You reached over and squeezed Matt’s arm.

“We wanted you two here today because… well, we want you two to be the godparents.” You told them with a smile. Foggy immediately pumped his fist in the air while Karen clapped her hands together, bringing them in front of her face.

“I knew it! Uncle Foggy gets to be a godparent!” Foggy cheered. Michael chose that moment to coo softly and you all grinned.

“Sounds like he’s in agreement.”

“Of course he is. He knows Uncle Foggy is going to be the best.” Foggy said, proudly puffing out his chest. You all laughed until Michael began to cry softly. Immediately Matt began to soothe him, holding him close and rocking him.

“And that’s our cue. We’ll leave you three alone so you can all get some rest and recuperate.” Karen offered. You all said your goodbyes and once Karen and Foggy left the room, you turned to Matt who was still trying to console Michael. You watched fondly until Matt tilted his head in your direction and smiled.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing! It’s just… even holding a crying baby, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.” You told him. He grinned and walked over to you. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple, one you leaned into.

“I’m holding my son while the love of my life watches. What is there to be unhappy about?” You grin and laugh softly.

“I suppose when you put it that way. Though I’m sure if you could see me, you wouldn’t call me beautiful right now.” You told him jokingly before teasing, “And if I remember correctly, I was your wife a couple weeks ago.”

Matt laughed.

“Oh, don’t you worry. That’s coming. Just not today.” He told you and you sucked in a sharp breath. You felt tears well up and brushed them away quickly.

“Promises, promises, Murdock.” Matt fixed you with a small, soft smile.

“I mean it. One day, if you say yes.”

“Matthew Murdock, are you asking me to marry you?” You asked.

“Not yet. Not here. But soon? Yes. Yes, I will be.” He told you confidently and you couldn’t help but to grin.

“Then I’ll save my answer for then.”

“I’ll wait in anticipation.”

While the two of you were talking, Michael had calmed and was slowly falling back to sleep in Matt’s arms. Matt carefully sat on the edge of your hospital bed and leaned over to rest his head on your shoulder.

“You ready to get some sleep? I know you didn’t get much last night with how much pain you were in.” Matt asked quietly.

“You didn’t either. We should both get some rest while he sleeps.”

“I… I want to stay up. Just a little bit longer. I don’t want to let him go yet.” Matt admits softly. You reach up and gently run a hand through his hair.

“He’s still going to be here when you wake up, Matty.” You told him, pressing a kiss to his head.

“I know. Just… let me enjoy this.”

“Okay, baby.” Matt got up and walked over to the couch in the room and sat down.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll wake you if I need to.” Matt promised. You laid down and got as comfortable as you could. Lying there, something crossed your mind and you found you had to say something.

“Hey, Matty?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For doing this with me. For being here. For everything.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you now… I will never leave you again. I will always be here for you and for Michael. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As you drifted off, you had one last thought.

“Thank God he came back from the dead.”

[ecoamerica]

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[lunarbuck]

Dance With The Devil (6)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.3k

Summary: Sacrifices are made, and realizations come to light, but is it too late?

Warnings: violence, severe/fatal injury, blood, death 👀 (not really specified, implied i guess?), angst, crying, fluff, smoochin'

A/N: Even though I thought I wouldn't be able to post, I pulled through!! yay :) I'm sad that the series is ending... we only have one left after this 😭 thank you for sticking through it :)))

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 5 / Chapter 7

Loki

I hear a quiet knock on the door, but I do not turn at the sound.

“Pardon me, Loki.” The voice of Mrs. Peters carries across the room.

“Leave me in peace,” I reply, staring at the rose between my fingers. My flower had given it to me the day we’d spent all afternoon in the garden. As if it is aware of her absence, it has started to wilt and die, but it is all I have of her now.

“The house is under attack!” She says, her voice full of urgency. I hear the sound of tires on the pavement, footsteps on the driveway, guns being loaded. “What should we do?” She isn’t really asking me what they should do; she knows. She’s only asking to try and get me to join in the fight. But I don’t want to fight. Not anymore.

“It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.” A petal falls from the rose, and I can’t help but find it poetic, fitting for this moment.

Mrs. Peters storms out of the room, clearly upset that I’m not jumping to defend the home. I am rooted where I stand, unable to move, unable to continue on.

Flower

You throw your body against the freight container door, but it’s no use. It won’t budge. You have no idea how long you’ve been trying to get it open, but your body aches, and it feels like it’s been hours. Days even.

Your father is curled up in the corner, shivering so hard you can practically hear his teeth chattering.

There’s no way out, and the reality of it all hits you like a brick. You sink down against the wall and press the heels of your hand to your eyes. You have no idea if Loki knows what’s happening. No one is going to look for you; no one is going to find you.

You shuffle over to where your father lays and rub his back, trying to bring him even an ounce of comfort. He can’t be in here for long; he needs to be seen by a doctor. 

Time passes slowly as you wait and wait. Eventually, your father falls asleep, but you refuse to. You refuse to let your guard down for even a second.

Suddenly, footsteps crunch on the dirt outside the container, and your head shoots up. You’re standing in an instant, protecting your father from whoever is on the other side.

The lock clangs as someone tries to unlock it, but a moment later, you hear a loud snap, and the door swings open. A man dressed all in black stands on the other side, a pair of bolt cutters in hand. 

“Come with me,” the man says, gesturing with his open hand. You shake your head, stepping closer to your father. “We don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, stalking into the container.

“Don’t touch him!” you shout, pushing the man away. He doesn’t flinch; he easily slips past you and gently picks up your father.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man says, turning toward you. “We need to go before someone comes to check on you.” He walks out without another word, and you stare, stunned for a moment, before jogging to catch up with him.

The man places your father in the backseat of a car and buckles him in before opening the passenger’s side door for you. Hesitantly, you climb in and try to calm your breath.

“Who are you?” you ask as the man starts the car. 

“Charlie Peters,” he replies, pulling out of the lot and onto the road. You still don’t recognize the area; Zemo’s men took you and your father so far away from town. Your jaw drops as you connect the dots. This is Mrs. Peters’ son.

“I met your mom,” you say, settling into the leather seat. “She’s a wonderful woman.” Charlie’s eyes crinkle in the corners at your words; that’s probably as much of a smile as you’re going to get from the man.

“Yeah, she is.” You stare out the window and watch the road speed by.

“How’d you find us?” Charlie turns onto the main road toward town, and you finally start to recognize your surroundings.

“Well, I work for the Laufeysons, but I’ve been watching Zemo for a while. None of his men are good at keeping shit to themselves, so I heard about your capture and knew I had to come get you.” 

“And where are you taking us now?” You know he’s not headed in the direction of your house, but he’s also not headed back toward Loki’s.

“The Family doctor,” he says simply. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, and 10 minutes later, he pulls up outside of a single-story home. On shaky legs, you help your father into the home. Charlie talks to the doctor, who quickly begins taking your papa’s vitals. It’s nice to know that he’s being taken care of, but you’re still on edge. Your mind constantly drifts to Loki and what could possibly be happening to him. Zemo and Griffin are out for blood. You know Loki is strong but is he strong enough to take on this attack?

Charlie nudges your arm with his elbow, offering a steaming cup of tea to you. You mutter a quiet thank you and sip it, letting the warmth fill your chest. 

“Thank you for bringing us here,” you whisper, watching the doctor administer some sort of treatment to your father. Charlie just shrugs.

“There is no need to thank me, I know how important you are to Loki and everyone at the house.” Your heart stutters at the thought of everyone else at the house. Levi, Cade, and Mrs. Peters have become your family in the short time you’ve been in Loki’s care. You can’t imagine what you’d do if they were hurt.

“Do you know if they’re okay?” You ask, chewing your lower lip. This time, Charlie’s brow furrows, and you can tell he’s hesitating to tell you

“Please, Charlie, I need to know.” Guilt creeps through your bones, settling in your gut. 

Charlie shifts uneasily on his feet and pulls out his phone, scrolling through until he finds what he wants. “They haven’t been able to get into the house yet, but it’ll happen soon. Loki hasn’t mobilized anyone yet, I don’t think he will.” 

“What?” You can’t believe this. Loki is just going to sit there and let it happen.

“That’s all I know, but Loki can handle himself. You don’t need to worry about him.” You shake your head; there’s no way you won’t worry about Loki and the people in that house. Charlie steps away from you to talk to the doctor, and you don’t give yourself time to think. You blow your papa a kiss and quietly walk toward the door. Charlie must not have expected you to try to leave because as you approach the entryway table, you see his car keys. You grab them and dart out the door before he can notice you’ve disappeared.

The second you start the car, Charlie bolts out of the house, yelling at you to get out. You just grit your teeth and ignore him, pulling out of the driveway and out onto the road.

The car’s GPS doesn’t have any locations saved, but you’re able to figure out how to get back to Loki’s mansion without too much trouble. As you pull up to the house, you see the fleet of black SUVs that had surrounded you earlier, the ones that had stolen you and papa from the hospital. 

Men dressed all in black fire at each other out on the lawn and within the house, sending bodies falling left and right. You stumble out of the car and onto the pavement. Rain beats down on you, soaking you to the bone, but you don’t care. From where you stand, you can see Loki watching it all happen from the balcony of the West Wing, almost as if he hasn’t moved from where you left him.

It’s hard to believe that not even a day has passed since he gave you the necklace you now clutch between your shaking fingers. 

You watch as Loki turns and walks into his office as if in a trance. Once he’s out of sight, you scramble toward the house, ducking behind trees and cars for protection. As you get closer to the house, you see Cade tending to a wounded man a few feet away. You slip on the wet pavement, and his eyes shoot to you.

“What– what are you doing here?” He asks, patting the man on the shoulder before jogging over to you. Cade helps you up and holds your shoulders tightly, scanning your face with a kind of care you hadn’t expected him capable of.

In all honesty, you’re not really sure why you’re here. It’s not like you can stop the attack. Deep down, you know that you just want to be with him. You want to be here with Loki no matter what. He’s been alone for so long; you don’t want him to be alone in this too.

“Where is he?” You ask instead of explaining. Cade shakes his head but grips your hand in his, tugging you behind him toward the house. He covers you when you’re spotted, but he doesn’t let you get hurt. As he guides you through the battlefield, your eyes catch on the balcony of the west wing again. Though this time, you see Loki and a figure behind him. You don’t even think as you pull yourself from Cade’s grip and run toward the balcony.

“Loki!” You scream, the sound tearing from your chest. “No!”

Griffin throws himself at Loki, nearly toppling them both over the edge of the balcony. Though you know both men are armed, you know Griffin well enough that he’s a cocky bastard and will try to win with only his strength. 

Loki doesn’t even fight; he just lets Griffin take him down and beat him with his fists. You can’t tear your eyes away, even as Cade rushes to your side. He grabs your arm, but you’re stuck where you stand. You scream up at Loki and Griffin, but either they don’t hear, or they don’t care. 

“Come on,” Cade grunts, trying to pull you away. You push at his arm, tears streaming down your face.

“Why isn’t he fighting back?” You yell partially at Cade but mostly at Loki. Cade doesn’t respond. He just pushes you behind an overturned car as another round of gunfire blares through the air. 

Griffin, seemingly fed up with Loki’s lack of fight, pulls out his gun. You watch, bile rising in your throat as he fires down at Loki. His body shudders at the impact, and you scream again. You fight against Cade’s hold, but he won’t let you go. 

Loki

Blood pours from my wound, and I cradle my arm, rolling up onto my knees. He fires a few shots into the air, clearly trying to scare me and anyone else on my side into submission. But I’ve already succumbed. There is nothing left for me with her gone. Today there will be a changing of the ranks; I will be cast out from my family and everything I’ve known.  

Griffin yells at me as I grip my shoulder. “Get up! Get up! What’s the matter, Loki? Too kind and gentle to fight back?” He’s angry that I won’t give chase, that I won’t turn into the monster he knows me to be. I look down at the ground below, rain dripping from my hair into my eyes. Thunder claps loudly, but it doesn’t mask the sound of Griffin reloading his gun. 

“Griffin!” someone screams, the sound ripping from their throat. “Stop!” Griffin turns to look, anger rolling off of him in waves.

The thunder doesn’t mask the sound of my flower’s voice shouting at him to stop. I see her out on the lawn, fighting against Cade’s hold.

A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of her, disheveled and furious in the rain. “My beautiful flower.” I manage to stand as Griffin stalks to the other side of the balcony.

“Griffin, don’t!” She screams again, breaking out of Cade’s arms and running toward the house as quickly as she can.

Griffin uses my distraction to his advantage, swinging his gun at my jaw, but seeing her has lit a fire in my heart. I catch his wrist, forcing him back as I stand at my full height. I knock the weapon from his hand and hear it clatter to the ground below us. 

Without his weapon, Griffin is weak. I swing at him, my fist connecting with his face. I am stronger than him, but my wounded shoulder prevents me from using all my strength. I push him back enough to slip away, hiding in the shadows as I cover my wound.

I hear Griffin’s footsteps approaching, the section of roof we are on is large, but he will find me in a moment. “Come on out and fight!” He stops walking and begins laughing to himself. “Were you in love with her, Loki? Did you honestly think she’d want you when she had someone like me?”

A growl rips from my chest as I lunge at Griffin, tackling him.

Griffin backs away from me, holding his arms out. “It’s over, Loki! She’s mine!”

I shake my head. Fuck him. The thought of her hands on another man, the thought of someone else tainting her skin with their touch sends fury ripping through me. Now that I have had her, that she has slipped her way into my heart she is mine. I am hers, she owns me heart and soul. No one has ever made me feel this way, I don’t want anyone but her. 

I tackle him once more and grip him by the throat, whipping a large knife out of my belt. I shove it through his shoulder, pinning him to the roof. He howls in pain as I remove my pistol from its holster and place it against his forehead.

Griffin goes pale, shaking beneath me, unwilling to take the punishment for his actions. Like a pussy, he starts begging me for his life. “Don’t kill me! Please, don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything! Anything!”

I click the safety off and put a bullet in the chamber. My finger rests on the trigger, ready to press, but I don’t. I stare at the man below me and shock myself as I stand, stepping away from him.

From the balcony above me, I hear a voice call to me. “Loki!” I turn and see her. My beauty, tears and rain streaking her face.

I call back to her, choking on her name. I climb up the roof to her, pulling myself up on the side of the balcony. She stands in front of me, gripping my shoulders. I don’t even feel the pain in my wound. She has erased it all.

“You came back,” I whisper, unable to believe she is here.

She stares back at me, shaking her head and smiling softly as if she, too, cannot believe it. I feel her tug on me, trying to pull me over the ledge, and I move to help her when something tears its way into my back.

I cry out in pain as Griffin lodges the blade I’d stabbed him with into my back. My flower grips me as I sway with the movement of Griffin pulling it out. He tries to stab me again, but this time, his grip slips. He doesn’t have someone on the other side to hold him steady.

Griffin falls for what feels like an eternity, and I do not look down to see where he lands.

My flower doubles her efforts to pull me to safety, and I do my best to climb up, but I feel the strength pouring from my wounds.

Black invades my vision as she lays me on the balcony. Her face is all I see as I fight to keep my eyes open. Her beautiful bright eyes, her kind smile. The pain overcomes me, and I finally give in, letting my eyes fall shut.

Flower

As Loki’s eyes close, you feel the world cave in. 

“Loki,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face, melding with the raindrops that soak your skin.

Loki’s eyes flicker open, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “You came back.” This time it isn’t a question; he doesn’t doubt what he sees before him. His hand reaches to your cheek, fingers fitting around your jaw and back into your hair, holding you how he always would.

“Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them-- This is all my fault. If only I’d gotten here sooner--” You lean your face into his hand, placing your fingers over his, trying to get closer to his embrace.

“Your beauty has started wars, my pet, and you think I would not fight for you?” You shake your head, this never should have happened. “Maybe it’s better this way,” Loki grunts, a slight smirk upon his lips. His thumb brushes the tears from your cheek.

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be all right. We’re together now,” you sniffle, trying to hold your voice steady. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” you can’t hide the way your words crack, but you want to be strong. For him. For Loki. 

“At least I got to see you one last time.” 

As his hand falls from your face, your world shatters. Your heart stops beating, the Earth stops turning. 

“No... please, no...”

The rain beats down on you as you collapse on top of Loki’s quiet form. You sob into his chest, holding onto the lapel of his jacket.

You are oblivious to the watchful eyes of Cade, Levi, and Mrs. Peters on you, the sad glances they exchange, knowing their fate is sealed.

“No, no,” you sob, lifting your head to look at Loki’s face. You touch your forehead to his, wishing he would just open his eyes and smile at you as if it were all some stupid joke. “Please don’t leave me. I love you.” Tilting your head, you press a final kiss to his lips, still soft and warm.

Thunder cracks loudly above you, and footsteps scuff against the wet cement. Warm hands press against your back, and a loud sob escapes from your lips. Mrs. Peters crouches beside you, moving your soaking hair from your face. Even though you’re draped over Loki’s body, she still embraces you.

“I’m not going to make you come inside,” she whispers, gently running her fingers along your spine. “I’m not going to make you do anything, dear.” You nod, sobbing into Loki’s chest. New footsteps, and then Levi is crouching down on the other side of Loki. He places a hand on Loki’s forehead, a mournful look stitched into his features. 

“Zemo’s men are either all dead or contained. There’s a doctor here, though; she should come out here,” he says gently. You nod, and Levi waves out the doctor. She looks young, but if she’s employed by the Laufeysons, she must be trustworthy. You hold onto Loki’s hand as she examines Loki. You don’t know how he can be saved at this point. His wounds are too severe.

Cade steps out as well and crouches beside you and Levi. “They’re here.” His voice is low and gruff, it’s filled with grief. He turns to you and gives you a sad look. “Loki’s uncle,” he explains. “He’s here to take over since the contract wasn’t fulfilled.” Contract?

He’s running out of time.

You shake your head, not ready to admit all that this means for Loki’s people.

“You love him?” The doctor asks you, pulling your attention. 

You stare at her, head foggy from tonight’s events. “Yes,” you whisper. The doctor nods, then calls over a man. They speak in hurried whispers before two more men come to the doctor’s side. 

“We need to bring him inside if we’re going to help him,” she tells you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You nod, and the second you do, the men lift Loki and carry him back into the west wing.

You wake slowly, eyes struggling to open fully. Your body feels heavy, but your head is clear. It takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do you see Mrs. Peters in the chair beside the bed. You’re drowning in pillows and blankets; part of you wants to settle back in and go back to sleep.

The other part of you doesn’t let you forget what happened to Loki.

You shoot upright, head spinning at the movement. “Loki,” you whisper, throat dry.

“It’s okay, dear,” Mrs. Peters says, quickly moving to your side. “Shh, shh.” She places her hand on your head and eases you back into bed.

“What– what’s going on?” You ask as she brings a glass of water to you.

“You’ve been asleep for quite some time, dear. You were sick, so surely that was part of it, but I think the rest was fear.” You sip the water and nod, images of Loki’s lifeless wounded body on the wet balcony flashing through your mind.

Mrs. Peters opens her mouth to speak again, but you shake your head. You don’t want to hear more about that night or what happened to Loki. 

Even though your head protests, you shuffle out of the pile of blankets. You slide out of bed on unsteady legs and take a deep breath. Mrs. Peters follows close behind, and you walk out of the room and into the hallway. Even though each step feels impossible, you finally make it to the kitchen.

Mrs. Peters jumps into action, making you a quick breakfast while you stare out the kitchen window to the yard outside. It’s hard to believe that a few days ago, it was a battlefield littered with bodies. When she places the food in front of you, you eat despite not feeling hungry.

Time passes strangely, your thoughts muddled. What happens next? Where do you go from here?

You move through the days in a trance, each day bleeding into the next. It takes almost three days for the fog in your mind to clear. Something has been happening in the house, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Levi and Cade have been checking in on you, but you don’t want to talk to anyone. You just sit with your thoughts and wait for something to change. Wait for something to get better.

Tonight, the sky is clear, and the stars shine brightly through the darkness. You find yourself on the balcony in the west wing.

You stare out at the sky, looking for answers. Even just standing out here makes your throat tight with emotion. Images of Loki bleeding to death in front of you flash before your eyes. You can practically feel him, his presence with you now.

You tell yourself there’s no use standing out here, so you turn around to leave when your breath catches.

Loki leans against the entry to the balcony, a hand braced against the wall, the other pushing hair out of his face. Tears bloom in your eyes, and you make no effort to hold them back. You want to run to him, but your feet don’t move.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, cocking his head and grinning mischievously. Loki slowly walks toward you, masking his injuries well but not well enough to deceive you into thinking he is fully healed.

You spring forward when he is only a few steps away, practically launching yourself at him. Loki catches you in his embrace, enveloping you with his long arms. 

“It’s you,” you whisper into his chest, hearing his heart beating wildly beneath his ribs.

“It’s me,” he whispers, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your tears are wetting his shirt, but you don’t care.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes, my flower, I’m alive.” You tilt your chin up and find Loki already looking down at you, bright eyes shining with adoration. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes gleaming, and kisses you.

He lifts you off your feet, not breaking contact, and takes your breath away. His kiss is all-encompassing. It scares away any doubt you ever had of Loki’s strength. It’s a balm soothing your wounds.

It’s all him.

The fairytales might’ve gotten something right. The feeling of being in Loki’s arms again, of his hands holding you, of his lips pressing against yours, is magic. Right now, you’re invincible as long as you’re with Loki. 

Even though the day you met him, you thought Loki was a monster, there’s something there… it’s always been there; you just weren’t ready to see it.

“My beauty,” he whispers, breaking from the kiss. He still holds you, still doesn’t let you out of his embrace. “I thought I’d lost you.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You could never lose me,” you reply. Loki smiles that mischievous grin that makes your heart thud and laughs.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. “I love you.”

“Loki,” you can barely speak, barely breathe, at his confession. His bright eyes stare deeply into yours, seeing right through you, and you melt. “I love you.”

All is right in the world as Loki kisses you breathless. He carries you back into the home, through his office, and to a room you’ve never been into before. A large bed catches your attention, and Loki wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, sending laughter bursting through you.

He tosses you onto the bed and climbs on top of you, crowding you with his larger body. Your heart sings with the feeling of truly being at home. At peace.

Papa always told you that home is where the heart is. Truer words have never been spoken.

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[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

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taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

[writingstuffandmore]

EXO Mafia Yandere Poly Au Reaction

Pairing:- OT9 x fem reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff (at end)

AU!: Mafia, Yandere

Warning: mentions of swearing, curse words, killing

Requested: Yes

A/N: I am so sorry for the huge delay 😭😭 I hope you will like it and also.. I did some research for the type of Yandere. Please forgive me for any error.. I hope you enjoy it! A small reminder this is just my portrayal of them for fiction purpose..

Also since Chen is married I haven't mentioned his name.

Tagging: @finding-galaxys @changshapatrol @bbhmystar @atiny-exol

It's been two months. Two freaken months, since this has began. The cold shoulders and responses at first you can get their small smiles, eye smiles which held so much of warmth but now it's nothing! It feels as if it's just you living on this mansion all alone with a bunch servants who are your only family. Who have been the only ones taking care of you no matter who much work they have.

It was too much for you to handle, you had planned to talk to them but how and when yet you knew it was necessary not only for you but for the little angel who was about to come in a few months. By some miracle you were getting your answers the very next day.

The next day you woke up with slight headache due to the amount of tears shed, slightly brushing your teeth and then gargling with lukewarm water you came out of the room only to be hit with a totally rich aroma of food and fragrance of roses along with soft music playing in the background. You really thought that you had died because for the past almost two months the house was eerily quiet and such sudden noise was rather quite scary frankly to be said, it was a gentle tap and your name being called did you turn to see Kyungsoo and Suho standing with soft smiles plastered on their faces.

As you saw them, the first reaction was to go and hug them tightly but as you were so upset for the this all time, you coldly greeted them before going to the kitchen. Both Kyungsoo and Suho exchanged a glance before following you thinking that it maybe because of the hormones.

Kyungsoo: Hey, babe. Both me and hyung prepared this food for you and don’t worry, i had spoken to the doctor as well as the pediatrician, so its completely safe for you to eat.

Y/N (coldly): Thank you but i can’t anything for now except for a slice or two of bread as i feel nauseous and might vomit but maybe later on i might try to eat. You have food, i will leave.

Xiumin who just came back with Chanyeol after buying some milkshakes, fresh fruit juices, fruits and medicines for you were all stunned when they heard this conversation exchange and the way you left with a small plate carrying two slices without greeting them. Chanyeol aggressively rubbed his temples before plopping on the ouch loudly with the others.

Chanyeol: What just happened? Is it because of her raging horm-

Xiumin: Its more than that. There is something which is bothering her and especially due to lack of our presence both in staying here and having a decent conversation, might be adding fuel to her frustration.

The others nodded to his response and that’s when Ms Dia the head house in charge entered the living room. She saw the gentlemen sitting, greeted them, asked them about their work and was about to leave before Suho stopped her.

Suho: Dia aunty, what has happened to Y/N? Is everything okay? is the baby troubling her or something?

Ms Dia: Son, the baby developing may at times troubles every mother, its only when  it creates serious issues for the mother, we have to look in. Anyways, Its more than the changes of hormones and baby troubling. The problem is you all.

Them: US???????

Ms Dia slightly nodded before speaking: Yes, you all. Do you guys realize how long its been since you had a proper food at the dining with Y/N or having a  conversation with her asking about how is she feeling, maybe spending like 2 mins out of your busy schedule. Nothing, did you do. As much as rude i am being sounding but that’s not how things work especially if you have a woman whose carrying your own child in question. As much as it sounds a sweet and happy stuff which it really is but it becomes really exhaustive for the mother in question. Its not just about her mood change, or food cravings its more than the bullshit seen in the movies and tv shows. My only suggestion would be that give her 10 mins and then talk to her but please let her do the whole monotone as only then you would understand.

The all four nodded and thanked her before planning something for you.

Chanyeol: I am getting angry and i might go and punch someone. 

Kyungsoo: Yah! as much as i wanna hate to admit but god damn it, its our own fault. 

Suho: I know a way.

After an hour, these four knocked at your room’s door and you didn’t had the option to say no because you too wanted your answers,Therefore, you called them in while trying to busing yourself in the novel in your hand. 

Xiumin: Hey princess!! I missed you so much! I missed your hugs especially being your Minnie.

You had a small smile appearing but you quickly let it down and hmmed at his response.

Suho: Are you still angry with us? Say something.

What does he mean by still? and this furthered angered you. Not so gently you placed the book on the bed before coldly glaring at them.

Y/N: What do you guys want now? If its for food. I told you I will have it when I feel be-

Suho: Even you know this not the conversation we all our looking forward to.

Y/N: Then, I don’t know what do you wanna know then? I am alive and so is the baby and thats all what its matters in this household right?

Chanyeol: Oh come on Y-

Kyungsoo (cut off Chanyeol’s sentence): Its a priority baby along with your health and happ-

Y/N: If you all mattered my happiness then, this wouldn’t have happened. I get that working as a mafia is a serious profession with responsibilities and duties on another level but what did I ask you guys in whole these months even in my pregnancy? Nothing!! I didn’t expected anything because I knew what was happening. Even my health got deteriorated, sleep got affected I didn’t say anything because I knew you had too much on plate. You all were physically and emotionally more drained. The only thing I asked was if we could spend like 5 mins together out of the 24 hours. Was it too much? If then 10 seconds or probably 5 seconds were enough for me. What did i get in return nothing except for cold shoulders, cold responses, not a single look given at me felt loved or warmth. Thats why i separated myself but I couldn’t do well but thankfully I had Dia aunty or else i would have di-

Kyungsoo: Don’t you dare to complete that shit babe. You know well how bad and crazy we can go even if someone tries to even think about you at the first place.

Y/N: But this didn’t help me at all. I would just ask one thing from you, take your time before answering me. Do you want.. no wait, Do you want both me and the baby?

This sentence was powerful enough for them to feel that the land below their feet has had gone before long, bringing tears to their eyes and making them cry.

All of them: We are so sorry Y/N. Please... We didn’t meant to do what has happened. I-If you w-want you c-could leave us because we don’t deserve you. Just remember that if you leave us none of us would be alive. We are sorry and w-we l-love you.

Okay, now you are too are crying and is being emotional. 

Y/N: I-I am sor-

Xiumin: You don’t need to apologize baby. Maybe, at least through this we all kept our feelings on the table and this strengthened our bond right?

Xiumin gently rubbed your back before kissing your forehead.

Chanyeol: Hey, lets eat food now.

You then heard an ear deafening scream, turning all the heads towards the source. 

Baekhyun: I am sorry but I just a lizard on that stupid wall! I will ask someone to sh-

Lay: Idiot, you can’t say this in front of someone who is pregnant.

Baekhyun: But our child will carry o- Okay, I am sorry.

Lay looked at you with a soft smile before kissing your nose and the womb: Hey, my two beautiful angels. I am extremely sorry for the emotional trouble you too had to carry but here i am with a small surprise just for you. Can you guess for us angel?

You nodded but couldn’t come up with anything. Your cute confused look made all of them giggle.

Baekhyun: The surprise is that we all our going for a month’s vacation to your favourite beach. We are leaving tomorrow morning which is exactly like 12-14 hours from now but don’t worry. The closet and wardrobe would be there. Only your essentials would be kept.

You squealed in happiness and was about to jump before Lay stopped you.

Lay : Princess, you have to be careful especially this floor isn’t meant for jumping. Also, Kai and Sehun would directly join at the resort after completing the tasks.

You couldn’t be more happier, maybe it does require some efforts and confrontation but the results are worth off. Here, you were happy by looking at the new affection side after your pregnancy reveal but at the same time you have unlocked their new side of clingy behavior type. Good luck with that!!

You may ask why the other two boys are joining directly at the resort because they have to kill all the people who posed a threat to you and especially that bodyguard of yours who kept you company while they were busy. Damn, it was such a frustrating for not to shoot him right then and there but the things you do in love. Especially for the person whom you love crazily!

[jamespotterthefirst]

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Book: Open Heart, Book 2

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)

Words: 1K

Premise: AU where she is dating someone else upon his return from the Amazon.

Author’s Note: Once upon a time, I posted “War of the Roses” where I mentioned a CEO ex of my MC. I said his FC was the glorious Henry Cavill. I spiraled from there. @ashiiknees​ had the brilliant idea of this AU angst fic. Thank you so much, darling! Also, thank you to @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading!

A smile so charming and sharp illuminates his features as he studies her, pinning her like a butterfly with a single look. It is so reminiscent of something familiar, something that once felt like home. Lilac feels her throat tighten.

“You could give me a run for my money at the negotiation table,” Malcolm laughs, his breath brushing her lips moments before his mouth does.

After only a millisecond of hesitation, Lilac kisses him back, the dread in her stomach easing at his touch. The guilt this inspires is almost suffocating. Yet, she kisses him fully, allowing herself to get lost in his scent. When they pull apart, she summons an easy smile.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Those steel, grey eyes assess her with such intensity that she almost jerks back in response. Before she can help it, she is tormented by the memory of a different pair—blue, intense, and so piercing that every time they fell on her, she felt bare before him.

Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever… whatever it is we had.

Had.

The single word still feels like the twist of a knife.

“No thanks necessary,” Malcolm assures her, cupping her chin gently. “I’m really glad we were able to talk. To try and make this work.”

Lilac nods once in acknowledgement, unsure how else to respond. Luckily, she is spared from elaborating further by the everpresent ringing of his phone. Malcolm glances at the screen and sighs heavily.

“Duty calls,” he tells her. “Meet you at my place tonight?”

“See you there.”

With one last kiss, he brings the phone to his ear and moves past Lilac on his way to the exit. Now alone in the tiny hospital break room, she lets out a shuddering breath.

With a tiny wave of determination, she turns to watch him go.

And freezes when her eyes fall on a different figure standing at the door.

Ethan is rooted on the spot, unable to move, as though his stomach sinking like a stone is weighing him down.

“... the numbers of the Tokyo account.”

The tall, suit-clad man doesn’t even glance at Ethan as he rushes past him, too rapt in his phone call to take notice of anything. As soon as he vanishes around the bend of the hallway, Ethan's eyes fall on the lonesome figure in the desolate room.

Lilac stands with her back to him, all but shriveling inward as she hugs her arms around herself. With a steadying breath, she finds composure, becoming the Lilac everyone knows, standing tall and determined.

Then, she turns and her eyes find his.

It's like a torrent, hitting him at full force, threatening to knock him off balance.

The inconsequential noise of the hospital falls away to leave room for a long, almost stifling silence between them. Neither of them makes an effort to look away or move, suspended in that moment, desperately hoping to prolong it as long as they could look at each other.

Ethan’s eyes take her in, feasting on her after two months of starving, so far away from her. For a moment, he thinks he can see the same longing reflected in her eyes. Then, an invisible mask clasps into place and she raises her chin higher with dignity.

“Doctor Ramsey,” she says at last, her voice as cool and collected as her expression.

It stings more than it should.

“This lounge is for employees only,” he says in response. The words are out before he can stop them.

“Understood, Doctor,” she says at once though Ethan can hear the edge of sarcasm in her tone. “I’ll make sure to meet with him elsewhere in the future.”

Something coils in his stomach at the words, bitter and as agonizing as an open wound. Before he can allow himself to react, however, he remembers this is what he wanted when he left for Brazil. He wanted her to move on, even if he knew from the moment he boarded that plane that such an alternative might never be a reality for him.

“Be sure that you do,” he says, keeping his voice even.

To his surprise, Lilac laughs at this, a dark, humorless sound that is uncharacteristic to her.

“Don't pretend you're this concerned about a minor breach in the employee handbook.”

“I don't know what you could be refer—”

“You have no right to pull the jealousy card.”

He says nothing. Even after a year of knowing her, the accuracy with which she could call him out still surprised him. Despite the steel wall he tried to build, she always found her way in, right to the center of his true nature.

“You're right. I don't.”

This seems to infuriate her even more. The color rises to her cheeks, her nostrils flaring as she takes in an uneven breath. Her bottom lip quivers for a brief moment and with a pang, he realizes her anger is her desperate attempt to cover the hurt.

“You left.”

Silence.

The only sound is Ethan's heart pounding furiously at his ears, valiantly trying to keep itself from crumbling to pieces.

“You left without a word goodbye. I had no idea where you had gone until Naveen told me. For two months I wondered if you were okay or if—” her voice trembles slightly. Angry at this betrayal of emotion, she tries again, “—if I had done something wrong.”

“Lilac, you—”

“And then, after crying for nights on end over you, I realized that I was raised to demand better treatment from others. I wasn't going to waste my time waiting for someone who only slept with me twice before he got bored of me.”

Ethan clenches his jaw against the lie, each word as vicious as a lashing.

“I deserve better.”

His throat constricts painfully.

“I deserve Malcolm.”

The worst part is that Ethan can't even disagree with her.

The longest silence yet follows. Neither says anything, though they each look as though they have years worth of words to say to one another. For Ethan, it is summarized in three words. Three words he was too cowardly to admit from the moment he realized he meant them. Three words he was foolish enough to believe he could forget in the Amazon.

Three words that, no matter how constantly and how fiercely he said them, would never be enough. Not anymore.

Lilac looks at him, eyes scanning his face desperately, almost as if she can sense the unsaid.

“This is how things are now, Ethan. Just how you wanted.”

“I never wanted —” he blurts. He stops, thinking instead of the one truth that guided him all those weeks apart from her:  “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

Author’s Note: Not me thinking of ways to get them back together. Also, that tiny bit in Lilac’s speech was inspired by AOC saying "I am here because I have to show my parents that I am their daughter — and that they did not raise me to accept abuse from men."

If I write more in this universe, it will be my mission to name them all after ABBA songs. Maybe I should just do that for all of my future works. 

Thanks so much for reading!

*Tagging in a reblog*

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[hypmic-writings]

Ok now we need tattoo headcanons or something 😩 ur killin me smalls

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Pairing: Samatoki Aohitsugi x reader; Jakurai Jinguji x reader ; Doppo Kannonzaka x reader

Genre: General/Tattoo!AU 

Warnings: None

A/N: Who am I to deny the people?! For real though, I love this idea so I’m just gonna roll with it. I did Jakurai, Doppo, and Samatoki since those were the ones that were mentioned in earlier posts/asks. I apologize in advance...Jakurai’s got a little angsty haha Enjoy the tattoo headcanons~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Samatoki Aohitsugi

Samatoki has so many tattoos that it’s impossible for you to keep track of all of them

he started getting them when he was younger and just getting into the Yakuza, and as he rose through the ranks he got more and more

some are smaller and indicate dates or symbols that are important to him or the syndicate he used to run with

others are larger and either purely for the aesthetic or to symbolize his role as the leader of his group of yakuza members

he definitely has a large back tattoo and whenever he takes his shirt off you just kind of stare at it because it’s so beautiful

at the beginning they were all black and white but when he got his back piece done he had a little bit of color added to it - mainly darker, mood colors like traditional yakuza tattoos

he absolutely loves it whenever you run your hands along his tattoos

it’s an ego booster in a way when he watches you in awe over all of the lines and designs covering his body

this is absolutely how you find his sensitive places because sometimes you’ll just be tracing a tattoo and Samatoki will suddenly squeak or shiver and you’ll just evilly grin and tuck that piece of information away for later

sometimes when the two of you are cuddling or just being lazy in bed together, you’ll find a tattoo that you didn’t know about and just sort of flail around a little bit like

“Wait, what’s this one?? How long has this been here?!”

“Huh? Oh, yea I got that when I was like 18...did you really not notice it until just now?”

if you ask him to get matching tattoos, he’s absolutely going to agree but he’ll demand that he gets to approve the design and he’ll put limits and criteria to the size and type

 as he gets older and becomes the leader of his own group, he gets super strict about his tattoos, only wanting them for specific reasons and demanding them to look perfect

and his tattoos are all super cohesive to look like one huge piece it’s just really beautiful and intricate

because now he has an image to uphold and he has to look the part

Jakurai Jinguji

Jakurai has a huge snake/dragon tattoo on his back that represents his time as an assassin

I can imagine it either being a really classical, japanese style serpent and maybe with some accents like flowers or maybe a mempo or an oni mask

he would want the serpent to represent his time as an assassin, relating to the cold nothingness he felt when he would kill and the sly cunningness it took to be in that business

the flowers would be symbolic of the first kill he ever made - he was young and having trouble suppressing his emotions of guilt and sadness over taking a life

so he visited the grave of the person he had assassinated and saw that someone had placed flowers on it

those flowers would be the ones he gets as a tattoo to remind himself that life is precious and that if he’s willing to take a life he should be willing to stand up and face the consequences 

the mask would represent the confliction that he still feels towards himself - he saw himself as a demon for so long, a fighter that would take lives and live only for himself

but once he realized that he couldn’t do it anymore and he couldn’t live with all of that guilt on his conscience, he gave up his life in the assassins guild and decided to become a doctor

and so the mask helps to remind him that he has to continue to work towards healing and saving lives to make up for the ones he took during his time as a demon/warrior

an anon suggested this and I love it - I can also see him getting a tattoo resembling the staff of caduceus 

which not only is used in medical practices, but could also be Jakurai’s way of showing that the serpent that was once a merciless killer can change for the better and save lives as well, just as he did

the first time you see his tattoo is when you stayed over at his place after you had been dating for a while 

you sat there in awe, tracing it slowly and asking what it meant as Jakurai just chuckled saying that he would tell you later

he’s extremely happy that you like his tattoo because in a way it feels like you’re accepting all of the parts of him - the successful, compassionate doctor that he is today, as well as the ruthless, cold-blooded killer he once was a long time ago

kiss his tattoos and wrap your arms around him from behind while whispering how much you love him and you might actually make him cry

don’t imagine Jakurai being little spoon while you hold him tightly in your arms and cries, letting out all of the anger and resentment he’s held towards himself for so long

as you help him come to terms with the caring, empathetic person he’s become and teach him how to love himself

Doppo Kannonzaka

Doppo got his full sleeves of tattoos at Hifumi’s command when the latter started up his tattoo shop

at first, Doppo was terrified, not wanting to disappoint Hifumi and be a bad canvas for his first customer

but after Hifumi reassured him, Doppo was willing to accept the tattoos

I can imagine them being very traditional Japanese designs, something that Hifumi spent a lot of time studying and perfecting

everything would be connecting and the whole sleeve would have different symbols and colors, but are all part of the whole piece

it would have aspects that might seem melancholic or somber at first, but within each tattoo would be detail and intricacy holding the piece together that ultimately makes the tattoo very strong and cohesive

which  suits Doppo quite perfectly

Doppo is extremely careful never to show his tattoos at work, always wearing long sleeves with his jacket 

since tattoos aren’t always socially acceptable in Japan, I can imagine Doppo having a bit of anxiety about it at first, lamenting how nobody would ever let him into their establishments ever again

but over time, he’d become more comfortable with his tattoos, knowing that nobody could see them unless he chose to show them off

you aren’t aware of Doppo’s tattoos for the longest time until one day when you’re walking in the park and it suddenly starts pouring and Doppo lends you his jacket but then his white shirt gets soaked through 

and you’re just standing there staring, mouth agape at the sleeves covering his arms

he’s embarrassed at first, thinking that you’ll hate them or that you won’t ever want to speak with him again

but once you tell him how much you love them and ask him to look at all of them, Doppo will feel slightly proud and will happily show them to you

from then on, whenever you compliment his tattoos or tell him how good they look on him, Doppo’s going to get a little bit more confidence and that’s really attractive to you

whenever he gets pissed off at his work or starts ranting about his job while he’s changing, you try to be supportive, but he just looks so irresistible with his fully tatted sleeves and his fiery anger that you have to hold yourself back from pouncing on him right then and there

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[lupically]

#3B797A | XIAO.

genre | angst

word count | 1707

warning | mention of death, mention of blood, faint mention of injury

note | this was originally posted on my other writing blog, i am moving it here because... well, i have a genshin writing blog now. and, once again, this is not very good. let’s hope i get better at this!

if karmic debt is a real thing, this must be xiao’s worst one yet.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after the first time you died on him.

he has never felt anguish like it.

of all the invisible chains tied around his struggling limbs and his fragile neck, of all the pain and misery he has been put through over the years of his catastrophic life, of all the repressed memories and emotions he kept fighting back to keep his sanity at bay, he has never felt anguish and manic like he did when he saw your lifeless body on the ground with an arrow stuck to your back.

it was the worst one yet, especially when he was the reason why you ended up with a bed of bloody roses underneath you.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after that.

and then came the second time you died. that was also because of him.

the blood that trickled down your lips as you smiled at him was vivid in his memories. he was supposed to be fond of the way you felt relieved to see him there, after he had carried you behind a fallen wall so you didn’t have to see him deal with the treasure hoarders who put you in such a bad state for trying to take a pair of emerald earrings back.

he was, to a certain degree, when you choked out his name in that god-awfully brilliant voice of yours. it was faint, but he could hear the genuine happiness in you when you called his name.

you were always so excited to see him. ever since you dropped atop of him from the sky, apparently coming from nowhere, you have been happy to see him. he was undeserving of that; the chances you have given him at experiencing how soft this world can be was undeserved, but nonetheless, xiao was fond of the way you make him feel, more than he would like to admit, more than anything he has ever seen or heard or felt in this world.

you were the fondest he has ever felt. it was all you.

but the fondness goes like dust and ashes when you reached up with the pair of emerald earrings you bought him, which he dumped in the middle of the ruins because he was being petty about something insignificant he could no longer remember.

the sight of them gave him a moment of realization—you were here because of him.

and then you took your last breath—you died because of him, again.

he didn’t know how to feel when you didn’t respond to your own name. he kept calling for you—[name], wake up, he said. [name], stop playing around, you know you’re not funny, he said. [name], [name], [name]. but your eyes remained closed, so he held you close for the first time, and he exchanged the tears with apologies.

he promised he would keep an eye out for his actions after that.

yet here he was.

don’t die. please don’t die.

he dropped his spear and crouched down frantically next to you. he was still panting from the fight with the three ruin guards patrolling around fallen pillars and buildings, but what made him stress, even more, was less because of his sore body and more because of your bleeding head.

“[name]? [name], open your eyes, right now!” he said—scolded, in the voice he always talked to you with, the fondly defeated tone that showed he has surrendered his annoyance for your happiness, but with more urgency this time.

you coughed, feeling more lifeless than ever. there was a rush of deja vu back then, just a few moments ago when xiao gently laid you against the wall and left after telling you to stay still and keep your eyes open for him. it was like you have lived through this moment before, but you were hurting too much from your head wound to think into it.

xiao breathed out a sigh of relief.

thank the archons.

“hey, xiao…” you greeted with a faint smile, then you reached your hand up to give him the quingxin you picked. “flowers… got you flowers… for crowns… ”

he pursed his lips. you silly! you bone-head! why did you not just buy them from the flower shop? was what he wanted to say. even though knowing you, you would probably spill some weird argument like how flowers picked by other people wouldn’t have the same freshness and love in them, and he would say nothing because there was no winning for him when it comes to you.

he never has anything to say. nothing to go against your favors, and certainly nothing that makes you worry ever again. nothing that will get you running into forests alone to pick him flowers and risk the chance of you stumbling into ruin guards, or hilichurls, or treasure hoarders, or abyss mages.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

“come on, let’s get you to the doctor, okay?” he said as he discarded the flowers at a frantic pace.

he looped your arms around his neck and hoisted you on his back. his spear sparkled next to the white flowers on the ground, reflecting a halo glow upward as if telling on him to the sky about what he did to you again. he took off running back to the city, praying to the archons that he could end your pain quicker, that he could find someone to stop the hurting faster.

but it seemed destiny had other plans.

he paused for a second to catch his breath. he did not notice the way your arms had long gone slack around his shoulders, and how you kept slipping off his back as if you could no longer support yourself. he was deliberately ignoring the details that signified your death, his delusional consciousness wishfully thinking that he would make it to the doctors in time.

“we’re getting there, [name],” he said as if he could still feel your short breath against his neck.

“you’re going to be fine, i will make sure,” he said as he began walking as if he could still feel your chest heave against his back.

“i will keep you safe next time, i promise,” he said as he leaned forward a little because your lifeless body was starting to slip off his back again.

“and then we can go pick flowers together, and you can make me flower crowns,” he croaked with guilted tears running down his cheeks, a smile on his face as if he wasn’t just given hope that he could save you this time, only to have you die on his back.

all because he said he would never put on a flower crown, and you insisted that he has to try.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

the evil archon was silent when xiao appeared before it with your dead body. this was the third time. it was starting to see a pattern, and all it felt was glee that the pattern it has carefully cultivated was working in its favor.

because what better to keep the adepti under control than to make him feel indebted to itself? what better to keep the adepti under control than to keep reviving his dead lover and make him think they have a surviving chance this time around? what better to keep the adepti under control than to kill his lover and use his guilt against him every single time?

“dead again? what have you done?”

“please… help me…” xiao laid your body before the archon, which was just a statue without a face.

“reviving a human that was consumed by death takes a great deal of power, alatus.”

xiao gritted his teeth, but he said nothing when he could feel your skin under his gripping fingers. he lowered his head, pushing down the horrendous amount of anger and humiliation to the back of his mind, and he begged.

he begged for another chance to see your beautiful eyes smile under the moon again, he begged for another chance to hear you talk on and on about the wondrous world you two live in together, he begged for another chance to feel your radiant soul live near him and to let you show him around the city as if he could not already navigate through it with his eyes closed.

(he could not. he knew the concrete roads and the old stone walls, but he could never know about the smooth flower petals dancing with the wind and the tender glow of the sky everyone shared without you taking his hand and dragging him across all parts of the world.)

(just like cotton candy, you told xiao. his frown melts like cotton candy, whatever cotton candy was.)

“i’ll do anything,” he said.

“for the mortal. really.”

“i will do anything,” xiao declared again.

the golden flair in his eyes almost made the evil archon shiver.

it was radiating off of him—the heat of anguish and terror that he had once killed you, the heat of unfairness and humiliation that he has to stoop so low as to meddle with life and death, the heat of extreme affection for a lover he now has nowhere to cast upon because the sole receiver has long died in his arms.

all for a mortal. a special mortal. a mortal who has made someone who hates, love. a mortal who has made him, him who hates and scorns, love. not just themself, but everything else around him—music, flowers, lights, cities. a mortal who made sure he will always love, still, even after the sole reason for his affection is gone and he no longer has a reason to be gentle.

the archon wanted to laugh.

truly. the only thing more maleficent than love itself is the act of using it against someone.

looking at xiao right now—inadequate, fragile, chained, and so miserable.

oh, how it worked in its favor.

it has done so many things to the poor boy, but this one, oh, this would be the worst one yet.

[alltooreid]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals. 

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude. 

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore. 

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved. 

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her. 

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team. 

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.  

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.  

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue. 

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care. 

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . .  I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​ @hercleverboy​

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Amoreena | chapter eleven

chapter eleven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

June 13th, 2010

There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.

She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.

Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.

“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.

“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.

“Which one of them died?”

“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.

He would have been on next Saturday.

“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.

She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?

She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.

Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.

Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.

The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.

“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.

It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.

She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.

she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”

“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.

All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.

She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.

They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.

“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.

—

September 2012

This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…

“What do you mean you have cancer?”

Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.

“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”

She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”

“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.

Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.

Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.

Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.

—

June 14th, 2021

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.

Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.

In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life

Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.

Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.

Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.

He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.

Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.

She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.

“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”

Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”

She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”

“Yeah?”

“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.

“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.

“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.

“How do we find out?”

She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.

“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”

Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.

Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”

“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.

“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.

Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”

Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.

“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.

“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”

“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.

“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.

“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.

She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.

“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”

“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”

Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”

“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”

Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”

“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.

"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.

She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.

“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”

Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”

Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.

And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!

[spenciegoob]

Petrichor (Blurb)

A/N: hi hi hi! I wrote this instead of PWYC pt. 5 and i’m sorry, but enjoy!

Summary: Reader loved the rain, but Spencer loved them a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff

Content Warnings: none! it’s just good feeling, happy fluff

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2K

____

One day they described the rain to me, how it felt to watch it dance on top of cars from their old apartment. How at ease their mind would feel when their French windows were wide open on a stormy night, watching the lightning ridicule the world for taking advantage of it’s tears.

“You’re drenched, and you’re going to get sick. How can you sit in the pouring rain?” I asked when I found them perched delicately on the windowsill, half their body already dripping.

“The rain is beautiful. Look!” Their excitement was endearing enough that there was no argument for me to stick my head out the window to look at the gray world around us.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just like to appreciate the underlying beauty of a storm before basking in the sunlight.”

I remember hoping they would speak about me with that same curiosity one day.

I don’t believe a purer love existed. I was completely infatuated with them, and for reasons beyond my control, they felt equally about me. It was obvious from the first time our eyes met. I watched, I couldn’t help it. They were mesmerizing, their eyes looking up at me with such innocence through bright, unadulteratedly joyous eyes. 

They saw beauty within me in things I thought impossible. When I or anyone else would hide in dismay at the summer storm raging in my chest, they gazed through those French windows, fascinated at how the light could paint my eyes so dramatically.

And even after all this time, the years bringing less and less surprises as they went, the love we felt for one another was still beautifully unexplainable. Perhaps it is shown through the way my hand always searched out for theirs in grocery stores because losing them even for a second frightened me to the core. Maybe it was the way they stared at me through those unfathomable eyes as if I was the only man that would truly ever know them.

Either way, we fit one another to the bone, a love so pure and fragile I would spend an eternity looking for them if they hadn’t stepped into my life. For all the darkness and cruelty I see, one look at them and the world melted down to an innocent and kind place.

So I knew tomorrow when I stood at the altar, waiting for them to enter both the room and a new step in our lives together, I held no doubt. I was going to spend the rest of my time on Earth in their arms.

I sat at the kitchen table, holding a pen with enough force to be suffocating, and stared at the blank page in front of me. For all the times that I’ve let scientific facts and statistics flow off my tongue without a care, I could not find the words that held enough weight to convey my love for them.

“Hey Spence?” They called for me from the doorway of our bedroom. I looked up to find them in a t-shirt of mine with a cheesy chemistry joke printed on it. Since the day I explained the punchline to them, they wear it every chance they get. Little, fuzzy sock clad feet slid across the floor over to me where I was stuck admiring.

“You coming to bed soon? Your side is getting cold,” they whispered the last part with the lips grazing the top of my head, resting their hands on my shoulders. Immediately the tension left my body, and I turn, the words flooded my brain.

“Uh, y-yeah. In a second. I just need to finish something.” I felt their smile before I looked up to see it, and God was it breathtaking.

“Okay, my love.” Even though my hand itched to start scribbling my undying love, I watched their descend back to our bed, turning around once more to smile at me over their shoulder. Once they were completely out of my sight, I snapped back to my unfinished vows.

‘The day I met you, I was fully consumed by my undeniable fascination and the need to know who you were, You’re unlike anyone I have ever known. You’re this curious, ever-seeking, ever-feeling person who believed the world was good. You loved me before you ever judged me, a kindness not many people possess. Your ultimate adoration for just being alive immersed itself around me and for every moment I’ve been with you, the world has slowly started to become brighter. You give me purpose, like lighting a lost flame I thought to dismiss years ago.

And in 40 years, I have no doubt I’ll be sitting on our porch, surrounded by a white picket fence and a domesticity I can only find with you. I’ll just watch our memories relive and unfold, but the best of all is that you’ll be there next to me, and I can’t imagine not looking at you with the same amount of love as I feel right now. I am unconditionally infatuated with you now, and forever.

Because it’s always been you, and it will always be you. God, I love you.’

During the night after we devoted ourselves to each other, I watched as they lied next to me, my breath grew unsteady as theirs evened out. I was captivated by their hair spreading softly across pillows that would never compare to how soothing it was to lay across their chest. The way their eyes stared up at me with familiar amazement that made my stomach swell with butterflies and my pulse jump.

They were absolutely breathtaking.

In most literature, rain was mainly used to portray a certain kind of sadness that made the world feel like it was coming to an end, but not now. Right here, laying in between silk sheets that sculpted their body as if they were their own french painting, rain meant devotion, adoration, love.

A kind of endearment I would never find within wet clothes and runny noses unless my lover was next to me basking in the storm.

I know it was impossible, we were indoors for Christ’s sake, but the drop of rain that hit my arm felt real. It wasn’t until my lover’s face dampened with their own pouring raindrops that I realized mine came from my own eyes.

I was quite literally hypnotized, not moving to wipe the tears running down cheeks that were pushed up from the wide, involuntary grin spread across my face. I could only fixate on them, the way they smiled back and the blush that rose to their cheeks. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

It was okay though, because they never looked away either, and reached up to wipe the teardrops I let fall carefree. I nuzzled into the palm of their hand like I couldn’t get enough, but the truth was their touch ignited a comfort that deeply resonated in me, and I would selfishly search out for it every chance I got.

I would pray for the sky to turn gray and rain to fall in sheets for the rest of my life.

____

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[bex-la-get]

A Second Chance (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Word count: 2175

Summary: While the hospital reels from the assassination attempt, Ethan gets his miracle. Sequel to What If...

Author’s Note: So @adiehardfan​​ asked if there would be a part 2 to What If and at the time, I wasn’t sure but this came to me the other day and I thought this would be the perfect sequel piece after I ripped your hearts out (sorry about that, by the way). Enjoy! 😘

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. Nor do I remember the specifics from Chapters 10/11 in OPH Book 2. Any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you.

Please, he pleaded silently. Let her live. We have so much lost time to catch up on. Please. Let. Her. Live.

Ethan watched Natalie breath, her chest moving slowly as it rose up and down. He could tell she was struggling, growing weaker by the moment; but he could also see that she was fighting it. Fighting to get oxygen to her lungs, fighting to make it until morning, fighting to stay alive. He brushed some loose hair behind her ear and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing and silently praying that the combined efforts of Edenbrook and Mass Ken would be enough to save her.

He didn’t sleep that night. Too concerned of what might happen if he closed his eyes, Ethan stayed awake through the whole night, watching Natalie’s breathing and monitoring her vitals. He briefly stepped out of the room to splash some water on his face and wipe away the stray tears that were still sliding down his cheeks but that was the farthest he would be away from her. He refused to leave the room otherwise.

At around 3am, Harper and Naveen arrived with a couple and a young man; Ethan could only assume these were Natalie’s parents and brother.

“Ethan,” Naveen said on the other side of the door, “Dr. Cusack’s family is here.

Ethan nodded, stepped out of the room, and quickly changed out of the hazmat suit to speak with them; he stayed close to the entrance, however, and kept an ear out for the systems monitoring Nat’s vitals. He didn’t want to miss anything crucial while out of the room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cusack, I’m Doctor Ramsey. It’s good to meet you, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

The Cusacks shook his extended hand and he turned to Natalie’s brother, greeting him as her mother, Julie, spoke. “Likewise, Doctor. Is there any update?” Her green eyes were filled with concern and worry and Ethan’s heart tightened.

“Not at the moment, I’m afraid. But we have a team working around the clock on a cure; some of the best doctors in the country are working to help your daughter,” Ethan answered.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Vic, as he had introduced himself, asked.

Naveen shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not; but thank you for offering.”

Vic’s shoulders deflated somewhat and his father wrapped an arm around him. “Thank you for watching over her, Doctor Ramsey,” Elias said, his voice quiet. 

Ethan nodded. “She would do the same for me; for any of us.”

Elias smiled sadly. “That’s just like my Nattie.”

Julie sniffled and gazed at her daughter through the window, her eyes wet with unshed tears; Harper laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we wait in my office? You’ll be comfortable there and it’s close by so we’ll know when there’s updates.” Julie nodded in agreement and the Cusack family quietly said their goodbyes, following Harper down the hall.

Naveen rested a reassuring hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “How are you doing, my boy?”

Ethan shook his head and swallowed back a sob. “Not good.”

His mentor gazed at him sadly. “I wish I could reassure that she would be okay, but I cannot in good conscience say such things. But I do want to believe them.”

Ethan nodded and sniffled. “Me too.” He looked back through the window where Natalie was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath. “I can’t lose her, Naveen,” he said, quietly. “I-- she’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t make it.”

Naveen squeezed his shoulder. “We have to believe she will make it, Ethan. Thinking otherwise will only drive us crazy.”

“I know; I just feel so useless. I can’t help with the cure and I can’t do anything for her in the meantime.” Ethan could feel the tears welling up again but he fought against them. Crying wouldn’t help anything right now.

“Being there for her in her hour of need is doing more than you can possibly imagine, Ethan. Trust me.” Naveen paused for a moment before speaking again. “Does she know how you feel?”

Ethan nodded solemnly. “I told her before she fell asleep. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. I should’ve told her a long time ago, from the moment I knew.”

“We all have things we wish we could have done differently or sooner. The important thing now is that she knows.” Naveen squeezed his shoulder again then stepped away. “Go. Be with her. We’ll let you know when there’s news.”

“Thank you, Naveen,” Ethan said, making his way back into the quarantine area. 

“Ethan,” Naveen said. Ethan turned to his mentor, finding a sad smile on his lips. “Assuming she makes it and they can make a cure, I hope you won’t let her go.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m never letting her go again,” he said, resolutely.

Naveen nodded and watched as Ethan once again dressed in the hazmat suit before returning to his place at Natalie’s side.

------------------------

It was nearing six am when several members from both the Edenbrook and Mass Ken teams appeared at the window of the hospital room. Ethan’s heart pounded at their appearance, trying not to let his fears get the better of him. Please be good news, please be good news.

“Well?” Ethan asked, his throat going dry.

Tobias looked to Elijah who grinned and held up a small vial in his hand before handing it to Baz. “We did it. We were able to synthesize a cure!”

Ethan barely held back a sob as he watched Baz and June suit up and join him in the room. “What about the EMT? Rafael?”

“He made it through the night,” Tobias confirmed. “He’s being administered his own dose as we speak.”

Ethan nodded, fighting tears. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. “All of you, thank you.”

“She would’ve done the same for any of us,” Elijah said, looking at his sleeping friend sadly. “I just hope we did it in time.”

Baz and June administered the dosage to Nat and Ethan swallowed hard. “Only time will tell.”

--------------------------

“Nat? Natalie. Can you hear me?”

Natalie’s brows furrowed as the familiar voice pulled her out of her deep sleep. 

“Natalie,” the voice said again. “Please Nat, wake up.”

She groaned and slowly blinked her eyes open, squinting through the bright lights of the room. She looked for the source of the voice to find him sitting next to her, a look of worry on his face. “Ethan?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Ethan released a sound that was a mix of a sob and a laugh. “Oh thank god,” he said. 

Her eyes adjusted to the room around her and she realized he wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit. Her eyes widened. “Ethan, you’re-- you look… normal. What--”

“Elijah and the joint teams synthesized a cure,” Ethan said, helping her move to a seated position in the bed. “You’re okay; the toxin is gone, completely.”

Nat took a shaky breath. “And Raf?”

“Also alive and okay, though he was in rough shape by the time his dosage was administered. It’ll take longer for him to recover but he will recover. You both will.”

Natalie felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Does that-- does that mean I can kiss you now?”

He gave her a watery smile and nodded. Without waiting another moment, Natalie pulled Ethan towards her and kissed him soundly. He cupped her face with his hands and returned her kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the tears slipping down both of their cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

She broke away to cough out a sob and buried her face into his shoulder. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head, letting his own tears fall freely. “I love you too,” she said through sobs. “I was so worried I wasn’t ever going to be able to tell you again.”

“So was I,” he sniffled. “I love you, Nat. I love you so much. I’m never going to let another day go by without telling you that.”

She looked up at him and wiped some tears away from his cheeks. “Us until the end of time, right?”

He smiled and nodded. “Until the end of time.” He sniffled again and placed another soft kiss on her lips. “Your parents and brother are here; they’ll want to see you. Are you up for visitors?”

She thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, let me go get them.” He placed one more kiss on her lips, this one lingering for a long moment before he broke away, kissed her forehead, then left the room. Nat adjusted herself in bed so she was sitting up fully then waited for her family to arrive.

Less than five minutes later, her mother practically burst into the room, making a beeline for her daughter. “Oh Nattie,” Julie said, when they locked eyes.

Unable to hold back the tears, Natalie began crying, falling into her mother’s tight embrace. Her brother and father quickly joined the hug, holding onto each other tightly, crying tears of relief and happiness that Natalie was okay. She was safe. She was alive.

Ethan stood outside of the hospital room, taking steadying breaths and trying to control the tears that kept slipping out. He was exhausted and was holding it together just enough so he wouldn’t collapse from relief. He sniffled and ran his hands through his hair, sending a silent thank you to the gods that listened to his previous pleadings.

“Ethan?” a voice said.

He turned to the source to find Tobias looking at him, an inscrutable look on his face. “Tobias, hi.”

“Are you okay?”

Ethan glanced into the hospital room where Nat was giving her family a watery smile and looked back at Tobias. “I am now. I--” he hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer to his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I-- you gave her-- me-- us a second chance. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how much that means to me. How grateful I am.”

Tobias smiled. “It was my honor to help, Ethan. Natalie’s a good doctor, and an even better person. This world is better with her in it. You’re better with her in it.”

Ethan’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tobias rested his hand on Ethan’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know our past has been rocky and this year has had its own struggles and difficulties; but I’ll always be around to help if you need it, Ethan. No rivalry or competition will ever outweigh our duty as doctors… or my loyalty to an old friend.”

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, feeling a twinge of fondness for his old friend and [former?] adversary. “Thank you. And the same stands for me.”

Tobias smiled again and he stepped away. “I have to get back to my own hospital and patients. But I’m glad to see she’s doing better.” He nodded respectfully to Ethan. “See you around, Ramsey.”

“See you around, Carrick.”

As Tobias disappeared around the corner, Ethan looked back through the window to find Natalie gazing at him, a fond smile on her lips. He returned her smile. “I love you,” he mouthed.

Her smile grew and she mouthed “I love you too” back to him. 

His heart thumped in his chest as he locked eyes with her for a long moment before her attention was called back to her parents. He stood outside the room for another moment debating on whether or not he should stay when a new voice caught his attention. “Are you doing okay?”

He looked to the source and smiled at Harper. He nodded. “Yeah; better than okay.”

She smiled. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” She looked him over and raised an eyebrow. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Ethan shook his head and Harper nodded knowingly, her lips pursed. “I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” she said, smirking. She stepped towards Nat’s room and gestured forward with her chin. “Go clean up; and maybe take a nap while you’re at it. Or at least get some coffee in you; I know you too well to think you’re going to sleep right now. I’ll keep an eye on Nat for you in the meantime.”

He looked down at his rumpled clothing and chuckled. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Thank you, Harper.”

She smiled. “I’m happy to help. And I’m happy to see you happy. It’s a good look for you.”

He chuckled. “I’m just glad I have a reason to be happy.”

“We all are.” She glanced at Nat and smiled. “She’s one of a kind, that one. You hold onto her.”

Ethan gazed back at Natalie and smiled. “I plan to.” Forever.

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[heyitsjay03]

Fighting for Tomorrow

AN: This is my first fanfiction I’ve ever posted on here and I’m a little nervous lol. I just hope you guys have as much fun reading this as I did writing this. 

Disclaimer: I do not own AOT and all rights go to the owners! 

Reiner x Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 8.3k words

TW: arranged marriage, blood/gore, swearing/adult language, mild sexual content

---------

You can read parts two, three, and four! Just tap on the number you want :)

   There’s a prolonged poke on my cheek, “Are you awake?”

   My eyes slowly open, wincing slightly at the sunlight fighting through my curtains. A black-haired, green-eyed little boy sits on my bed- face just centimeters from mine. There’s another poke. “Well? Are you?”

   “Eren,” I groan, rolling over in my bed and pulling the sheets up over my head. “How did you even get into my house?”

   “You leave your window unlocked every night,” he says simply, as if it were common knowledge. He’s not wrong… I can only imagine how many people know about my window. I shudder. Maybe I should start locking up more. 

   “Fine, but that doesn’t mean you can just… jump through it. What would your mother think?” 

   “She doesn’t care.”

   I roll back over and give him a hard stare before he slumps over. “I guess she does,” he mumbles, picking at the sheets on my bed. “But Mikasa’s with me so it’s not as bad.”

   “Where-?” I sit up, throwing the sheets off of me. “Did you bring Armin, too, Eren?” I ask exasperatedly as I tuck my arms close to my chest and search my room. 

   Eren nods, “They’re outside keeping watch.”

   “Keeping watch for who?”

   “For-”

   “Eren!” 

   The soft voice comes from just outside my window. We both turn towards it and watch as Mikasa’s face pops into the sill. 

   By the walls, how did I manage to end up babysitting these three maniacs? 

   “He’s coming!” Armin’s voice strains. I hurry to the window and see Armin giving a knee-up to Mikasa, his pale face slightly pink with exertion. 

   “Who’s coming?” I ask, turning to Eren.

   I don’t get a response. There’s someone’s footsteps crunching towards my front door. A single glance to the kids tells me they really, really don’t want to face whoever it is. I grip Mikasa under her arms and pull her through the window before snatching Armin’s collar and tugging him through the window. The two scramble to their feet- Armin taking longer than Mikasa- and hurry to Eren’s side. 

   There’s a pounding knock at my door, followed by a man yelling for me. Eren and Armin clutch my arms and slightly tuck their faces into the silk of my nightgown. Mikasa remains steady and calm- her grey eyes trained on the door. 

   The man steps back from the door, peering in the window just above my sink. I know his face all too well. It’s Tobias Walker. He searches the house, face pressed slightly against the glass.

   “What in the walls did you three do this time?” I mutter, hurrying to the front door. They remain at my side as I open the door. 

   Smiling warmly, I greet Tobias. “Hello Tobias,” I hum, “I wasn’t expecting you to visit until later on.”

   My fiancé forces a smile, staring down at the kids. “...I was… Just… looking for you four.”

   “Why?”

   Tobias takes off his cap, twisting it in his fists nervously. Slowly, he tears his eyes away from them. “These three have been pestering me at work again,” he mutters venomously. “Darling.” He says this sweetly and quickly- an afterthought, an attempt to curry favor for his side of the story. 

   Two can play at that game. “Really, Tobias? They’re just children- what can they possibly do that can distract my dedicated fiancé from his business?” 

    He stammers, running a hand across his forehead. He’s a mess. His tanned skin is slightly red, black hair slightly frayed and mussed. Sweat drips down his face, trailing his jawline. It’s a shame I didn’t know him before this whole ordeal. Maybe we would’ve come together on our own, who knows. 

   “__________, please,” he tries pleading with me before realizing the words that came out of his mouth. He stands up straighter, eyebrows and lips forced into straight lines. “I won’t be begging,” he mutters in an attempt to be firm. He stares down at the kids. “And they’re coming with me.”

   The small grips on my nightgown tighten. 

   “I’m sorry, Tobias,” I hum, rubbing the heads of each of the kids with a warm smile to each of them. My gaze turns back to the man in the doorway. “But there’s been some misunderstanding. Doctor Yeager had sent them to me. They brought me some of the stuff needed for the ceremony.”

   “I- We don’t need stuff for the ceremony-”

   “Are you rejecting the kindness of one of the town’s benefactors?”

   “Well, no-”

   “Did you want to spend extra money on the flowers and the arrangements?”

   “I don’t need charity-”

   A breathy laugh leaves my lips. “Tobias, you’re not thinking clearly. The Doctor had personally gone out of his way to tell me. He was on his way to work in Wall Sina when he stopped and told me he was sending stuff from his home to us. He didn’t even leave five minutes ago!” 

   It wasn’t entirely a lie. Doctor Yeager had told me of his business in another wall- the exact one was lost on me. I just wasn’t sure if he had left or not.

   Tobias gulps, eyeing me and then the kids. My hands find my hips and I tilt my head to the side slightly, “...now- how is it possible that they carried their packages all the way to the other side of town, pestered you, and then made it back across town within five minutes?”

   Tobias goes quiet, his mouth opening and closing like a trout. My eyebrow raises as I await his answer. His head twitches to the side and the grip on his cap grows tighter. “...I’m telling you-”

   “And I am telling you that you, in your infinite wisdom, are wrong. Now, I’m sure the factory is completely lost without you so I’d suggest getting a move on.” I push his chest slightly and close the door. The four of us strain our ears, listening to the tell-tale crunches in the dirt as he walks away from the house. I can hear him muttering, the fence slamming behind him. 

   Eren and Armin release their grips and sigh. Eren turns to look at me, eyes shining. I shake my head, “You’re not out of the clear yet, so you three go sit down and tell me what you were doing.”

   Eren stares dumbfounded at me, mouth slightly open. My eyebrow arches and he stands firmly in his spot. Armin grabs his arm, tugging him to the table. He practically throws Eren into a chair and takes another seat. Mikasa sits to Eren’s right, still silent and stoic.

   My arms cross over my chest as I stare at the lot of them. Mikasa’s fiddling with the red scarf around her neck and Armin doesn’t meet my gaze. Even Eren pretends to be interested in the grooves in the wood table in front of him. 

   “Well? What were you three doing in the factory? Haven’t I told you three to just leave it alone? It’s happening, whether any of us want it to or not.”

   “But it shouldn’t happen!” Eren erupts, slamming his palm to the table. My flower vase filled with wildflowers spins like a small dancer; stems arms stretched to a spotlight. The shaking of the vase echoes around the stillness of the kitchen. “He’s forcing you into a cage!”

   “He isn’t forcing me into anything, Eren,” I say quietly. “I made my choice.”

   “What were the options?” He snaps again, eyebrows drawn together to create fierce ridges that look out of place on a face so young. 

   I stay silent, focusing on keeping my breathing steady. I can feel my teeth biting down into the inside of my bottom lip, the tightness in my shoulders and back. Armin and Mikasa pull on Eren’s sleeves to pull him down into his chair. Eren shrugs them off, “He’s forcing you into something you don’t want- into a cage!”

   “Eren!” Armin hisses incredulously, his soft-blue eyes widening. “She’s an adult- you can’t talk to her like that!”

   “It’s okay, Armin,” I say softly, walking to the chair across from the three of them. “I should explain everything… Seeing as the three of you will probably find out one way or another.”

   Eren huffs, slamming himself back down against his chair. Their eyes remain fixated on me- each pair simultaneously gleaming with curiosity and boiling with rage. I groan softly, running a hand through my long, ________ hair. It catches on a few tangled naps. “I didn’t realise I was going to be explaining such a heavy topic so early in the morning,” I mutter, getting back up and walking to the cupboards. 

   “It’s past noon,” Mikasa states, earning an indignant ‘don’t say that!’ from Armin. 

   “Fantastic,” I breathe out, pulling the dusty, colored-glass bottle from the back of the cupboard. “Then I don’t feel so bad doing this.” I undo the stopper- a sweet smell wafting in the air behind the cork- and take a long swig. 

   Shuffling back to the table, I tuck the bottle back under my chair. “There’s no easy way to explain to three children,” I mumble, “But I know you’re all much brighter than your age. So… I’ll just start at the beginning,”

   “I was born in a small cabin in the woods of Wall Rose. My family were hunters and gatherers- we lived off the land like our ancestors before us. It was a… ‘simplistic’ type of living and I didn’t have the luxuries I have now but… It was honest living. We took from the land only what we needed and gave it back as best we could,”

   “There were people who looked down on us. Calling us… ‘out-dated’ and ‘backwards’. Maybe it was the way we dressed or how we lived or how we talked- whatever it was, they didn’t like us much... I got older and they had my little sister and I had started going to school in the village. I… I felt… it was awful- school. I was called awful things because of the way my family and I lived. I was an outcast and… So, I- ...I changed,”

   “I fixed my hair and bought makeup from the traders in the village. I mimicked the way my classmates talked and stopped going hunting with my father and sister. Eventually… Eventually I was accepted. I was a part of the group now,”

   “And I got even older and dreamed about leaving the village- to see what the other walls had in store and to leave behind the archaic ways of my family. That was when my family had their first run-in with Tobias. He wanted our land- to cultivate and grow grain for his factories. My family declined but he isn’t the type to take ‘no’ for an answer. He found out about my family’s money issues and… And he came to me. Tobias told me he knew and that he had a plan that would make everything go away.”

    I stop, my words catching in my throat. My hands turn about in the air before my finger taps against my lips in an attempt to coax my words out. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply.

   “I couldn’t just… let my family suffer- you know that, right?” I ask hopefully, “We were suffering. We were starving and my mother was weak and my father was sick- what else could I have done?” I was rambling now and I knew it. I run a hand through my hair, tears pricking the edges of my eyes. 

   “So I told them I had a plan to get us out of debt and out of suffering. Tobias has to marry me. When Tobias marries me, he will be in charge of the land and will assume the debt. He’ll pay the debt off with the profit from the factory and then he’ll let us have three-quarters of it while he takes me and a quarter of land to be his…”

   “Prize,” Mikasa finishes for me. 

   My eyes flick up to hers. The boys do the same, taken aback by her words. I couldn’t even scold her- she was right. I was a prize to be won and that’s exactly what happened. I was won. 

   Her steel-grey eyes are unwavering as she looks at me. It was difficult to read Mikasa but being here for this long has taught me a few things about her. And right now, she was staring at me in pity. 

   “...the deal was struck and I was taken here to Shiganshina. A few weeks after moving in, I got myself a job working for Doctor Yeager as his assistant and apprentice until the day when I can succeed him... And that is when I met you three.”

   Eren looks about ready to burst at the seams- jaw tight, teeth gritted, eyebrows drawn, fists clenched. I reach out and place a hand softly onto his, smiling warmly. “This was my choice, Eren,” I hum, “And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. It’s been planned for almost two years now and the ceremony’s tomorrow. After that… Everything will be taken care of- the debt, my family, the land…”   I sigh. “And I can’t lie and say it’s not a nice living that I have here. I have a home and running water and a warm bed and you three knuckleheads to make my day better.” 

   Armin turns a light shade of pink, smiling bashfully. Mikasa even cracks a small smile. But Eren…

   I sigh again and run a hand through my hair. “Eren, please understand. If you were in the same situation- if Doctor Yeager got sick and your mother was too tired to take care of herself. If you had to look after Mikasa on your own… There’s nothing you wouldn’t do in that situation.”

   Eren opens his mouth and then closes it, his hands finding his hair and tugging slightly on the ends. “It’s… It’s not... fair.”

   “You’re right,” I mumble, “It isn’t fair. I should be able to make my own way but… Eren, life isn’t fair.”

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   “Are you coming?” Eren yells, charging head-on into the crowd of market-goers. Mikasa hurries after him, weaving expertly through the bodies without hitting a single one.

   “We are!” I yell back with a smile, standing on my toes to see the two pop out on the other side of the crowd. Eren stumbles, falling to his knees. Mikasa stops almost immediately and reaches down to him, offering a hand. Eren gets to his feet on his own. Dusting his jeans, he looks up at Armin and I on the other side of the crowd. 

   “Miss Braus?” Armin calls softly, gripping my skirt as we elbow past the bodies in the square. It wouldn’t be this hard if I wasn’t cursed to standing only 160 centimeters. 

   “It’s __________, Armin,” I laugh, squeezing us between two very upset men arguing over the price of meat. “I’m only a few years older than you- you make it sound like I’m some school-teacher.”

   “Why did Mister Walker choose to help your family? If he had just waited, he could’ve bought the land from the bank when they-” he stops himself. 

   We push through to the other side of the crowd. Eren leads us on towards the grassy hills while Mikasa stays on his heels. I sigh, shaking my head. “I have a lot of theories but… None of them make much sense.”

   “...do you think he knew you before? Maybe he was a classmate or a family friend?”

   “I didn’t pay that much attention in school, Armin,” I laugh, “I taught myself a lot more from books than the village wanted a woman to learn.”

   They may have called us backwards but they were the ones focused on the forced submission of the townswomen. Sexist swine.

   “Well… If he did know you, maybe he likes you.”

   My head turns down to face him. His porcelain skin has managed to grow almost completely pink as he realises what he’s just said. Stammers of apologies come stuttering out of his lips as he hastily attempts to take back his words. I smile and shake my head, placing my lips to his golden hair. “You may be right, Armin. You always were bright.”

   “...do you think you could ever love him?”

   We trudge up the hill, breezes running between our legs and through our hair. Mikasa is already at the top, sitting down as she watches a breathless Eren climb up the grassy knoll. I place a hand on the sunhat on my head, securing it as the breeze teases it off my head. 

   Could I ever love him?

   I try to see myself standing in the doorway of our home. Holding a baby on my hip, my other hand grips a child's hand. Tobias walks up the street and grins as the child breaks away and runs to him. Tobias picks up the child and walks into the doorway, pressing his lips to mine. 

   It’s all so... unnatural. 

   Tobias wants roots. I want freedom. I could never be a housewife. I want excitement and passion and unpredictability. He wants me to… To be his little trophy he can take down and polish after a long day at work. Something he can flaunt at dinner parties and work gatherings. 

   I’ve debated this a lot these past two years- whether or not I could love him. And the answer was always the same. 

   “No, Armin. I could never love him.”

   I sit at the base of the tree, soaking up the sun. It’s not hot- just pleasantly warm. Eren’s attempting to climb said tree after managing to convince Mikasa that he won’t fall. Mikasa directs him on his foot placement but I can hear the scraping of the undersides of his shoes as he slips down the bark once again. Armin has fallen asleep on my lap- golden hair stretched out on the mesh fabric of my dress. There’s an illustrated book splayed out beside me that flutters between pages in the wind. Something Armin had gotten from his grandfather, I’m sure. Clouds roll lazily above us, white and pure. They don’t dare to touch the sun. They just float past it- allowing the warmth to uninterruptedly soak the ground beneath us. 

   ...I wish Sasha were here. 

   “__________!” Eren’s voice calls from above me. 

   I turn, seeing Eren swinging from a tree branch. A laugh leaves my lips as I see Mikasa’s head pop right next to his. “Are you two having fun?” Mikasa gives me a quick nod as Eren nods much more enthusiastically. “Well, search the tree quickly. You still have to go grab firewood for your mother.”

   “Aw, c’mon,” Eren huffs, “You can’t let us go one day without chores?”

   “Miss Carla is as much of my boss as Mister Grisha. If she says you need to get firewood, you’re getting firewood.”

   Eren sighs and stops swinging on the tree branch, returning to stand on the base. I can hear leaves shaking as they climb further up. A few break off the branches and float down into Armin’s hair. I pluck them out and let the wind take them from between my fingers. Inhaling the wildflower-smelling air, I seriously debate joining Armin in taking a nap. 

   “__________!” Eren screams. 

   My eyes shoot back open and I’m on my feet. “What is it? Eren? Mikasa? Are you hurt?”

   “The Scouts are back!” Eren yells. There’s more tree-branch-shaking. “They’re back! __________, can we go see them?”

   “We- You-” I stop and inhale deeply as my heart continues hammering against my chest. “You scared me!” I snap, arms crossing over my chest. 

   Eren- with twigs and leaves in his hair- appears at the base of the tree again. He jumps off, colliding to the ground with a thud as he lands on his side. Mikasa does the same, landing perfectly. Eren’s back on his feet in seconds, wiping his clothes of the dirt. “Well?” He asks, “Can we?”

   “We haven’t gathered our firewood,” Mikasa points out, pulling the twigs and leaves from his hair. “Your mother told us we needed to gather firewood.”

   “The firewood’s still gonna be here when we get back,” Eren says back, shooting Mikasa a look. “Please, __________? I swear I’ll get everything done.”

   Armin’s up now- woken up by the commotion. He rubs his eyes and sits up. “Eren’s not wrong. The firewood won’t go anywhere,” he mumbles sleepily. 

   Sighing, I roll my eyes. “You’re gonna get everything done?”

   “Yes, I swear.”

   “And you aren’t gonna forget about it?”

   “No.”

   “And you won’t have Mikasa do it for you?”

   “I don’t have Mikasa do everything for me!”

   “...Eren… She does it whether or not you ask.”

   “Fine. I won’t have Mikasa do it for me.”

   “...okay then,” I smile, holding out my hand for Eren and Mikasa to hold. “Let’s go see the Scouts.”

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   I wish I hadn’t said yes to this. As much as I admire them and wish to be them… The Scouts are a mess. Almost everyone is bloodied and each has that look in their eye- the blank stare so wide you can almost see the carnage replaying behind them. There’s bloodied bandages in the street, being pounded into the cobble by the horses. Groans of agony and wailing fill the street. Something deep in my stomach churns as a man with an arm missing holds a bloody Scouts cape in his hands. 

   There were nearly a hundred that left. 

   There can’t be more than twenty that came back.

   I can only wonder if it all is worth it. 

   Of course it is. What am I thinking? Pushing those beasts back, reclaiming the land that humanity used to populate and cultivate… It is worth it but… Damn, if it isn’t a high price to pay. 

   Eren jumps up and down to look over the people’s shoulders. Frustrated, he huffs and takes off further down the street. The rest of us follow. My hand wrapped in Armin’s, I let him lead me behind the crowd. Even as my hat flies away, I can’t take my eyes off the Scouts. 

   We come to a stop and Eren climbs up a stack of boxes. Mikasa and Armin do the same, sitting down beside Eren. I stand on the lowest box to see inside the wagon a pair of horses are pulling. 

   It’s bodies.

   Not dead ones, either. There are soldiers in there- sandwiched together and nearly screaming in pain. Blood coats every inch of the wagon. The bodies in the wagon wail for a medic, for help. 

   I feel myself pushing through the crowd, running for the wagon. “I can help!” I yell, “I can help!”

   A surly soldier turns to me, eyeing me venomously. “Who the hell are you?” 

   “I’m __________ Braus,” I answer, “I work for Doctor Yeager.”

   The soldier scoffs and shakes his head. “They’re going to Wall Maria-”

   “They’ll die before they get there!”

   I can feel the crowd’s eyes on us now. My breathing grows unsteady and rigid as I stare at the soldier. He’s tall- maybe it was his horse or maybe it was actually him but he towers over me either way. A bandage covers the side of his head and I can see blood seeping through. His eyes are a paled-brown and dirt coats his stubbled skin. 

   “What’s the issue here, Weinfeld?” A voice behind me asks. There’s a huff of air that goes down my back. I turn and face a brown stallion. My eyes trail even further to the man sitting on top of it. My blood grows still as I realize who it is.

   “C-Captain Erwin, I-”

   “If this woman wants to help tend our wounded, why are you stopping her?”

   “Well, she-”

   “She offered her services to help prevent us from losing even more soldiers. Let her help.”

   “Y… Yes, sir.”

   “Miss?”

   My eyes snap up to him. Blond hair, blue eyes. Broad shoulders and commanding height. Blood coats his emerald-green cape. I can see the insignia of the Scout Regiment sewn into the chest, even if it is filthy. 

   “Yes, sir?”

   “What do you need to help them?”

   My nerves fade away and I roll my sleeves. “I need more hands. And any medical supplies you can give me. Even shirts, capes- those can work for the time being, too.”

   The Captain nods and I hurry to catch up to the wagon. As it’s moving, I jump onto the back and swing my legs over the side. The smell of flesh and blood is putrid here. The blood has seeped into the wood- making it smell metallic and rotten. Flesh smells like it had been left out for days… I could only imagine that being the truth. 

   “Please, miss,” someone groans, “Please help me.” The chorus of damned souls begins again, even louder now. Bodies shift and turn to face the new ray of hope.

   I reach down, tearing off the layer of silk fabric beneath the mesh. Tying it around my face, running footsteps come up behind us. “Ma’am!” Someone calls, “The Captain said you needed help!”

   “Get in here,” I snap, taking off the moonstone ring around my finger and tucking it into my bra.

   Three men pull themselves into the wagon. One starts to heave as the smell hits his nose. “If you’re going to vomit, do it over the side and get someone else to replace you,” I state, “If you can’t handle the smell, you’re not gonna like what we do next.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   “Miss!” The man on the opposite side of the wagon calls, “The blood’s not stopping!”

   “Lift the stump up!” I yell back, “Make sure you keep it elevated.”

   I turn back to the man trembling in my hands. “Okay, what’s your name, soldier?”

   His chapped lips part slowly, a cough passing his lips before his words. “...Louis.”

   “Okay, Louis, you’re gonna be alright but I need to do something that’s not gonna be fun.” Louis nods slowly. “I’m gonna put this in your mouth for you to bite down on. It’s just a piece of fabric.” He nods again, opening his mouth. 

   I look around to the other men. One’s still holding up the bleeding stump of a man’s leg across the wagon, attempting to fashion some sort of holder for it. Another is wrapping bandages around a woman’s arm that dangles at an impossible angle. The last one lays a body down on the wagon floor and stands back up. 

   “You!” I yell, gesturing to the last man and waving him over. “I need you for something.”

   The man walks over the bodies to me, his black hair brushing into his steel eyes. “What is it?” he asks flatly. 

   “You’re going to hold him down by the shoulders while I pour this on his wound.”

   The man doesn’t say anything but positions himself at Louis’ shoulders, pressing down. The bottle in my hands was alcohol- something someone from the crowd offered. Pulling down the silk around my face, I unstopper the bottle with my teeth. Standing with a foot on either side of Louis, I look down at the man at his shoulders. “You ready?”

   The man nods once. 

   I lower myself onto Louis’ legs, peeling back his bloodied shirt. A two bleeding lines run along his stomach. An image of a Titan grows in my mind, reaching out ravenously at Louis. A few centimeters more and he would’ve been caught. They’re deep cuts and they look like they’ve been left exposed for far too long. I shake my head, pressing my weight down against his legs. It’s time. 

   The liquid flows out of the tipped glass, pouring into the crimson grooves in Louis’ skin. Muffled screams pour out of his lips and his legs buck up underneath me. Wincing, I continue pouring. Agonized screams manage to fight through the fabric in his mouth as his whole body spasms.

   I tilt the bottle back upright and force the cork back into it. Louis is still thrashing about, causing blood to gush out of the wound. “Hey, Louis, Louis,” I mumble, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. They’re squeezed shut and his head turns from left to right wildly. “Louis!” I yell, grabbing him by the chin. “If you want to live, you need to hold as still as possible- do you understand me? If you move too much, you’ll lose too much blood and you’ll die. So sit there and stay still.”

   Louis nods frantically, his chest still heaving. Sweat pours down his face and I take my skirt and rip it again. Dabbing the fabric against his forehead, I look up to the man at his shoulders. “You take over,” I state, handing him the piece of fabric. “I’m gonna make something and you’re gonna hold it down on him, okay?”

   The man nods once again. He doesn’t seem comfortable talking. Not that I would either, surrounded by the bleeding half-rotted bodies of my comrades.

   “Good,” I mutter, gripping the fabric that makes up my sleeves. Pulling the fabric one way as I pull my arm the opposite way, the fabric rips and I wad it up. I do the same with my other sleeve and lift Louis’ shirt back up again. I place the fabric against the wounds and look up to the dark-haired man. “Come here- you need to put pressure into this. Don’t let go, okay? Just keep putting pressure.”

   The man nods and I get to my feet to check on everyone else.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   There’s nothing else I can do with no proper supplies and I’m running out of fabric. My eyes drift down to my dress- or what’s left of it. It hangs around my legs a bloody, shredded mess that barely covers my upper thighs. 

   I can always buy another one. My eyes then turn to the lot of soldiers in the wagon. I can’t exactly replace these Scouts’ lives. 

   My eyes continue drifting until they land on each of the three men that helped me. The man holding the man’s stump- he’s Eld. The other one with the woman- Oluo.

   Eld hands me another soiled Scout cape and I hand him a less-soiled Scout cape. Leaning over the side of the wagon, I wring the cape in my hands. Sickly red liquid slicks down my hands and squelches down onto the passing cobblestone. The color of my skin is no longer visible- drowned out by the endless amounts of blood. 

   “Eld,” I mumble as I wring the cape dry. I’m hoping he can distract me from the cobblestone pavement I’m painting red. 

   “What’s it, __________?”

   “Who’s the other man?” I ask quietly, “The one with Louis?”

   Eld turns to look down the wagon before he laughs. “That’s Levi. Another one of us.”

   “He doesn’t talk much,” Oluo adds, “Don’t take it personally.”

   “I thought maybe it was… because of all this,” I smile crookedly and sit back down in the corner. The wagon tosses and jostles underneath us as we make our way to Wall Maria. “Maybe I’m just projecting. I’m certainly not as talkative as I usually am.”

   “You handled this well… All things considered,” Oluo huffs a laugh, “Ever thought about joining?”

   “You’re recruiting now?” Eld snaps, “Who in their right mind would want to join after seeing this?”

   Oluo shrugs, “Nobody in the Scouts are sane.”

   I clear my throat awkwardly and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Well… if you’re ever back in Shiganshina- I’d be more than happy to sit you down and teach you some medical basics. It could end up saving a life.”

   Eld and Oluo both bow their heads gratefully. My eyes dart to Levi, who still remains keeping pressure on Louis’ wounds. “You’re also welcome to join us, Levi,” I smile. 

   He says nothing but nods once more. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. 

   Maria’s walls tower over us in the sunlight- stone reflecting light down onto us. I get back to my feet, rubbing a hand across my forehead. Almost immediately, I cringe at the feeling of slickness now on my skin. 

   Throwing one leg over the side of the wagon, I prepare myself to jump. “Where are you going?” Eld asks, getting to his feet.

   “You’re almost to Wall Maria and there’s nothing else I can really do without supplies and equipment. All you three need to do is make sure that stump is elevated, pressure stays held on Louis and that you three get back to me in Shiganshina for those drinks.”

   “Why can’t you stay?” Oluo asks, gesturing to the bodies around him. “If something goes wrong-”

   “If something goes wrong, I’m sure the rest of your regiment have doctors waiting on the other side of Maria. ‘sides, I left my kids back there. There’s no telling what they’re up to without me.”

   “You have kid-”

   Something cracks against the pale-blue sky. Yellow and green lightning pierce the tranquility, striking down just beyond Wall Maria. It disappears as fast as it came- leaving only a trail of white smoke in the sky.   “What was that?” I mumble, stepping back into the wagon. “Was that lightning…?”

   Eld and Oluo are on their feet now, staring at the sky. I can see their hands gripping their ODM controllers. Eyes wide, mouths slightly open we stare at the Wall. My breath is caught deep in my throat as we wait. As we watch.

   The wind kicks up. The former sweetness of wildflowers in the air is now nauseatingly saccharine. It elbows the steam out of the way- and then we see it.

   A hand. On the wall. 

   Stone crumbles beneath the muscle. Paradoxically slowly and quickly, a skinless head lifts up behind the wall. 

   …that’s impossible. 

   I want to believe it’s impossible, believe it’s just a facade but as I’m staring and as I hear Eld and Oluo whispering, I know. 

   There’s a Titan towering over Wall Maria.

   I waste no more time. Throwing my leg over the wagon again, I jump. Eld is the first to react, screaming at me to get back on the wagon. 

   “My kids! My family!” I scream back, sprinting towards town. “I can’t leave them!”

  And I keep running. Elbows and bodies are thrown into my chest. I keep running. Eren. Mikasa. Armin. Carla. Even Tobias. Massive chunks of stone collide beside me and that’s when I know the wall has been torn through. 

   And I keep running. Blood in my ears, blood on my face, blood on my hands- it all seems to burn and throb. Colors blur together in the edges of my vision. All I need to focus on is getting to them.

   I can hear the screams and the cries and the wailing and the bones snapping. And I keep running. I don’t have time to look. 

   There is blood everywhere. I can smell it. 

   My eyes catch him- a black-haired boy running straight into the crowd and towards the wall. A girl runs after him. Another boy, with blond hair, stands rigid in his spot. 

   Their names rip out of my body. “Eren! Mikasa! Armin!”

   Over and over again, they shred my lungs as I push towards them. My arms wrap around Armin and I spin him around to face me. My eyes dart between his, brushing hair from his face.

   “Armin, where are they going?”

   There is no response. Just a blank stare.

   “Armin! Where are they going!” I’m screaming now, shaking him at his shoulders. 

   “...home.”

   A shaky breath leaves my lips. “You need to run, Armin,” I mutter, turning him towards Wall Maria. “Do you hear me? You run for that wall and you don’t look back.”

   Armin nods slowly and I keep running.

   I round the last corner and I freeze. A chunk of the wall sits atop the ruins of the Yaeger home. Dust clouds billow about and I can hear three voices screaming amongst themselves.

   My feet carry me there. “Carla! Mikasa! Eren! Grisha!”

   “__________!” Carla yells back as I stumble to a stop just before the remains of the house. 

   My eyes land on her- pinned down underneath a wooden beam and dirt painting her face. Her eyes are wide, staring up at me. I hear the wood groan and shiver. Eren and Mikasa strain as they try lifting the wood up. 

   “Help us!” Eren snaps at me. 

   I reach for the beam, fingernails digging into the wood as we all lift it up. It doesn’t budge. Once more, Mikasa and Eren and I plant our feet on the cobblestone and lift. 

   ...it’s no use.

   Even if we get this thing off her, Carla’s legs are crushed. We wouldn’t make it out. 

   “__________!” Carla’s yelling my name over and over. Her hand is gripping my leg, nails digging into my skin. “You have to listen to me- you have to leave me behind and take them! You have to survive- you have to leave me!"

   “No!” Eren screams, trying to lift the beam up again. “I’m not leaving you!”

   “Can’t you just listen to me for once in your life?!” Carla screams back, tears trailing down her face. “This is the last thing I’m asking you to do-!”

   Something looms in the distance. Stomps quake the ground underfoot- and they’re getting closer. A face slowly passes the remains of the town hall. Grotesque and smiling, the Titan’s face turns towards us. 

   “Carla,” I whisper, tears now streaming down my face. “I… I can’t leave…” I mutter, shaking my head as I lean down to lift the beam again. My whole body strains, screaming for relief, as I try to pry the beam off of her.

   “Hannes!”

   Looking over my shoulder, I watch as Hannes lands just in front of us. “Take the kids and get out of here!” Carla screams. 

   Hannes kneels and smiles. “That’s not our only option, Carla. I’m gonna kill that Titan and save all of you!” His arms come out in a flourish, brandishing his blades. He runs around the corner of the house for the Titan. A war cry leaves his lips and-

   He skids to a stop. His eyes trail up the height of the Titan. Even from this distance, I can see him tremble. He turns back, pushing his blades back into their holsters. 

   And he grabs Eren, tossing him over his shoulder. He tucks Mikasa’s body under his arm and he runs a few steps before stopping again. Turning to me, he screams, “Let’s go before it kills us all!”

   My eyes flick back down to Carla. Her black hair is stuck to her face. Sweat and tears and spit slick down her skin as she looks up at me with watering eyes. “Take care of them for me,” she whispers. “My daughter, please take care of them for me. You all have to survive- for me.”

   And I run.

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   “__________!” 

   My name buzzes around my ears but Eren, Mikasa, Hannes- they aren’t calling me.

   “__________!” 

   I turn around, searching for the voice as I continue running behind Hannes. My eyes dart to each movement. A woman clutching the remains of a man to her body. A child crying. A man being lifted into the sky. Another man running straight towards me, carrying a briefcase. 

   “Tobias!” I yell. Hannes stops in his tracks, whirling around to face me. Tobias stumbles to a stop. Panting, he wipes his brow with his forearm.

   “I need to tell you something,” he wheezes, shoving the briefcase into my hands. “In case I don’t get to, it’s all in here. Everything is in here.”

   “Tobias, what are you talking about?”

   His eyes are darting everywhere- from my face to Hannes and the kids to my dress and hands. “I haven’t been honest with you,” he says quickly, taking me by the shoulders. “I’ve kept so much from you that you should know about-”

   “Just tell me!” I snap, searching his eyes. 

   Tobias sighs and nods quickly, “But only if we have some shelter.” His hand slips down my arm, taking my hand and pulling me towards a watchtower. Hannes and the kids follow behind us. 

   “__________,” Tobias states, turning to face me again and gripping my shoulders. “You have to understand- I didn’t know what else I could do. I just wanted what I wanted and I-”

   There’s a terrible crash above us. I can feel myself being pushed back and colliding with the cobblestone. Mikasa calls out to me- cut short by the ringing in my ears. 

   Hannes appears above me, waving a hand in my face and shouting something. It’s all so… far-away. Distant. Blinking, I try to focus on the shifting mimics of Hannes before they all merge together. 

   Searing pain runs up and down my legs as I feel myself being dragged backwards. I look down and see the pile of bricks, splintered wood, and stone that was once the watchtower. And a single arm underneath it all, covered in a suit’s sleeve. 

   My eyes widen and my arms bring the briefcase to my chest tighter. “...is that…?”

   Hannes nods, picking me up under my arms and setting me back on my feet. “I’m sorry but we have to go,” he mumbles. “We have to get them out of here.”

   Tears start to pour from my eyes as I stare at the bloody hand reaching out from under the debris. ...he saved me instead of saving himself.

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   “Please, sir, I can’t leave it behind-”

   “I’m already allowing you three on before anyone else,” the soldier snarls, “I’m not letting you break any more rules.”

   Hannes sighs, scratching the back of his neck. My nail taps against the leather briefcase as I watch Eren and Mikasa blankly stare into the water below. “Take them,” I blurt. “I’ll stay.”

   The kids turn around to face me, eyes wide with horror. Tears stream down Eren's face as his fist tightens at his side. “No! I’m not losing you, too!”

   “Don’t go,” Mikasa whispers, eyes pleading.

   I kneel down, putting the briefcase down next to me. Gently, I place a hand on their faces and rub my thumb against their skin. “I will find you,” I whisper, “You have to trust me. I will find you. You stay where you are until I find you, okay?”

   Mikasa nods once but I can feel her lean into my touch. Eren has my wrist, gripping it tightly. “Please, __________,” he pleads through gritted teeth, “Please don’t go.”

   I press my lips to his forehead and whisper against his skin. “I will find you, Eren.”

   Pulling away, I press my lips to Mikasa’s forehead. I stand and pick up the briefcase. “They’re ready now,” I whisper, forcing the mass of tears in my throat down. “Please take them.”

   The soldier takes Mikasa’s hand and reaches for Eren. Eren elbows past him, charging for me. Screaming, he flails about as the soldier throws him over his shoulder and walks up the gangplank. “__________!” He screams. “You can’t leave me! I can’t lose you, too! Please!” 

   I bite down on my tongue. Tears stream down my face as I watch them get set down on the ferry. Mikasa holds onto Eren’s arm as he thrashes in her grip. The soldier runs back down and yells for the ferry to take off. 

   Hannes places a hand on my shoulder. I shake violently, sobbing now as the ferry pulls away. Eren finally breaks free and runs to the edge but it’s too late. 

   I clamp a hand over my mouth, preventing the agonized screams from resounding around the ferry station. I can see Mikasa coming up behind Eren. Someone else pushes towards them.

   Armin. 

   He made it. They all made it. They’re safe. My kids are safe.

   Hannes clears his throat behind me. I turn and push my face into his chest, sobbing and clutching at his bloodied uniform. “They made it, Hannes,” I say in strangled sobs. “They’re okay.”

   I can feel him press my head further into his chest. “And you’re next.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   “You can’t close the gate!” I scream, clutching the briefcase to my chest. “There are people out there! Just wait-!”

   “If we don’t close it now, the handful of lives out there will be nothing compared to how many we’ll lose in here!” The soldier snaps. 

   Hannes growls, lunging forward and grabbing the soldier by the collar. “That’s no reason to leave these people to die!” 

   Footsteps run up behind me. Two men, more soldiers, arrive in the doorway. Panting, one points outside, “They’re coming! You have to close the gate, now!” 

   “Lower the gate at once!” 

   “No!” I run forward and feel arms wrap around me, holding me back. One of the soldiers hurries and grabs Hannes, pulling him off the soldier. My body thrashes in its hold, “You can’t do this! You’re going to kill them all-!”

   The walls begin to shake around us intermittently- heavy footsteps. They begin to pick up speed, thundering around us. Getting closer and closer, I can feel it in my head, in my heart- the hammering, the footsteps. 

   It all happens much slower than it did. Hannes wrestles out of the soldier’s grip and grabs my waist. The Titan collides with the wall, sending us into the air amongst the brick and stone of the gate. I can feel us being jerked a different way in the sky- the sound whirring and hissing of air surrounding us. 

   My arms around his neck, I peek over Hannes’ shoulder. A gaping hole is in the wall where the gate used to be. A Titan with patches of dense armor stands at the hole, breathing deeply. 

   “__________,” Hannes says as we land on the side of a building. “I’m taking you to Wall Rose. Wall Maria is gone. It’s over.”

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   The candlelight flickers in the wind, taunting death before regaining strength. My fingers run along the blood-splattered leather. The gold trim slides under my fingertips. I can feel my stomach churn as I press the buttons in. 

   What was so secret he kept it from me for so long?

   The briefcase flies open. Inside is a mess of paper- most pages are typed but some are handwritten. I can clearly see Tobias’ neat, small handwriting on the pages. I scoot closer to the candle, taking a sheet of paper and reading it in the light. 

   __________,

     I am writing this knowing in almost-full confidence that I am no longer alive and I died before I had the chance to explain myself. I hope you don’t think of me as less of a person after this but if you do, I cannot say that I blame you.

   My name is not Tobias Walker. I was born Fynn Kayserling in Dauper.

   I stop, rereading that sentence over and over again. Dauper was my village. Tobias- Fynn was from… my village? 

   You don’t remember that name at all, I’m sure. I wasn’t very outgoing and the walls suited me as better friends than other students. But there was one girl that stood out. It was you. You were kind and gentle- but would never stand down from a fight. It was amazing, watch you grow up. An ever-changing fluctuation of fight and flow.

   I was too much of a coward to be up-front with you. Watching others court you and how happily you responded to them, I knew I wasn’t good enough. I left at seventeen to Shiganshina and started my business.

   I returned a year later and found that you, that your family had been suffering. Your mother being weak and your father being ill while you and your sister were starving- I wanted to just give you the money. An anonymous donation. But there was another, more selfish part of me that wanted something in return.

   I tried to fight it. It was so twisted even I was disgusted by myself. But my cowardice, my weakness, my greed got the better of me and I made that offer to you. It wasn’t fair of me to and I wish I would have changed my mind- so I did this.

   Assuming I’m dead, inside this briefcase you will find my will. I’ll spare you from reading the legal nonsense. I’ve given you everything. The factory, the houses, the money, the land. It’s all yours to do what you will. There’s more than enough to pay off your debts and to build your family a better home.

   There was a reason I never told you what the plans for the wedding were. There was never going to be a wedding. I was going to give you the money and the land and tell you how I feel before letting you choose your path. It was selfish of me to take you away for two years. I couldn’t live with taking you away for much more.

   I hope you can forgive me, __________. I was selfish and cruel and I know it wasn’t love. Something more sinister- not love. I tried to be better, I hope you know.

    Yours always,

       Fynn

   I blankly stare at the letter, so many thoughts buzzing through my head that I feel dizzy. My eyes dart to the typed papers. ‘Final Will and Testament of Fynn Kayserling’ is typed on the first page. 

   He… he lived in Dauper and he was a classmate. He knew me. My stomach churns at the words ‘wanted something in return’. My eyes turn to the open window, to the stars above. Tears stream unyieldingly d0wn my face as I take a deep breath in. As I exhale, the wind takes my breath into an icy grip and turns it white. 

   I need to find them. Before anything else, I need to find Armin and Mikasa and Eren. And when I do, I’ll make sure they’re taken care of and then I’ll take care of my family. 

   I’ll never forgive him but... tomorrow. 

   The search starts tomorrow.

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You can read parts two, three, and four! Just tap on the number you want :) 

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 1 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer meets a girl he can't get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there. 

A/N: This work deals with a lot of dark themes. There will be imperfect characters, and they will make mistakes. If you are sensitive, please read each chapter's content warnings carefully and alert me if I am missing any.

This work is undergoing heavy edits. Thank you for your patience!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: NSFW, 18+ Series Content Warnings: Adults w/ Age Difference (10yr), heavy petting, drinking Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it's an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it's a chance to escape themselves. I wasn't sure which I was more of that night. All I knew was that I was ready for something, anything to break the monotony.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for a while. I let myself get lost in the crowd of other regrettable people, and I allowed my body to move on instinct, to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, as evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone were to ask, I had just turned 21. But, truthfully, I still had another year to go before then.

The strangest part about it was that I wasn't usually the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. At least, not anymore. But something about the last year had made me stir crazy in a way I couldn't explain.

I could've thought harder about it; I could've found a reason. But I didn't want to.

So, I said, fuck it! Everything happens for a reason, right?

The thought perfectly coincided with a pair of pensive eyes that caught my attention through the sea of people I was surrounded by. A man somehow unlike the others was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought that it was strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, I thought, he must have come with someone else.

But the way he was looking at me told me that, in the very least, he probably wasn't there with a  woman. At least, I'd hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I was stopped by a familiar tapping on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the suddenly relatively empty stage, and not before long she was begging me to join her on it.

I'd never been the best dancer, but I figured it was as good a way as any other to try to get a cute guy's attention. After all, that's what you do in a club, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, by the time I gracelessly clambered onto the stage, he'd  already moved from his previous position.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'Maybe he hadn't really been looking at me after all.'

Rather than sulking over the loss, I focused on the music again. I swayed my hips to the beat and closed my eyes. I let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else's would. Not just anyone, though. Someone... different. Someone who might almost make me feel like they'd earned it.

I wondered if that strange man could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time in a relatively short period of time, I finally spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew it was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies and blistering heat. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience.

Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter and gave a brief, respectful wave to the bartender. Despite not breaking my gaze, I felt the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

I'd caught someone's attention. I didn't look, though. Not yet.

"Gin and tonic, please," I called when the bartender finally made his way over to me. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn't looking at me.

"Are you checking me out?" I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music.

His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, "U-uh, no. No, I'm not."

"Oh," I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. "That's too bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and a small smile broke across his face as he asked, "Is it?"

"Well... Yeah," I laughed.

The way we locked eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. When he looked away from my eyes, it felt less like admitting defeat and more like taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter to open my chest up for a better view.

"Can you see it well enough?" I teased with a slow gesture down the sash. I couldn't tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip before holding the drink with my hand over the top. I might have been young, but I wasn't trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

"Happy birthday."

His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned burned. I hoped he didn't notice how flustered such an innocent thing made me, but I had a feeling he did.

"How old are you now?" he followed up, and I realized that I didn't really want him to know. Not the truth, anyway. Still, something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

"A year older than the last."

It wasn't a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar. The somewhat unwelcome result was pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. But thankfully, when he reached out, he did so respectfully. His grip on my arm was gentle, but enough to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

"Thanks," I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. "I'm not used to wearing heels."

He seemed so comfortable despite the chaos. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

"What's your name?" I asked, and he was more than happy to respond.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn't seem to want to brag about it. He'd just announced it like it was a deeply ingrained aspect of his identity.

"Doctor? You seem pretty young for that," I playfully noted. Not that I was bothered by the prospect of an older man. I sipped on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification, and his eyes continued to flit back to my lips every couple of syllables.

"Well, if you're talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I'm 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn't be too young at all."

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. It was... kind of endearing.

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued to clarify, "But I'm not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology."

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling quite intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor's explained why he was so observant.

Something told me he didn't need to be told he was impressive.

"What about you? What's your name?" he finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name.

"(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately. Not yet."

"(Y/n)," he smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, "It's a nice name."

Uncomfortable talking about myself in light of the foregoing, I opted for a different topic.

"You don't seem like this is your first time in a club."

"Yeah, it's not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of... everywhere," he chuckled.

When he raised his glass to his lips, I noticed that the distinct lack of color to his. I didn't mention it. There were so many reasons someone would prefer water, assuming that's what it was, including the basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

"What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?"

I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn't get the answer. At the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm and yanking me away from the bar.

"Hey there beautiful, why'd you leave the dance floor?"

I didn't even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night.

"Because I don't want to fucking dance with you," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could while seeing nothing but white-hot rage. 

I could see Spencer's demeanor change, like he was about to do something. I shot him a warning glance that this was not his fight, and was pleasantly surprised that he'd respected it. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town.

"Come on, don't be like that," the man barked.

I pulled my arm away. Half of my drink sloshed onto the sticky floor below, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to be drinking it now, anyway.

"I said no," I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. "And don't fucking touch me!"

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer's much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around my waist as he stepped between me and the man and hurriedly guided me away from the guy and to a nearby table. As soon as I could reach it, I climbed onto a chair at the high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to raise in welts from his nails.

"What a fucking dick!" I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer's very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like time stopped when he looked at me. Like the earth had halted in its tracks. My perception of the otherwise energetic music seemed to slow down, and the sounds of the crowd drowned away. I wasn't able to focus on anything other than the pounding of my heart and that tried to break through bone cages to find him.

'God, I must be drunk.'

"Hey, are you okay?" he repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality.

With a simple nod, I was suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had caused the moment to happen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Thanks."

"Does that happen to you often?" he asked with a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him.

"Unfortunately. Most guys don't like being told they aren't your type. Especially if they aren't used to it."

"I wouldn't know," Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, "I'm pretty used to it."

A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He moved his hand, and I hated to admit that I'd already missed the warmth of it.

"Well, I don't know why you're used to it. I think you're pretty cute."

The statement was fueled by the alcohol, but it was still true. He wasn't joking about being used to a lack of desire. Seconds after I'd complimented him, he shifted uncomfortably. I tried not to read too far into it. I hoped it was how he would've responded to anyone. 

"Thanks..." he started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren't touching me. "But I feel like an asshole now."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled at the strange response to a compliment.

"Why?"

"I uh, I lied to you earlier."

My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Oh? To which question?"

He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke.

"The... first one you asked."

I couldn't help but laugh. All of the air in my lungs was quickly drained by his absolutely endearing honesty. The way he just had to admit that he had been checking me out, as if I didn't already know.

"You are absolutely adorable, Spencer Reid."

He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

"Come here," I instructed.

When he didn't listen, I reached my fingers out to grab his forearm and proceeded to tug him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between beautiful eyes and his lips that parted softly. I heard his breath come faster the closer I came.

Without moving away, he asked, "What are you doing?"

While wondering if it was possible for him to do anything without being charming, I tightened my grip on his arm and looked up at him with the most lustful look I could muster.

"Well, I guess I'm going to kiss you. I hope that's alright."

"Why?" he asked.

An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him. He didn't seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped my lips at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because, as it turned out, he wasn't just cute and smart, he was an incredibly talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee and increased my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine.

Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

"Was that a good enough reason?" I asked.

Instead of using words, he just kissed me again in response, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was more than happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

"Come outside with me," I begged. 

He seemed not to have expected any invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded and stepped back enough to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren't practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation.

Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn't actually all that interested and decided to ditch me? That would be embarrassing.

"Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How's it going?!" A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers.

It wasn't one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. A very drunk and very excited acquaintance. I finally let go of Spencer's hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over.

I stayed at a  modest distance as I called back, "Hey, how's it going, John?"

"Goin' pretty fucking great," he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours.

"Sounds like it."

"So, how's 20 treating you so far?"

Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club.

So, without thinking, I responded, "Pretty fucking great."

To Spencer's credit, he didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second to realize what I had just admitted.

Fuck.

I was too scared to turn around. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to address it, and he wasn't the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked.

I grimaced to John, who just burst out laughing before yelling, "Oooh, jailbait got busted!"

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted back, "I'm not jailbait, you dick!"

Following the boy I actually wanted to be with, I tried not to give up hope yet. In a twisted sort of way, I was actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was definitely about to receive. Seconds after we'd turned the corner into the small alley, he had me backed against a wall.

"What the fuck was that?!" his voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling.

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing at his attempts to be scary when his voice was still cracking. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued his ranting.

"You're only twenty?! You can't be here!"

"Well, actually, we're in an alley, which I'm totally allowed to be in."

He did not appreciate my humor.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?"

He looked so delectable when he was angry, I wasn't sure how he'd expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression.

"What are you, a cop?"

I honestly wasn't anticipating a genuine response, so when he responded, "An FBI special agent, actually," all I could think was, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, (y/n)!" he yelled back, taking a step back when my arms immediately fell from their defensive position.

"That's so cool!" I answered with equal enthusiasm, which he still, clearly, did not like.

"What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!"

"I mean, I think it's pretty cool."

"I could have you arrested! I should have you arrested!"

The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin.

"You gonna cuff me, Special Agent?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he continued to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to maintain the gap.

"Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now."

Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. 

"Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me," his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. "It's not going to work," he warned.

I didn't believe him. I could also tell that, despite the words, he did not want me to stop.

"How am I distracting you, Special Agent Dr. Reid?"

He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn't stop himself from falling for it.

"Is my proximity distracting you?"

I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

"N-No, that's not—"

I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" I asked.

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

"You do," I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent.

I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked.

"Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club..." the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. "You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone... "

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn't want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps.

"Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I'll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I'm fine with either."

"My pair, or my place?" he asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn't closed the deal yet.

"So you're considering it?"

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer. Close enough to me that I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn't look down yet, but I was pretty sure what I'd find bulging between his legs.

"I-I... I don't know."

An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer one. He obeyed their call.

"I'm a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I'm assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I'm certain you still have on you."

I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

"I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not... coming back with you for..."

He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought.

"And yeah, I figured you were young but... I'm ten years older than you."

"And?" I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down.

Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, "I don't want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won't be fully developed for at least another five years!"

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection.

With an innocent smile, I whispered, "Dr. Reid, I don't think you're the one taking advantage here."

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, "Do you have a hotel room?"

Giggling, I nodded.

"I guess I'll call that Uber now."

————————————————— 

| Part 2 |

[zodiyack]

Worse Things Than Hell

Requested by @cai-neki​: Hello there! I just found your blog uwu. Am kinda ran out of Shelby!reader to read so yeah just want to thank ya for lovely writings. May I ask for a Sister!reader to the whole Shelby clan. Angst and some unexpected character death (maybe the reader or someone), an operation gone south or rescue op. Whatever may comfortable to you. Thankk you in advance. ^-^

Pairing: Shelby & Gray Family + Shelby!Female!Reader

Warnings: Death, swearing, angst, me not proofreading

Words: 994

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @peakysputain​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @thewarriorprincessxo​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

“Help her!” Tommy screamed at the nurses while Ada smoothed her younger sister’s hair back. She blinked away the tears as she tended to Y/n, trying as hard as she could to push through it and be grateful that nothing majorly bad had happened yet.

The nurse rushed to Y/n and lifted the cloth covering her torso. Her eyes widened at the sight before she let go of it and ran off in a panic, murmuring things under her breath incoherently. She returned with another nurse who began to push the family aside.

“No!” Polly shoved back, fighting to see her niece. She ignored the nurses’ pleading ”Ma’am”s and ran to Y/n, cradling her face and brushing her thumbs over her skin. “Y/n? Y/n, dear, please talk to me.”

The woman in the bed could only lie still and breathe. Her eyes drifted to her Aunt’s face and a stray tear slid down her cheek. Polly smiled softly and wiped it away.

“Pol. We...we need to give the doctor’s some space. Y/n will be alive and healthy when we come back. She’s...she’s a strong girl.” C’mon.” Tommy didn’t believe a thing he was saying, but it seemed to get Polly to do as he told her, so he was willing to pretend. Even for a second.

Polly nodded and rose slowly, leaning over Y/n and kissing her forehead gently. She paced to the door slowly, but stopped to glare at Tommy and give him a warning she meant from the heart. “If you’re lying to me, Thomas...” Her bottom lip trembled as her brows knitted. “I will show you worse things than hell.”

Her heels clacked through the halls until they faded into silence. Tommy looked apologetically at the nurses before turning to the rest of his family and nodding for them to leave as well. He stood by the door, watching as his cousin and each of his siblings bid Y/n goodbye.

Ada did just as her aunt did and placed a tender kiss upon her little sister’s forehead, Finn giving her the same sympathetic smirk and kissing her cheek. Arthur combed his hands over his hair, flattening it with a heavy sigh. He kneeled next to her bed and opened his mouth to speak. However, before any words could leave his parted lips, the tears started streaming.

John knelt beside Arthur and smacked his shoulder lightly. They both nodded and sat in the silence, thinking of what to say only to wipe away snot and tears with their sleeves. Michael crept up behind them and placed a hand on both their shoulders. They rose slowly, giving Y/n one last look before leaving.

Michael took his turn to kneel, taking his cousin’s hand and kissing it softly. “Please fight, Y/n. I believe in you.” He pressed his forehead against her unmoving fist before kissing it once more and setting it beside her again. Inhaling sharply, he staggered towards the door, blinking away tears.

Tommy waited to move to his sister’s bedside until Michael was fully out the door. He was the most successful with keeping a calm exterior, but it was only held up with false beliefs; lies he told himself to feel more sane- more serene than how he’d initially react.

He cupped his sister’s face, swallowing thickly yet keeping his expression blank. His thumb brushed over her cheek, “Don’t let me be wrong, Y/n/n.”

It was just a simple bullet wound. A shot that hit her in the chest. Had it been anywhere else, the Shelbys wouldn’t have brought Y/n to the hospital. They could’ve cared for it on their own. However, that wasn’t the case. The bullet was too close to her heart. Any wrong moves and it’d be flatline before they knew it.

Y/n was dead.

The hospital had the same result they would’ve had if they decided to do it on their own. Tommy was the first to be notified; and thank god for that. When he called a family meeting, everyone was cheering with the possibility of great news, perhaps Y/n was all better and would be standing with her older brother, a smile on both their faces.

But...when they entered the room to find it Y/n-less and Thomas holding a frown as his wall of steel crumbled bit by bit. John stared at his brother with red eyes, his mouth agape, as the realization hit him. “No- Tom-” He hugged Finn close to him. Arthur found interest in the floor, Michael rushing in after him and doing the same. Polly ran in next, and all hell broke loose.

She looked at John and Finn, then Arthur and Michael; all four avoided her eyes while swallowing to prevent the floods threatening to escape their eyes. Then, so fast her neck should’ve snapped, she turned to Tommy and stomped towards him. She gripped his color and pursed her lips.

“Tell me it’s not true.” He looked at her with sorrow and empathy, but no words left his mouth. Pol slapped him. “You fucking lied to me. You lied to me, Thomas! She’s dead, isn’t she.” Too caught up in the furry to wipe them away, the tears pushed past the gates of all five’s eyes. “You told me she’d be okay!”

Polly continued hitting Thomas, sliding down to his knees and crying into him heavily. He held her up as much as he could until she stood up and slapped his hands away. “You-you lied to me. And now? Now I’ll give you hell, Tom, I’ll give you fucking hell.”

She stomped out of the room, the four boys following behind quietly. Ada finally rushed in, confused by the crowd leaving the room. Then it hit her. Just as hard as she hit her brother.

Thomas caught her arms as they both broke down. Tommy held Ada as she cried into his chest, him crying into her hair, holding her tightly. “You bastard, Tom. She didn’t deserve this...”

[jamespotterthefirst]

The Viper (AU: Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1.5 K Warning: Cursing. Mentions of s e x Summary: Detective Ramsey is a step closer to capturing a notorious criminal. If only Miss Allende, a key witness, would cooperate.

Author’s Note: I am an idiot because the beautiful @beastlyinstrument sent me this AU prompt and I didn't know I was to write a fic. Anyway, once I caught on, I got right to work on this lol. Thank you so much for the prompt! Thank you immensely to @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

When Ethan awoke that morning, he couldn't possibly predict he'd be punching Declan Nash square in the jaw. It was a long standing fantasy of his and finally, in the crowded, smoke-filled bar, Ethan had found a good enough excuse to do it. One minute, the lecherous pig was forcing his company on the visibly distressed blonde, the next Ethan was shoving him away and punching him with such spectacular force that Nash flew back into a storm of glasses, bottles, and furniture.

Ethan also never imagined his hand, red and swollen from the satisfying impact against Nash's leering face, would be tended to in a desolate dressing room by the loveliest woman he had ever set eyes on. Then again, his mind would require an exceptional measure of talent to invent the perfect arch of her brows, the graceful slope of her nose, the lush swell of her lips. And those eyes— almond-shaped, bright, and the most captivating shade of green imaginable.

Alluring green eyes that were currently meeting his, sending his pulse into an elated flutter.

“All better,” she informed him in that caress of a voice.

Something about the spark in her eyes as she watched him put in a comfortable and flirtatious lull, so much unlike his usual self. The same warm ease had blossomed in his chest when his eyes met hers from across the bar only minutes ago.

“Are you certain you're not a doctor, Miss…”

“Allende,” she supplied, red lips curling into a coy smile. “And no doctors here, just years of experience cleaning up messes. Though if they all looked as handsome as you, I wouldn't mind patching them up.”

She punctuated the heady little pronouncement with a wink that almost made his breath hitch. Ethan's good hand twitched at his side just as she moved away to a vanity. All he could do was watch as she placed herself in front of the lighted mirror, reapplying her lipstick with skilled precision.

“So what brings you here, Detective Ramsey? Don't tell me you just stopped by to defend my honor from the likes of Declan Nash.”

“Though an honorable pursuit, that's not the reason for my visit,” he said, their eyes meeting through the mirror. “I'm here to investigate the Kenmore bank robbery from two nights ago.”

Miss Allende hummed in acknowledgement but added nothing more.

“A reliable source claimed I could come here to find all the information I needed about the Viper.”

She raised her perfectly shaped brows at him.

“You think the Viper is a regular here?”

“It's what I'm here to find out.”

There was a pause in which she realized his intent. To his surprise, she laughed.

“And you think I'm the one who's going to rat the Viper out?”

When Ethan said nothing, only held her gaze steadily, she laughed even more still. This time, Ethan could hear an edge to the sound, something akin to fear.

“I'm not that keen on making enemies, Detective.”

In the silence that followed, she carefully brushed the platinum blonde curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. Those green eyes remained fixed on her reflection, and something told him she was studiously avoiding his eye. His instinct told him she was afraid, despite how masterfully she tried to hide it under the flirtatious veil. To his astonishment, his stomach clenched unpleasantly, the urge to protect her tightening his jaw.

Before he could think of a tactful way to continue his questioning, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of the black dress clinging to her skin. “Now, if that was everything, Detective Ramsey, I really must be getting back to the bar. I'm due on stage in less than ten minutes.”

Ethan intercepted her before he could stop himself as she moved to the door.

“Please, Miss Allende—”

“Lilac.”

“What?”

“My name. You can call me Lilac.”

“That's—”

Beautiful.

He had never heard anything like it.

“Lilac. Anything you might know about the criminal known as the Viper will be of great help.”

Lilac paused, studying his expression for any trustworthiness she could cling on to. Ethan gazed back, acutely aware of how close their faces were in the silence. Something slipped in her guarded expression, revealing a small hint of vulnerability.

At last, she sighed.

“I can't,” she said in a quiet voice. “I'm not—”

“I will protect you.”

Lilac startled at that, as though she had seldom heard the words before. She swallowed, her gaze holding his as she considered his offer, something heavy and tangible pressing into the small space that separated them.

“You offering to be my bodyguard, Detective?” she asked in a sultry voice, the words dripping from her lips like honey. She added a coquettish smile for good measure, leaving no doubt that the mask was securely back into place. “I accept, but you don't need the job title to press me against a wall with your body.”

Ethan had no hope of pushing his point as a crimson nail traced the outline of his jaw. The slow, lazy line made his breath hitch, his mind racing with thoughts of her tight little body flush against his.

Fuck the wall.

He could bend her over that vanity, forcing her to look at him through the mirror as she whimpered his name.

Lilac shifted closer to him still, lips parted as her finger descended down his neck. The intent in her gaze told him she wanted the same thing. Ethan leaned in to capture her lips but something in the mirror caught his attention and made him pause.

Lilac blinked at him, befuddled by his sudden stony expression.

“What?”

Ethan said nothing, observing the stain on the skin of her back. It was insignificant, otherwise imperceptible if not by the slight shift in the fabric of her dress.

Yet, there it was, as present as any hard evidence he might find.

“You missed a spot.”

Lilac stepped away from him, puzzled.

“What are—”

“Tar is notoriously difficult to get off the skin, isn't it, Miss Allende?” His voice grew icier with every word. “But you knew that. Hell, you knew that two nights ago when you slipped on the Kenmore rooftop during the chase.”

“Fuck!” the masked figure had hissed as they hit the black substance coating part of the roof.

She continued to back away. “I don't know what—”

“Tell me, Miss Allende, did you research Kenmore before you decided to strike?”

“You're—”

“Did you know the rooftops were under construction before you led us up there in your hasty little escape attempt?”

Lilac finally halted her steps, keeping her eyes trained on Ethan.

Something shifted in her expression, like a mask falling to the floor.

Then, she smiled wickedly at Ethan.

“Very good, Detective Ramsey. Maybe you are as good as they say you are.”

There was a pronounced silence, steely blue eyes boring into effervescent green ones. In a blinding motion, they both moved—Ethan to restrain, Lilac to evade.

Their bodies were a flurry of limbs moving to strike or to defend. The furniture in the small dressing stood no chance against their skill, which Ethan was surprised to find Lilac possessed. She moved with admirable grace and precision for someone wearing stilettos and a confining, skin-tight dress. It didn't stop her from aiming a high kick at his head, which Ethan barely dodged.

“You're under arrest,” he grunted when he pushed her against a wall.

Lilac laughed in his face, her crimson lips only inches from his.

“You're cute when you're confident, Ramsey.”

In a swift movement, she freed her body from his hold, light and unassailable like the waters of a raging river.

More swirls of movement as they struck, blocked, and kicked, each paired with a breathless grunt or swear. At last, just as his technique descended into sloppiness, Ethan managed to press her against the wooden tiles of the floor. His hands pinned her wrists above her head, his knees digging securely against her hips.

“How did you know?” she asked between pants, still donning a devious smile despite her position. “That this is my favorite position to be in?”

Ethan stiffened as he held her, unable to look away from the rise and fall of her chest. It struck him then how fighting her was not unlike fucking her, just how they wanted only minutes ago. Before he could reign his thoughts in, she freed her legs, hitched them on his hips, and reversed their positions with trained strength and agility.

“Or maybe me on top is better?” she asked thoughtfully.

Ethan grunted, moving to free himself from her grasp, but she was surprisingly strong.

“It's a shame you're a damn good detective,” she continued. “We would've had so much fun together.”

As Ethan unsuccessfully tried to free himself, he saw Lilac's hands delve into her blonde curls until she removed what he now knew to be a wig. A downpour of glossy, dark hair fell past her shoulders, reminiscent of the dark braid he thought he saw in the darkness on the night of the chase. Even struggling and breathless as he was, his traitorous mind couldn't help but recognize how much lovelier she looked with dark hair.

“You'll never get away, Viper.”

Lilac laughed out loud at the use of the moniker, which felt so ill fitted.

“Even as talented as you are, I'm afraid you don't have all the facts yet.” She pressed a hot, languid kiss to his neck before using his own handcuffs to bind him to a nearby pipe. “But something tells me you'll get there soon enough.”

With one last charming smile, she rearranged her dark hair, hoisted herself onto the window, and vanished into the night.

_________________________

Author's Note: Y'all I don't know what this was lol. Thank you so much for reading this! It was so much fun!

A few notes:

The next chapter of my OH3 AU is almost done. Yay!

I'm almost caught up with replies and reading all the fics I missed out on the week I was gone. Double yay!

And (not to jinx myself) but I might finally sit my butt down to complete the next chapter of the Picta series (ages later oops)

Thank you everyone for being here, despite it being almost a month the OPH ended :( Love you guys!

*tags in a reblog