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spilledkauffie · 3 years

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Still Having Nightmares

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: nightmares, trauma conversations, fluff A/N: MY HEART IS FUCKING BROKEN!!! Do you hear!? All because of this gif set— spoilers!

Song inspo: Nightmares - All Time Low

You squeezed your eyes closed, trying not to let the tears fall. But they weren’t for you— from outside the door, down the hall, and into the living room, you heard the soft mumbling. The desperate “no’s” and the heavy breathing. Rolling over in bed, you placed your hand where he often began the night, right next to you. Knowing he liked to fight this struggles alone, you methodically bit at the inside of your lip, furrowing your brows.

However, when you heard the static of metal tension, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Sitting up, you tossed the covers aside. Taking a moment to calm yourself, you quickly wiped the tears off your cheeks and took a deep breath, wanting to be in the best state to help him. Opening the bedroom door you stepped out into the hallway gently. Attempting to make your footsteps as light as possible, you made your way to the living room doorway. Bucky was laying on the opposite side of the apartment’s room from you.

Watching him toss and turn, sometimes jolt, was difficult, but you always tried to think of how best to help him if you could. As you debated waking him up to end the night terror, something did that for you- hearing him yell your name he completely sat up. You blinked back some tears, hating that you knew his nightmares forced him to see himself losing more than he already had.

“God-” he exhaled as if he had been forced to hold his breath for five minutes, it was a painful first few breaths. Shoving his hands through his hair, he set his elbows on his knees and tried to steady his breathing, he clearly hadn’t seen you yet, “shit,” you heard him say in a broken voice, though you couldn’t see them, you knew there were tears from the way he sniffled with an inhale every other breath.

You shifted your weight onto the opposite foot, accidentally catching his attention.

“Hey,” he suddenly said as if nothing had happened, quickly turning his face away from you, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, trying to get rid of any proof of tears. Clearing his throat he exhaled, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Tilting your head with a heavy sorrow that he just wanted to push everything aside, you reached for the light switch.

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, before looking down, surprised at his tone, “no,” he said softer, looking back up at you, “can we leave it off? Please?”

“Yeah,” you answered hoarsely, feeling a tightness in your own throat, “of course, baby.”

Walking over to where he was, you settled on the floor, sitting next to him, facing his direction. There was just enough light from the apartment windows for you two to see each other in dim lights streaming in. He tried again to subtly brush away any tear stains, while you joined him. Pushing the top of his wrist against his lip, he dropped his hand, and finally turned to you.

“Did I-” he swallowed, you saw the tension in his jaw, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you whispered, raising a hand to fluff back some fallen strands of his messy hair.

“Really?” he perked an eyebrow, “then why are you awake?”

You hold your breath trying to think of an excuse, but you’d rather say nothing than lie to him again.

“I didn’t mean to leave tonight, I just-” he quirked the corner of his lips, trying to find the right words, “I’m not used to it, but I didn’t want to leave- I just-”

“I know,” you assured him, free hand touching his forearm, calmly stroking his chilled skin.

He dipped his head shaking it, before giving a disappointed laugh, “you know I thought I was over this,” he admitted, your hand still brushing soothingly through his hair as he stared straight ahead, you swore you could see him thinking of another time.

“Tell me about it?”

He pressed his lips together, debating if he wanted to say more, so you let the quiet come between the two of you, and that was okay. Time was needed and you were more than willing to wait for him.

“You know sometimes I can see myself, at different times, and I just keep thinking- when I see that kid, signing up for the army, he looks at me,” he smiled for a second, but it faded faster than it came on, “he had no idea what he was signing up for.” Looking down to the metal replacing his arm, Bucky nodded to himself, blaming himself for it all.

“Victims never do,” you said, “because it’s not their fault.”

“Victim?” He scoffed, raising his eyebrows in disbelief at you, “have you seen my count-”

“Bucky, what they did to you-”

“But what I did to others-” he started.

“What they did to you,” you repeated, more firmly, stopping him from interrupting you, he waited for your next words, “what they did was cruel and monstrous, but that doesn’t mean you are.” Bucky tilted his head, “you signed up because you’re a brave soldier, what came next was out of your control, but now, you’re back on the path you first started.”

His grey blue eyes were fixed on you when you finished, “tell me about tonight’s nightmare?”

He was quiet again, so you pressed your hand against the middle of his chest, covering his dog tags, before you curled your fingers around the metal and glanced down to study them in your palm. Rubbing your thumb over the raised letters- one tag spelling out his name the other simply saying “Winter Soldier,” you bit the corner of your lip. Bucky never took his gaze off you, studying you studying the tags.

After a moment of silence, he leaned in closer, slipping his hand against the side of your neck, fingertips pushing into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck, while he brought his mouth to the opposite side. You tightened your hand around his dog tags as his skin brushed against your knuckles. With the way his chest was already rising and falling and the hum of his moan against your neck, you almost got lost in it. Slowly moving his other hand up your thigh, to your hip, you felt the metal, smooth and cold as ever. Closing your eyes, you focussed for a moment on his hot desperate kisses, his lips felt so good against you, but you knew what he was doing.

“Bucky-” you said softly, but seriously, knowing what you needed to do.

“Mhmm?” he hummed, lips ghosting against you as he waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he pulled back to look at you, his hand still caressing the nape of your neck gently.

You stared at him, amazed at how well he was trained to shift from emotion to emotion or just hide them altogether. It seemed wrong that there was so much pain and hurt in you form sympathy when he was the one actually fighting through it. As you stayed silent, his gaze fell to your parted lips. Bucky took his opportunity and met your mouth with a deeply passionate kiss, when you hardly responded he paused the kiss, lips still touching yours as he spoke.

“What is it?” he asked, caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much,” you took a deep breath, placing your hand on top of his and bringing it away from your cheek setting your interlaced hands in your lap, looking back to him, “but that won’t make them go away,” you stated eyebrows knitted together, shaking your head softly, “I need you to talk to me,” you stroked his jawline with your thumb, still holding his hand with your other, and speaking as gently as you possibly could, “so we can work this out together, I want to help you, I want you to be able to stay a whole night with me.”

Taking his hand off your thigh, you heard the metal adjust as he shifted his weight onto it.

“Alright, in my nightmares. . .I keep hurting you,” his words broke the silence, “different ways, I tell myself it’s not me, it’s that shadow I used to be, but all the same in the end.”

Listening carefully you placed a soft kiss to the cooled skin of his shoulder, where the scars met metal, encouraging him to continue with gentle stroking motions of your fingertips on the back of his hand.

“Every time. . .I’m in a place from my past, but you’re there,” he confessed, tightening his grip around your hand, “and you die, all because of me.”

“You’d never hurt me.”

“But I did...I do,” tears were returning and he didn’t understand; the one happiness in his life was being twisted by his past and his mind, he remembered certain things, others a blur and now past and present were blending. . .

“James,” you brought him to face you with your hand against his cheek, “you’d never hurt me.”

“I’m just-” he said cautiously.

“Bucky,” you said almost disappointed he’d question himself on this.

“I’m just scared I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from hurting you,” he confessed in a louder voice than intended, making you jerk back, but keeping your hand in his helped ground him, “I’m sorry,” he said, calming himself down.

You could see the tears falling even if he didn’t want you to see them.

“There’s no chance of that happening,” you pressed your forehead against his, “I know you, Bucky, you love me.”

“But you’ve seen it, if- if someone knows those words- with that book- they reset me and I can’t-”

You heard him exhale, heavy with pain and hurt and panic. His chest began to rapidly rise and fall.

“Bucky, Darling,” you moved yourself closer and brought your arms around him, to which he responded by wrapping his around your frame, pulling you even closer, and burying his face against your neck, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Feeling his hot tears against your neck, and his erratic breathing, you tilted your head up, trying not to cry yourself. Stroking across the back of his bare shoulders, you softly combed your fingers through his hair, embracing him against you. It wasn’t easy for him to show this much emotion and you could sense that, staggering breath and long periods of tension, as if he was trying to hold it all back. Feeling him tighten his hug and squeeze his eyes closed, you just held him to let him know it was okay.

“We’ll get through this, I promise,” you whispered, “no one is ever coming near you with that book ever again, and if they do. . . now they’ll have to get through me first.”

Pulling away from you just enough to press his forehead back against yours he smiled softly, staying there for a moment, “how’d you get so tough, huh?”

“I live with a fighter,” you smiled back, “he’s taught me to survive just about anything,” he gave a small laugh with his smile spreading, “so together,” you stole a kiss, “I know we’re unstoppable.”

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dienamights · 3 years

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A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 11

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 11 - This Venerable One Wants His Family to be Happy

"Yes, it's me!" Madam Chen sobbed, "But I didn't write this spiritual tablet! How could I curse my child? I—"

"You wouldn't have written it while you were awake, but not necessarily while you were asleep."

Chu Wanning said. He raised his hand, picked up the spiritual tablet, spiritual energy pouring out of his palm. Suddenly, a distant and piercing scream erupted from the spiritual tablet, followed by a stream of blood gurgling out of it.

The sharp gleam in Chu Wanning's eyes was bitterly cold, and he harshly said: "The arrogance of this creature; it dares to make trouble!"

Because of the great spiritual power in his palm, the writing on the tablet was forced to retreat little by little amid the screams, becoming fainter until it finally disappeared completely. Chu Wanning's slender and cold white fingers clenched and the whole tablet shattered!!

The Chen family looked stunned from behind him. Not just the Chen family, even Shi Mei was stunned.

He couldn't help sighing: "That's amazing."

Mo Ran also couldn't help but sigh inside; he really was so powerful.

Chu Waning turned his handsome and clear face sideways. There was no expression on his face, only a few spots of blood splashed on the side of his cheek. He raised his hand and carefully examined the bloodstains remaining on his fingertips. He said to the Chen family: "All of you will stay in the courtyard today, don't go anywhere."

At this point, none of them dared disobey and they quickly agreed: "Okay! Okay! Whatever you say!"

Chu Wanning strode out of the temple, unconcerned with wiping away the blood on his face. He gestured at Madam Chen: "Especially you, don't fall asleep. To keep that thing out of your body, even if you get tired, you need to stay awake."

"Yes. . . yes yes!" Madam Chen replied repeatedly. With tears in her tears, she asked in disbelief, "Daoist Master, my son. . . is. . . is he alright?"

"He's fine for now."

Madam Chen was startled: "For now? Not always? Then, how can I save my son's life?"

Chu Wanning said: "Catch the demon."

Mrs. Chen was very anxious and couldn't help but be a little rude. She couldn't care less about being polite and asked urgently: "When does the Daoist master plan to catch it?"

"Immediately."

Chu Wanning said. He glanced at the Chen family and asked: "Who knows where the red coffin was dug? Come and lead the way."

The eldest son’s daughter-in-law was named Yao. Even though she was a woman, she was tall and looked somewhat good-looking Although her face was filled with fear, she was calmer than the others. She spoke up: "My late husband and I picked out the land. I know the location. I'll lead you there."

The three of them followed Chen Yao all the way north and soon arrived at the land the Chen family had bought.

Martial law had been set up there, and there are no one around. The dark hills were overgrown with trees, not a single sound of insects or birds singing.

Climbing up the mountainside, the view widened over the scene. Chen Yao said: "The three Daoist masters are here."

The place where the red coffin was dug out still had a tombstone stuck over it. Mo Ran laughed: "What's this broken stone supposed to be used for? It looks like an amateur put it there. Move it."

Chen Yao was a little flustered: "The gentleman in the town said that the evil creature is being suppressed by it and can't get out."

Mo Ran chuckled: "He must be really capable."

". . ." Chen Yao said, "Move, move, move!"

Chu Wanning remarked icily: "No need." After he said that, he raised his hand, and golden light glowed from his fingertips. Tianwen listened to his command and appeared in his palm. As soon as he flicked the willow vine, the headstone instantly shattered into pieces! Chu Wanning walked over expressionlessly. He stood on the pile of ruins, raised his palm again, and said in a deep voice: "What are you doing hiding in there? Get up!"

There was a strange noise underneath the earth, and suddenly, a 12-foot-high thick wooden coffin broke out of the ground. The sand and mud rained down and dust was flying everywhere.

Shi Mei exclaimed in surprise: "This coffin is surrounded by such evil energy!"

Chu Wanning said: "Stand back."

After that, with a backhand draw, Tianwen slashed across the welded red coffin. Golden sparks shot in all directions. After a few moments of silence, the coffin lid exploded with a bang. The billowing smoke dispersed and the thing inside it was revealed.

Lying in the coffin was a naked man with a straight nose and a handsome face. If it weren't for his pale skin, he would look like he was simply sleeping.

Mo Ran's eyes flicked down to what was under the man's waist: covering his eyes and said: "Oh, don't wear skimpy pants, you skunk."

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Chen Yao cried out: "Husband!" She moved forward to rush towards the coffin. Chu Wanning stretched out his hand to stop her. He raised an eyebrow and asked: "This is your husband?"

"Yes! It's my husband!" Chen Yao was devastated. "Why would he be here? He was already buried in the ancestral grave. He was also wearing much nicer funeral clothes. How could he. . ."

Halfway through speaking, the woman began to weep, pounding her chest, "How could this happen! How tragic - so awful! Husband. . . Husband!!"

Shi Mei sighed: "Madam Chen, please keep it together."

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran didn't pay attention to the crying woman. Chu Wanning was not good at comforting people, while Mo Burning was totally compassionless. They stared at the body in the coffin.

Since Mo Ran had lived through this in a previous life, nothing unfolding was a surprise to him, but he still needed to put on an appearance, so he touched his chin thoughtfully: "Shizun, something's wrong with the corpse."

Chu Wanning: "I know."

". . ."

What he had said was exactly what Chu Wanning had said during this conversation in his previous life. In this life, he wanted to use it to shock Chu Wanning. He did well, and yet he only threw out a simple "I know" as a result.

Shouldn't a shizun encourage his disciple to speak his mind and give him praise and reward??

Mo Ran pretended that he hadn't heard him say "I know", and continued: "This corpse has no signs of decay. It's been more than half a month since the accident. Based on the current climate, it should have festered and rotted. A layer of fluids should have built up in the coffin. That's the first strange thing."

Chu Wanning gave him a cold glare with a look of "Are you done fooling around?": ". . ."

"Secondly." Mo Ran was unmoved, continuing to recite Chu Wanning's words from the previous life to solve the puzzle. "Before the coffin was opened, the evil energy around the red coffin was dense, but after it was opened, it dissipated. And there's a minimal evil aura around the corpse, which is also very abnormal."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Thirdly, did you find that from the moment the coffin was opened, there was a sweet smell in the air?"

The scent was so delicate, if you don't pay attention, you wouldn't notice it at all. When Mo Ran pointed it out, Shi Mei and Chen Yao realized that there really was a faint sweetness in the air.

Shi Mei: "Indeed."

Chen Yao's face changed when she smelled it, "This scent. . ."

Shi Mei: "Madam Chen, what's the matter?"

Chen Yao’s scared voice changed: "This scent is my mother-in-law's hundred butterfly fragrance powder!"

No one spoke for a while. The prophetic sign in the ancestral hall that read "Master Yang, Chen Sunshi" appeared in front of him again.

Shi Mei asked: ". . . Could Madam Chen really have done this?"

Mo Ran: "It doesn't look like that."

Chu Wanning: "No."

The two spoke almost at the same time and glanced at each other after speaking. Chu Wanning's face didn't waver: "You speak."

Mo Ran said nonchalantly: "As far as I know, the Chen family made a fortune and relied on the old lady's hundred butterfly fragrance powder. Although the powder's formula is a secret, the finished product isn't difficult to get. Five or six of ten girls in Caidie Town use this fragrance. Not only that, but we investigated before we came here. Mr. Chen himself seems to like his mother's butterfly fragrance powder very much, and he often mixes it in his bathwater so it’s not strange that he has this smell on his body, the strange thing is. . ."

He said, turning his head again to the naked man in the coffin.

"This person has been dead for half a month, and this fragrance smells like it was just applied. Am I right, Shizun?"

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Just praise me if I'm right."

Chu Wanning: "Mmm."

Mo Ran laughed: "What a waste of words."

He didn't have a chance to laugh again. Suddenly, his robe flew to the side, Chu Wanning pulled him back a few feet, the golden light of Tianwen in his hand was shining, dancing like flames.

"Watch out."

The smell of the butterfly fragrance powder in the air suddenly grew stronger. As the scent drifted away, a white mist appeared between the grass and trees, which began to diffuse at an alarming speed. Instantly, it turned the entire mountainside into a sea of mist, and all of a sudden, he couldn't even see the hand in front of his face!

Mo Ran's heart lurched.

An illusionary world appeared.

"Ah!!!" In the thick fog, the first thing that rang out was Chen Yao's screams, "Daoist Master, help—"

Before she finished the last word, everything went silent.

Chu Wanning's fingertips lit up with a blue gleam, and he slapped a tracking spell onto Mo Ran's forehead: "Be careful, I'll check it out."

After he spoke, he followed the voice and quickly disappeared into the thick fog.

Mo Ran touched his forehead and chuckled in a low voice: "Well, even the position of the spell is exactly the same as in my previous life. Chu Wanning, you really haven't changed a bit."

The fog came quickly and dispersed just as fast. It didn't take long for the fog to disappear without a trace. However, the scene in front of him was even more surprising than the fog. Mo Ran was really shocked, at least he was in his last life.

After the fog cleared, the originally desolate and overgrown mountainside had disappeared.

Instead, there was a vast and elegant garden, pavilions, waterfalls, curved corridors, rocky gardens and jade trees, and pebble paths as far as the eye could see.

Mo Ran took a look at the surroundings and immediately wanted to roll around in joy.

This rogue hooligan spent all day thinking about this illusion. In his previous life, they were similarly lost in it. First, Mo Ran ran into Shi Mei, and under the compulsion of the illusion, he kissed the other for the first and only time in his life.

It's a pity that Shi Mei was terribly frightened when it happened. He let go of Mo Ran, turned and ran away. He wasn't given the chance to take a second bite of the swan before it was taken off his plate, which was really unfortunate.

After the illusion was broken, Shi Mei never brought it up. The kiss in the illusion was treated as if it hadn't happened, and no one mentioned it again. Sometimes when he dreamt at night, Mo Ran wondered if he was obsessing too deeply over something he imagined.

But whether he imagined it or not, Mo Ran licked his lips. He thought this time he definitely wouldn't let Shi Mei run away from him that easy! One kiss wasn't enough!

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan

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binniedeactivated · 3 years

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𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦

[ m.list ]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

𝐖/𝐂 | 4k

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

POC = person of color

a/n; should this be a ff?

adriana didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. her dirty thoughts never stopped ever since he walked into her kindergarten classroom that one morning. with his sleek parted blonde hair, tall physique and lush pink lips she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him day in and day out. she had a job to do of course. teach the children, take care of the children and make sure each and every one of them were safe.

but myla rose’s father looked nothing like any man she had ever seen before. and it was a pity that his ring finger was occupied. that made her attraction to him even more difficult at the school’s open house.

adriana greeted every parent who stopped inside her classroom, guiding them to their child’s work display and giving short reviews of their performance in class. she was an excellent teacher. one of the school’s favorite in fact and every child loved her. the parents were always pleased with her enthusiastic attitude and compassion for their child. and this was evident especially when myla came running to hug her legs at the door.

“Hi ms. A!”.

in awe, adriana hugs her gratefully. “hey myla!”.

she glances up and with a warm smile the man takes her hand. “good evening, I’m choi yeonjun. myla’s dad”.

adriana smiles back a little harder than normal but she tried her best to conceal it. to her demise though, yeonjun didn’t come with just his beloved daughter.

“this is my wife, leah. our eldest son daniel. and this little guy right here--“.

yeonjun pauses for a moment to squat next to the baby stroller that his wife was pushing. he lifted the top of it a little, revealing the small one year old child who was currently dressed in a brown furry onesie with a dog ear hood. he sucks cutely on his blue pacifier glancing upwards at his father in wonder and being immediately surprised by the splashes of color around the classroom. he looked just like yeonjun.

“this is our youngest son logan”.

adriana smiles and coos at the younger child, “aww he is adorable. myla why didn’t you tell me about your little brother?”. she directs to the small girl with a pink ribbon wrapped around her ponytail. she rolls her eyes.

“because he’s annoying”. she says with more attitude than she ever showed in class. adriana laughs.

“nice to meet you leah. and hey daniel”. she greeted the eldest. he looked to be at least 8 years old. not very far from myla. he waves shyly, burying his face into his father’s chest. how lucky leah was, to have a family with yeonjun. as a single woman, dealing with families was always hard. it’s just what adriana wanted especially at this stage of her life.

“well, first things first myla is a pleasure to have in my class. she is always doing her work diligently like I ask and she’s always the first one to answer questions when it’s time”.

yeonjun nods in approval rubbing his daughter’s back as they were then guided to myla’s work display. he was here for his daughter he had to remember that. especially when his eyes kept slipping below adriana’s waist as she walked. but it was something about the way she walked. she walked like she wanted to be seen. as if she were inviting yeonjun’s eyes to admire her every curve. nevertheless he snaps his eyes back up whenever she turned around.

“and right here is myla’s art work, her math work, and her reading caterpillar. as you can see she really loves watercolors. her math work is outstanding. she grasps every concept I teach. and her reading caterpillar--eh it can be longer”. she playfully laughs. she tried to make the conversation as general as possible but with leah on her phone pretending as if she had no care in the world adriana’s only focus was on yeonjun who, didn’t hesitate to give an unforgiving stare into her eyes every time she talked.

adriana was an afro-latina beauty. black spiral curls dropping just above her mid back, deep set brown eyes, and full sensuous lips that anyone wanted to kiss with just one glance. and yeonjun took advantage of admiring her every chance he got.

“and um,” she fidgeted. “for each book she reads she gets a segment added onto to her caterpillar. the first student to become a butterfly wins a prize”.

“you hear that myla? don’t you want a prize?”. yeonjun cooed holding her hand. she nods excitedly. “yes!”.

“you have to start reading more okay? see look, your caterpillar is short”. yeonjun pointed at the green bulletin board. “can you buy me more books daddy?”. she asks in the soft voice that she knew would touch his heart.

“you already have enough stuff myla”. daniel chimed in, annoyed. wanting nothing more than to go home and play his play-station already.

“hey! you have stuff too”.

“you’re always asking for the most”.

“so what! daddy will buy it for me”.

“that doesn’t mean you have to ask all the time”.

“but--”.

“guys. enough. we’re not at home we’re at an open house”. yeonjun settled. all the while leah just stood there just as annoyed as them. she could’ve helped yeonjun calm the kids down but she didn’t. she didn’t even seem interested in myla’s work nor her progress. much less wanting to be there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,”. yeonjun apologized. “my kids are spoiled”.

adriana chuckles. “it’s alright I understand”.

“so how are myla’s grades? is she getting along with the kids okay? I know she can probably be a little chatty”.

“oh myla’s grades are amazing. she’s great with the other kids, rather a leader. she’s only chatty when I allow it”.

yeonjun hums in approval. “good job baby”. he coos to her. he pays his attention back to adriana though. “she loves you. she always comes home with stories about what game you played with them or what you taught them that day”.

“oh really?”.

yeonjun nods. “yeah she does. you’re a phenomenal teacher. thank you for taking good care of her”.

“thank you yeonjun. it’s no problem I love these kids like they’re my own”. adriana spoke, sinking into the hypnotics of his lustful gaze. the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “she’s a pleasure to teach”.

“thank you for this. so um--we go to the gymnasium now right?”.

“yeah, do you need help finding it?”.

“no it’s alright, I think I saw it on my way in. thank you though”.

“no problem. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your evening!”. she smiles sweetly.

“you too”, yeonjun nods, nudging his wife to push the baby stroller before they turned to leave. and adriana instantly wondered what he saw her in her. she was beautiful. but she wondered why he loved a woman with such an attitude. perhaps they had argument beforehand that she didn’t know about. but even that wouldn’t explain how careless she looked about her family.

and she was almost too careless. yeonjun could feel his adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of fucking someone new. it’s been a while since him and his wife had any kind of sex. she’d always blame it on the fact that she was tired and would postpone it to another night. but yeonjun had needs and once he saw adriana he became desperate once again. he didn’t want to ruin his marriage. god knows he didn’t.

but things in the choi household never went how yeonjun wanted it to go.

“give me back my controller myla!”. daniel shouts.

“no! you shouldn’t have cut the hair off my dollie! now your controller is going in the toilet!”. the smaller girl runs to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, leaving daniel angrily banging on it in agony. “stop it myla!!”.

“no I’m flushing it away!”.

all the commotion in the next room over was enough to startle logan, who was sleeping so soundly leaving yeonjun thinking that he was out for the night. but he wasn’t in this case. now he was crying and screaming to the top of his lungs and rattling his hands wanting nothing more than his father’s warmth.

daniel races to the kitchen, “daddy!! get myla she’s trying to flush my controller down the toilet!”. he screeches to his father who happened to be cooking over the stove top. “what do you mean she’s trying to flush it?”.

“get her! my controller is going to be broken!”.

overhearing the baby crying yeonjun rushes down the hall to get him, slowly lifting the infant out of his crib. still sobbing, the baby clings to his sweater and yeonjun shakes him gently hoping that his presence would be enough to calm him. but he could still hear daniel banging his fists against the bathroom door. yeonjun scrambles into the hallway and fiddles with the door knob.

“myla open up this door right now. you two are being too loud you just woke up your brother”.

“daddy?”. she asks innocently.

“yes this is daddy open up the door”.

there was faint shuffling on the other side of the door before she opened it. daniel gives a sigh of relief at the sight of his game controller sitting on the bathroom sink away from the toilet. myla glances up at her father with big eyes and the cutest face she could give. she’d do anything to avoid her father’s wrath.

“I wasn’t really going to flush it daddy”.

“give your brother back his game controller. why are you messing with him?”.

“he cut all my dollie’s hair off!”. she points, stomping her foot for good measure.

yeonjun looks back at his eldest son sternly. “daniel? why would you do that?”.

“daddy she’s always teasing me and being annoying”.

“give me the controller myla”.

she strolls to the sink and pushes the controller in her father’s hands while crossing her arms. yeonjun turns, “I’ll give you this controller but if i find out that you’re sabotaging myla’s toys again I’m selling your play station. If she’s annoying you come tell me so I can deal with her. I spend a lot of money on this stuff daniel”.

he huffs his breath with his back against the wall. “fine”.

“and myla,”. he turns, “if I find out that you’re trying to destroy your brother’s stuff again I’m selling your dolls. I spent a lot of money on that too”.

she gives a sigh that was identical to her brother’s. “fine”.

“good. you guys go play. where’s your mom?”.

“she said to tell you that she had to go someplace and that she’ll be back soon”. daniel exclaims while walking to his room. yeonjun checks his phone lock screen wondering where did she have to go at 9 o’clock at night. and the crazy part about it is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this.

“daddy?”. myla murmured fiddling with her fingers. yeonjun hadn’t notice she never went to her room.

“yes?”.

“can you buy me a new dollie? since daniel ruined my last one?”.

“yes. but stop teasing your brother so much and maybe he won’t mess with your stuff”.

“yay!!”.

“go on your ipad and pick one out. after you’re done show it to me okay?”.

“okay!! thanks daddy!”. she jeers, scurrying to her room already having the perfect doll in mind. yeonjun sighs, now looking at his messy haired baby boy who inches his tiny fingers up to press on yeonjun’s bottom lip.

“are you ready to eat logan?”. he asks in spite of the chaos that was going on in his mind. throughout the night he was calling leah consistently and she never picked up, her phone going straight to voicemail. so it was up to yeonjun, pretty much like it was every night. for him to cook dinner, for him to feed and change the baby, for him to make sure the kids are washed and ready for school the next day. and as frustrated as yeonjun was he always made sure he got everything done with or without her.

he was laying logan down in his crib for the night, the sleeping baby’s head falling tiredly into his pillow. he kisses him on his forehead and his cheeks before he heard the front door open and close.

making his way downstairs he spotted leah walking into the house, no--stumbling into the house with her work attire on. he approaches her before she could knock the kitchen chair over.

“leah? what is wrong with you? where were you?”. he whispers. she gives him a solemn glance trying to make herself look sober. it was failing miserably.

“I had to finish some stuff back up at the office yeonjun. don’t start”. she kicks her heels off at the door.

“don’t start? you’re never here. when are you ever going to be here? the kids see you once in the morning and then somehow you disappear for the rest of the day”.

“I just told you where I was. I’m going to bed now. I don’t feel like talking about this”. she brushes past him making her way to the staircase. the things yeonjun wanted to say to her-- but he bit his tongue. he didn’t want to pour his heart out just for her to leave him single and alone. had that been him coming in late and drunk she would’ve raised hell. accusing him of cheating and trying to kick him out the house. with three kids, the last thing yeonjun wanted was to be alone. it stressed him out.

and adriana saw it all over his face.

“hey, um- myla left her lunchbox in the car I just wanted to drop it off”. he approaches the vacant classroom-- the kids playing outside for the hour with the P.E teacher. adriana softly smiles at the man whom she wasn’t expecting to see so early in the day.

“hey yeonjun. no problem you can just sit it right there on her desk”. she guides. she was at the back of the classroom stapling work to the bulletin board.

“are you okay? you look a little stressed”. she adds.

“yeah I’m fine you know--just kids. they’re a handful sometimes. I’m sure you understand”.

“of course! I know how they can be at school. i don’t have any of my own though so I have no idea how they can be at home”.

hm, so she didn’t have any kids. yeonjun was annoyed with himself for even taking note of that. even worse, wondering if she was single.

“imagine a 24 hour school day. that’s exactly what it’s like”.

adriana chuckled. “god that’s brutal”.

“it is. you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. whenever you and your significant other decide to have children at least. it’s a world you haven’t known”.

she hops off of the stool to grab another sheet of paper to staple. she chuckles a little, “i hope this doesn’t sound weird but i actually look forward to that. whenever I actually get a significant other”.

yeonjun nods his head in disbelief. he wondered how a woman so beautiful with such an enthusiastic, compassionate attitude could be single at all. maybe she had a secret past yeonjun knew nothing about. perhaps she’s a psychopath. maybe even a gold digger.

but with the way she carried herself, in confidence but with humility, it attracted yeonjun he wouldn’t care if she was both.

“you’re single?”. yeonjun blurted out, wanting to smack himself for thinking out loud. she grins.

“why do you sound surprised?”.

while she stretches her arms up yeonjun stares at the small dip in her back and swallows. “well because you’re gorgeous”.

she steps off the stool again stifling a blush. she toys with the stapler in her hands.

“thank you and if i’m not mistaken it kind of sounds like you’re flirting with me”. she accuses, the cute grin of hers twisting into an innocent smile.

yeonjun breathes. it’s been years since he flirted with anyone other than his wife. but with the stress he was feeling nowadays he was willing to take any type of chance he could. he approaches her,

“it’s because I am”. he reassured, looking down at her hoping she felt the same way. only if he knew how much she thought about this moment, he’d take her right then and there. she pushes her face closer to his teasingly.

“aren’t you a married man? choi yeonjun?”. she licks her lips at the up close sight of his.

“please don’t mention my marriage while you’re licking your lips at me like that”. he monotones.

“or what? hm?“.

he grins, bending lower to hover his lips over her ear. “don’t test me adriana“.

his words sent chills down her spine. her heart races and before she could say her next word he was already glaring into her eyes soon after. he places his fingers at the bottom of her chin forging her attention on him.

“kiss me”. he demanded.

she clutches his wrist, half leaning in and half hesitant. she was uncertain. he had a wife. a family. children. but he was sexy and she could already feel her panties clinging to her now sticky folds. his lips were halfway there but he had other plans.

he sticks two fingers between his pretty pink lips while maintaining his gaze. adriana could feel her legs turning into jelly at the streams of saliva that slipped in between them and running down his hand. when they were finally drenched with the contents of his tongue he pulls them out and instead sticks his messy hand directly into her panties.

her lips parted and she tensed immediately, not gasping the air but gasping in his mouth---because it took almost nothing for yeonjun to pull her into a wet heated kiss. her lips felt just as yeonjun though they would. soft and full. she whimpered in delight as her tongue lolled into his hot mouth. his fingers slid through her slick liquid so easily, she was practically gushing for him and all he was doing was tracing his fingers around the circumference of her clit, not wanting to give her too much too soon. but the lighter his fingers were the more she twitched up into his hand. she wanted so much more. she needed so much more. her mind went blank.

“y-yyeonjun”., she mewls before he roughly sticks his tongue down her throat. she waited until she got another speck of air. “you’re m-married”. she partially wanted to warn, mainly because she didn’t want him to do anything that he was going to regret. he only let his fingers do the talking, allowing them to travel into her channel, pumping them into her gradually. she does that little innocent gasp again. the one that yeonjun likes, the one that made her seem like she’s never been touched before. the euphoric waves his fingers gave her was like venom, swimming through her nerves and making her legs tremble.

his hand searches for the back of her thigh and he lifts her leg around his waist, widening her legs.

“you’re thinking about my marriage and I’m thinking about pounding you into this fucking table”.

he watches her face contort in pleasure and he smirks. he couldn’t deny the hard on she gave him by her measly moans alone. she sounded so helpless and needy for more of him. she was dripping down his fingers and it took every instinctual part of him to not unbuckle his jeans. she pressed her body into his like a bruise, gasping into the crook of his neck as his fingers delve deeper into her. “ohh m-my god please ddon’t stop”.

pulses of arousal amended around yeonjun fingers and he sloppily kisses her hungrily. she steadily grinds her hips into his rhythmic thrusts in need.

“just like that adriana, fuck my fingers”. he groans into her mouth, she wondered if it was possible to get wetter at the sound of his voice. if not, she was definitely pulsating harder than before after he said that. with a shaky hand she reaches down to unzip his pants. “pplease fuck me I need it”. she whines, not being able to withstand anymore of the finger fucking. she wanted to be stretched. “pplease make it quick I have to go get the kids in 7 minutes”.

yeonjun lets her undo his pants, he enjoyed her desperation for him. it was hot and it was something he wasn’t used to. leah was never like this. but adriana was a woman who knew what she wanted and who she wanted it from. so it wasn’t as embarrassing for her to slide down on his dick the way she did. she was turned, her back facing his front where yeonjun could see her ass swallow his dick whole. he wasn’t going to fuck her initially since this was their first sexual interaction. but he was hard and she was needy so he didn’t care anymore.

the setting quickly fades from his mind while he watches her bounce against him wildly. his breathing becomes weighty and he grips her waist in absolute heaven, her slick sheathing his dick faithfully. he hid his bottom lip behind his teeth to produce a curse word but couldn’t quite get it out entirely; everything felt so fucking amazing and unbelievably so. broken curse words fluttered from his throat.

“fu--fuckk”. he utters with a low grunt. with her own electricity shooting through her veins and torso obscene moans fled from her lips and yeonjun clasped his hand over her mouth before she could get any louder. he had no intentions on getting caught but on the other hand it was hot hearing her unable to control herself.

her hips rolled down as she took up a measured pace riding him, her thighs burning but her movements were pleasing the both of them and the way yeonjun smacked her ass in praise gave her every reason to keep going. he soon met her thrusts by gripping her ass and grinding against it, chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come if she kept going at the same pace. “ohh my god”. she hissed. he was gripping her ass rough enough to leave a significant bruise. not that adriana cared anyway, it would be an honor to be bruised up by yeonjun.

“god I’m going to fucking cum all over you”. she whines, reaching down to play with her clit along the way. yeonjun fucked into her a bit harder, exhaling all the choked up groans he withheld until her juices was spilling down his dick with ease. she trembles, wiggling her ass on him a bit longer before rushing to pull her panties up and look presentable for the rest of the school day. she was shocked to see that yeonjun was still hard as a rock, yet he was zipping up his jeans.

she clutches her clipboard, totally not expecting yeonjun to grab her from behind and kiss her on the cheek the way he did. she felt his bulge pressed against her backside.

“next time ride my dick until I cum”.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun smut #dilf!yeonjun #txt smut

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

#love you sketchy!#ladynoir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfiction #my writing

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

Text

Game Master Akuma AU by crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

#submission

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cactusnymph · 3 years

Text

Prompt fill #9 for @dimension20alphabet:

Injury

The air smells of smoke, dust and blood.

Fabian is pretty sure that his left foot is broken, which sucks because he’s going to have a hard time kicking anyone’s ass without both his feet. Dancing will also be difficult.

He clutches his battle sheet and tries to pull his foot out of the rubble it got stuck between. If he gets his hands on the bastards who made this damn cave explode above them even their ancestors are going to have a headache waking up tomorrow.

But for that to happen, Fabian needs to get out of here.

“Fabian?”

Riz’ voice sounds hoarse and muffled and Fabian assumes that he’s somewhere behind another pile of rubble.

“I’m over here”, he answers and tries to make his voice sound casual and not like he wants to do something embarrassing, like whimper from the pain. Fabian can barely anything and breathing is hard because there is so much dust in the air.

“I’ll—let me see if I can get to you. You okay?”, Riz asks. Fabian doesn’t waste his breath to answer, he tries to push some of the rubble away from his ankle and lets out a wheezing breath. His mouth tastes like iron.

He can hear Riz try to move the rubble out of the way, but his arms are like tiny twigs so Fabian doesn’t see how he’ll get any of that shit to move. And Fabian, being uselessly stuck with his damn foot, can’t help him.

Fabian thought that splitting up the party was the smartest move, but now he regrets their choices because damn, they sure could use Kristen’s healing or Adaine’s magic or Gorgug’s insane muscles to move some of this shit.

The quest to defeat the Night Yorb hasn’t exactly gone well so far. Fabian feels like being stuck in a fucking cave with his foot broken and his mouth full of blood is the peak of bad luck that they have reached so far. He can only hope that the others had more success on their ventures.

But as far as he knows, they’re also stuck somewhere in here.

Fabian never specifically had a problem with small, closed spaces, but right now he feels like his chest is unusually tight and he could swear that the damn ceiling is getting closer while he’s desperately trying to get his foot unstuck.

The rubble behind him shifts and a few pained noises bring Fabian back to reality as a small, lithe shape wiggles itself through an impossible tiny crack made in the pile behind him as Riz appears, his head bleeding profusely and his face contorted in a mix of determination and pain.

“Are you okay?”, Riz asks again the second he scrambles through the hole he made. Fabian notices that his hands are also bleeding—probably from digging through all those stones. Something in Fabian’s chest feels like a nervous bird fluttering against his rib cage and it takes him a confused moment to realize that it’s his heart.

Riz has been different since they defeated the Nightmare King.

More self confident somehow. Less awkward. Scarily competent.

And he stopped wearing his hat.

Fabian has been feeling weird around him for a while, but the fact that this little Goblin dug himself through sharp rocks to get to him, bleeding and bruised and hurt, and the first thing he does is ask if Fabian is okay—it does things to him.

Fabian refuses to acknowledge this.

“My foot is stuck”, he says.

Riz—and he’s been Riz for a while now, at least in Fabian’s head, and not The Ball anymore—turns his huge, yellow eyes to the stones that are crushing Fabian’s foot between them.

“Got it”, Riz says and without doing anything about his bleeding head or his bleeding hands he gets to work, his small frame working tirelessly, determined, stubborn even. The rocks are big—way too big for Riz to actually lift them.

But Riz wouldn’t be Riz if he wouldn’t be a nerd even about stuff like this.

Using his sword as leverage he manages to roll the bigger ones off of the pile. While he works Fabian can see blood dripping down the sword and Riz’ face.

He swallows heavily.

“You’re bleeding”, he croaks.

“I know. I’ll take care of it in a second”, Riz answers.

He’s focused.

Fabian knows that, when Riz gets like this, there is no way to deter him from the task at hand. It sometimes happens for a project at school, or when he has a case he’s close to cracking. He disappears into his head and into his task at hand and it takes hours for him to appear again.

Fabian doesn’t know when exactly he started to catalogue all of Riz’ facial expressions and behaviors, but he has quite the collection so far.

Riz works in silence. Sometimes, when he gets like this, he starts mumbling to himself, but not this time.

He looks almost grim.

Fabian isn’t sure if it’s actually getting warmer in here or if that’s just him.

“Do you think the others got stuck as well?”, he says to distract himself from the heat crawling under his skin and the fluttering in his chest.

“Probably not. By my estimation they should be way further down already”, Riz murmurs and wipes some sweat off his forehead, which simply leaves a smearing of blood where his hand touches his green skin.

Fabian has no idea since when his damn brain finds it mesmerizing to see blood on his best friend’s skin, but here he is, staring at Riz because he looks weirdly... ragged? Badass?

Fabian is annoyed at himself.

When he finally feels the weight lifted off his ankle he pulls his leg out and makes a pained noise in the back of his throat that causes Riz’ concentrated gaze to turn to him. His yellow eyes remind Fabian of cats’ eyes in the dark and he swallows again as Riz comes over to him and touches Fabian’s face to turn his head to the side so he can inspect his wounds.

Fabian’s heart stumbles in his chest.

Gods dammit, this is completely ridiculous.

“You bleeding anywhere else?”, Riz asks and then his eyes find Fabian’s and they’re staring at each other. Fabian knows that Riz is in no headspace to think about kissing, but damn, Fabian does. Fabian’s stupid brain tells him to just grab Riz by the shoulders and pull him down, pull him on top of Fabian to minimize the space between them—

“Fabian? You got a concussion? Let me check your eyes.”

Riz gets even closer.

Fabian thinks he might die.

He thinks about the way Aelwyn made him feel back then, when he got so excited about kissing her again. Somehow that was nothing compared to how he’s been feeling about Riz for a while now. As Fig said, kissing someone you’re “madly in love with just hits different”.

“Don’t think so”, he manages and his voice sounds like sandpaper on stone.

“Okay. I have my healer’s kit. Just let me clean my hands real quick.”

Fabian watches how Riz procures water and his healer’s kit from his bag and starts washing his hands as good as he can before he tries to wrap bandages around both of his hands. He lets out a frustrated hiss.

“Let me—“, Fabian says and grabs Riz’ hands.

To be fair, Fabian never paid much attention when Cathilda or Kristen tried to teach him first aid because it never was of much interest to him—and now he definitely wishes he had listened a little closer. But it can’t be that difficult to wrap a tiny pair of Goblin hands in bandages to make them stop bleeding.

“You have to do, like, a kind of V-shape. Yeah. Like that. Not too tight, please. Yeah, that works.”

What Fabian didn’t really think through was that now he’s somewhat holding Riz’ hands. Which doesn’t exactly help his brain or his heart to calm down. At least his internal turmoil distracts him from the pain and the situation they’re currently in.

He remembers how Riz stole that healer’s kit on their very first day of school. He’s had it ever since and restocked it carefully for each of their adventures, taking great care to learn how to give first aid to his friends when everyone else was out of spells or they were separated.

“Thanks, Fabian”, Riz says once it’s done and he wiggles his fingers slightly, then turns his eyes back on Fabian’s face.

“I’ll take care of your head first and then I can check out that foot. Maybe I can—I dunno. Make a splint or something.”

“You—uh. You got really good at this”, Fabian says and turns his gaze upwards so he doesn’t have to focus on Riz’ yellow eyes right in front of him anymore.

“Thanks”, Riz mumbles and his bandages fingers touch Fabian’s face gently.

Fabian kind of wishes one of the rocks had just knocked him out.

This is pathetic.

He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

Maybe his confidence died briefly—or for a longer period of time—back on their Spring Break adventure, but he’s been building it back up! He’s a catch! He’s amazing!

Riz should be the one getting nervous because he’s allowed to touch Fabian’s handsome face.

“I think once we’re patched up you should take my sword and teleport through all that rubble and I’ll try to crawl back. We need to find the others.”

“You shouldn’t crawl back through that, The Ball”, Fabian says, thinking about Riz’s bloody hands. Riz shouldn’t get hurt on Fabian’s behalf.

Gods, Fabian has it bad.

“It’s fine. I’m smaller than you, so it’s easier for me. And I don’t think you should move too much with that brok—“

“I’m in—I have feelings. For you.”

Silence.

Fabian doesn’t dare to breathe. Two seconds ago it felt right to finally say it, but now he’s regretting all his life choices leading up to this, as Riz’ yellow eyes stare at him, his small fingers still on Fabian’s forehead, holding a piece of gauze against the wound.

“Wh—what?”

“Forget it—it’s uh—I probably do have a concussion. Nevermind!”

He can tell that Riz doesn’t buy it and also that Fabian’s words have ripped him out of his state of hyper-focus, something that Fabian has never managed to do before. Maybe he should feel kind of proud. But instead he feels sick to his stomach.

“Feelings? Like—uh—like...”

Fabian sees the confidence slip from Riz’ face like a mask he wore, and underneath is still the socially awkward kid handing people fucking business cards and vomiting inside of backpacks because he heard some clues.

“Yeah. Like that”, he says.

It’s hard to see in the dark, but Fabian could swear that Riz’ cheeks are tinted dark green.

“Really?”

His voice sounds very small now. Nervous. As if he expects Fabian to start laughing and say “Of course not, The Ball”. Which is probably fair. It’s not like Fabian ever managed to make his appreciation of his best friend very clear.

“Hm.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What does that mean?”

“I—uh—I don’t. Um—this is—“

Riz laughs nervously and turns his head.

“I didn’t—um. Well”, he laughs again and sits down, hugs his knees and props his chin on top of them. “I kinda didn’t expect to ever hear that. From you. Um—yeah. It’s been... a long time. For me? I guess.”

Fabian’s brain short circuits and his heart does a very complicated dancing routine.

“You—what?”

Riz peaks up at him. Shrugs.

“I’ve kinda been in love with you since. I don’t even know. A long time.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. For real.”

“Okay, fuck this cave. Fuck this whole thing. We have to get out of here so I can fucking kiss your brains out. Give me your sword.”

Riz hides his face for a second and then he laughs, a shaky, nervous but also happy laugh. He does not hand Fabian his sword.

“First the wounds. Then the sword. Then—then the other stuff.”

“Fine. You better hurry up.”

“I will. Hold still.”

Fabian is still determined to kick everyone’s ass once they get out of this. But maybe he’ll also send them some fruit baskets to the hospital afterwards.

#fabriz #dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #fabian aramais seacaster #d20alphabet21 #fanfiction #mi writes

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duckieeart · 3 years

Text

Victor’s - Moody Date

Hello! This is my entry for @little-butterfly-writes ‘s Contest . It’s my first time writing and I really enjoyed the process of it, enjoy reading this date!

Fandom: MLQC - Victor Li x Duckie (Mc)

Genre : jealousy jealousy jealousy , comfort , Filled with romance ( fluff)

Word count : 3,309

As If its not obvious enough to everybody.

I have feelings towards my boss, victor Li. I did fall in love with a person that I know i can’t reach even if i had him in my wildest dreams. I all i am wishing for is that no one know about these hidden feelings hoping that i will be able to maintain the decision i took and forget about him, But unfortunately things goes unplanned after I experienced certain feeling. jealousy .

If Kiki , Anna , the rest of my friends and colleagues found out about my secret feelings including the letters I wrote about victor secretly , I would get in big trouble , what letters you may ask? It’s simple. Basically, when i feel like I can’t control the love i feel towards him . I write down all my feelings in a letter and hide it somewhere , i got this idea from a movie i watched last year. At first , I haven’t thought not in a million years that I would use this idea and especially writing my unwanted feelings towards my CEO ,Aka victor li .

He was very strict and seemed to be very rude, i used to hate on him . He isn’t my type in men plus we’re completely different. Its not a big surprise since he is the CEO of an worldwide successful company ,LFG.

Just to clarify our differences. He made his company from the beginning meanwhile me, A young lady who inherited a show from her father once she Graduated from college. I didn’t even have an experience in life or the business field.

Everything were so difficult to me and it felt like an endless maze , the fact that I have him as my investor was like a miracle . Not only that but he really take good care of me . He is older in age , with a mature mindset . I am just young reckless, hesitant and inexperienced girl who just got a big position and so naive comparing to what she is responsible for .

I thought alot about giving up but victor make me change my mind and Instead of giving up he gave me the motivation to challenge him , i was in the mood to show him and prove to him that i can take the harsh responsibilities like an adult And be someone who is trust worthy enough to have his five hundred million investment in my show .

With time, i fall in love with him. And with everyday goes by it only grows bigger and bigger than the day before. The more i try to hide my feelings. The more it becomes obvious . When he confessed his feelings to me that day in the rooftop. I was beyond happy. I couldn’t sleep that day. But I quickly get back to the harsh reality, and remembered the huge gap between us, Victor deserve someone near to his position. Not me, comparing to him i am just a crybaby who rant about submitting reports and dealing with the deadlines every week .

But one day, I don’t know what’s goes inside my brain . I couldn’t even control my own body. When i found out that Victor would go to the awards banquet with another woman, I stopped thinking and I couldn’t care less about how weird i am behaving with my colleagues . In that night , i saw victor leaving the fancy banquet hall with another woman.

She looks way more mature and wiser than me. To put it in simple words she has everything i lack, and to my unfortunate luck. She does everything way better than me . And tonight , I witnessed My heart sinking in the ground. Its like i just got drenched in icy cold water in this snowy weather . I drank Alot . Wine, whiskey and even brandy . I couldn’t even recognize the bitterness in them . I just drink to be numb and ease my heart.

When the banquet came to an end ..

“ you two can head home first, its late . The weather is pretty today so i just want to walk and be alone for some time “ I spoke with a shaky voice tone, then left after grabbing my hand bag from the table.

“ whats wrong with our boss? She’s has been acting weird these few days especially today” Kiki spoke to anna.

Anna were worried as well , she just shrugs in confusion replying to kikis question.

“ i have never seen her like that before!” Anna added

“ it’s dangerous to let her be alone !, we can’t just leave her there! “ kiki said

“ she wanted time to get her self together, I think its very inappropriate for us to interrupt her wishes . * she smiled * Don’t worry minor would keep his eyes on her from afar “ Anna said while patting Kiki s shoulder gently to comfort her .

After leaving them. i rushed to the back beautiful garden to try and process everything happened tonight , the scenery were amazing but I couldn’t focus and appreciate it , I started regretting what i did, I shouldn’t push him away acting dumb and slow from the beginning. I love him more than anything, I admit i am very jealous and I don’t know how to deal with it because its my first time feeling this way about someone. I have never wanted someone as much I do for Victor.

These feelings were so exhausting to bear alone ,I was so hopeless that i even shared my story anonymously in tumbler with people but everyone advised me to stay away and forget about him for endless reasons. Yeah, they were right. But..

I also can’t… I CANT STOP LOVING HIM AND GIVE UP ON THIS . people wont have mercy on us and our relationship since we are a boss and worker in love but now seeing this . Realizing I might lose him forever. I don’t care, seeing him taking care of a random woman and accompanying her in the banquet really make me rethink about everything and even that thoughtful decision i took and was so confident about . I decided to head to the parking section for cars to follow them. I started running like crazy .

“GOD PLEASE PLEASE LET ME MAKE IT , PLEASE DONT LET THEM LEAVE TOGETHER ! . PLEASE.. I CANT LOSE HIM THIS TIME” i said begging .

I can lose anything and everything, but not him. I can’t lose Victor!

Because no one loved me like he did And I can’t imagine falling in love again with a different man.

Suddenly my foot slipped and i fall.

The expensive pair of high heel that i brought got ruined too. One of them broke But I couldn’t stop here! Im still in the middle of the way . My legs started be numb and it hurt a little because these shoes were new too , But I didn’t care, I can’t lose the path that can lead me to them! I still have to find Victor!

When i reached to the cars parking space , I couldn’t find them…

My nose suddenly started to burn and my eyes started sweating?, i decided to go back inside the banquet and sit . I couldn’t find chair there so I went to sit the corner on the stairs like a lost child. I started to cry heartily like a baby who lost her parents . But for me comparing to the baby I lost everything, I lost Victor..

My body is shaking and I couldn’t stop the thoughts in my mind. My mind went wild and started to even imagining how they would look together in the church . Kissing each other passionately after announcing them as a husband and wife. My heart suddenly started to beat so fast and I began to struggle breathing , while sobbing quietly.

Suddenly i felt a warm coat landed on my head, shoulders and has familiar manly scent ..

my face were swallowed, especially my eyes and nose. I was slow to react and realizing that this coat belongs to him…. And only him. Victor..

I felt strange feeling , i was happy and relieved that i was able to meet him again.. and that happiness give me strange feelings in my tummy . I believe that’s what they call “butterflies in the stomach” , I felt really warm. I don’t think it’s because of that coat. But him. Who give them his scent and body temperature

“ * sigh helplessly at the view* Dummy.. what are you doing here in this condition ? Don’t you know it’s dangerous area, especially in this hour? What if someone came for you ? Or even decided to kidnap you ,taking you away ? What are going to do? I searched everywhere for you and I couldn’t find you its like you weren’t in this earth from the beginning , WHERE THE HECK YOU WERE??? ………. But most importantly are you okay? Did something happen?……… Duckie , are you crying? “

my eyes couldn’t stop the tears from coming out when he were talking in such an sharp voice, he was really worried so he was furious to see me in such a state alone , but when he noticed that i was crying so hard, sniffing and wiping my eyes his voice turned so soft and calm

he grabbed my hands and hold them between his hands to warm them up

I refused to talk or face him because i wasn’t looking at my best right now, he just kneeled down to my level like prince charming and looked at me, he noticed how swallowed and red my face are.. he reached with his hands to hold my cheeks while massaging my under eyes

“ do they hurt A lot? “ he said quietly ,

I nodded while looking in the ground, my eyes fell upon his shoes trying to avoid his glare.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine too. Lets go home first … its getting late” he said..

I nodded because i was too tired to reply using sentences . I stand and remembered my broken heels and slightly injured foot.

Before I could explain, Victor carried me bridal style , I didn’t needed to explain anything. I felt warm , safe and happy, that I forget that I’m being held between his arms . I gave up to the warm sensation and fall asleep.

Victor put me in his car gently , wrapping my body with his big coat then went to grab hot tea and body warmers from the super market near by.

i took some time to wake up, when i wake up i was still in his car , the car was really warm. I didn’t find Victor on the driver seat so i looked outside.

i saw him tapping on his tablet working and answering calls . I also noticed that we’re near the sea and its 12am . I took my time appreciating the view , then i knocked at the window. Victor saw me and returned to the car.

“ you wake up, how do you feel now ? “ he asked with a soft voice

“ i am better now , sorry for making a scene back there. I was really upset about something so i was drunk , angry and upset thats why I decided to be alone , sorry i worried you and caused you trouble “i said while looking into his eyes.

“ dummy… And why did you drink? “ he said angrily ..

“ please don’t be mad i was just so upset, can’t you just allow me to drink only this time?” I said

“ yes, i am angry at you… but also glad to see you safe and better. After all , i can’t ask for more from dummy like you” victor said then poked the tip of my nose lightly with his fingers , after that he patted my head gently, smiling at me .

“ its late, let’s head home” he said

After few minutes driving i realized that we are in different path and its unfamiliar to me.

“ where are we going “ i asked hesitantly ..

“ to My home” he said

“ to your home??”

“Well, only if your apartment was nearby like my home. Its late already, just sleep tonight in my house” he said calmly

I nodded in agreement.

After few minutes we arrived.

Victor opened the door for me , i entered inside . His home was big but also felt so warm and cozy . Victor turned to face me “ go and take a hot shower, then dry your hair. Don’t get cold. I asked them to prepare you clothes. If you need anything ask me “ he said

i went to the room. It was big as expected and has a fancy bathtub. After i finished showering and preparing for bed. When i was about to head to sleep, I suddenly heard knocks on my door .

“Get in “ i said

The door was opened and it was victor, he was wearing his classic black pjs

“ as expected, you didn’t even dry your hair yet you headed to sleep anyways“ he said..

“What if you get cold?” He added

He went to grab a hairdryer from the drawer . Then turned to face me

“ come here” he said

I understand what he want so i sit and give him my back. He started to dry my hair, touching my hair so gently. After he finished drying my hair he took a hair tie and started to tie my hair.

“ there’s something I wanted to say to you” he said

“ hmm? “ I replied

“ i will get to the point “ he said

“ I might not know what exactly that got you so bothered like that , but you must know that there are a lot of circumstances in the world that are out of our control. The causes and reasons behind every circumstance is complicated. In a world where it’s impossible to know everything, it’s normal that we experience things we cannot understand and find difficult to accept. Even so, we have to accept it. There are many ways to accept it. Crying is also one of them. However, only for one night. ( he took my hand that was planning on reaching my face)…. And don’t rub your eyes, it will be better if you leave it and take a good sleep “ he added .

After leaving, he leaned to kiss my head .

“ good night “ he said

“ wait! “ i said

His eyes locked into mine , waiting for me to say what I want to say.

“ why did you went to the banquet, with her? “ i couldn’t stop my curiosity so i asked him .

He chuckled quietly then pinned my chin forcing me to look at him..

“ you jealous? “ he said

A bold idea came up to me ,

“Yes..i am! “ I didn’t wasted time and answered his question seriously.

He was frozen in his place , stopped chuckling and has a surprised face expression .

I gathered all my courage to say the three most difficult words ..

“ i love you victor! “ i said , while looking into his face..

then reached to his face and give him a quick peck on his lips ..

“ don’t make me feel this way again, I hate it !“ i said and then went for another kiss . But He didn’t kiss me back , still surprised by my bold move.

“ when i saw how you looked to her when she was talking to you . You were smiling while and looking into her eyes , I wondered if you ever started to lose your feelings towards me , i was really scared of losing you.. i even started to imagine how you would look in your groom suit .. standing beside her in front of everyone… i was so scared “ my voice cracked at the end.. i felt the tears forming in my eyes

“ I really… really don’t want to lose you . I did my research about her, She won countless times and even has the f-“ my speech were cut off with his hot kiss .

He closed his eyes and rested his one hand on the back of my head and the other on my neck.

He pulled his lips away from mine when he noticed how i was struggling to breathe.

“ … you talk too much” he said while maintaining his sharp eyes on me.

“Since when you had these thoughts on that little brain of yours? Instead of using it on useless things, apply this effort and worry about your unfinished weekly report instead. You thought I haven’t noticed how distracted you were ?“ Victor said.

“ relax dummy , Lili is just an older sister to me. She asked if i can company her since her husband on business trip outside china. Lili is busy in work but also dealing with three kids at the same time. I was just helping her manage the deal she had with SJ company , you don’t have to worry that little head of yours on such matters “ victor added.

“ Duckie, i searched for you, and luckily after 10017 years i was able to meet you again. The little head of yours could never imagine how bad I wanted to see that silly smile of yours again. I waited for so long , and you better make it up to me. In other words , Be mine” victor said , while holding my left cheek and went for another breathless kiss ..

“ i —-love —-you——-, Dummy “ he said between his kisses ..

“ don’t close your eyes, look at me when iam talking to you. You know that i love when you’re bold with me, right?” he said smiling at me then slightly biting my lower lip ..

“I was so happy when i met you, in the end of the banquet . I thought you went with her“ i said while having a big silly smile on my face

“ There is only one thing you should be happy about……. It has always been you and only you” he said while looking at my eyes and holding my hot blushing cheeks in his big hand .

After making out sessions for straight two hours , he lay me down on the bed pulling the quilt over my body.

“ go to sleep, and NEVER think about theses useless matters . if you want to ask me something Just ask me directly ... Goodnight dummy” he said ..

“Good night” i replied softly

He smiled then give me a final forehead kiss and went outside the room after dimming the lights ..

In the next day i went to LFG to submit my weekly report , suddenly i received a call from Kiki

“ boss, i made a surprise for you!! you are going to thank me for it . Don’t overthink about it, and just enjoy the surprise” she said while giggling in mischievous manner.

She closed the call, i was nervous and curious at the same time but I didn’t pay much attention on that because I didn’t have much time left, i have weekly report to submit! . I hurried to victors office and luckily I arrived on time but I found my secret love letters has been opened on victors office already and he had one of them on his hand , taking his time reading it while drinking his coffee ..

he noticed me standing near the door , surprised and embarrassed . Victor smirked in anticipation

“ You have a lot of explainings to do , Producer Duckie “ he said while giving me smirky face

what a Great start to my day.

The End

Thank you for reading, see you next time!

#恋与制作人 #love and producer #evol x love #mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #love victor #victor x reader #mlqc fanart #mlqc fanfic #mlqc date #mr love queen's choice #victor #little butterfly writes contest #little butterfly writes contest submission

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safertokiss · 4 years

Text

There’s No One Else

A/N: Heyooo! I loved this request so of course I had to write something for it. It’s my first MGG fic, but it was super fun to write and I plan to do more fics for his other roles. Thanks for the support and all the kind words!<3 P.S. I decided to try out 2nd person in this one.

Request: “Can you do an angst/smut with Matthew but it's the set of criminal minds and they are shooting a scene and reader likes Matthew but she is keeping it a secret? sorry if that didn't make any sense. I love your writing!!” ( @victomizedbyreginageorge )

Pairing: MATTHEW GRAY GUBLERx FEM! READER

Category: SMUT, slight angst, and of course fluff

Word Count: 5.2k

ENJOY!:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

Ever since you were a child, you knew that you were destined to be on the set of a production studio, surrounded by the biggest stars the business had to offer. Granted, you had always assumed you’d be the one in front of the camera rather than behind, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers in this world.

It’s not that you disliked being Khalia Dark’s assistant. She was a world renown celebrity, loved by all who were graced with her presence, from afar that is. Anyone who had the “honor” to get up close and personal with her, yourself included, knew she wasn’t the sweetest of the bunch. If you were to use your own words, she was a mythic bitch. Adored by millions, envied by more, which was pretty much the case for all of the A-listers out here anyway. Although you could do without the woman being in your vicinity, you didn’t mind being her servant most of the time.

More often than not you were certain she forgot about your existence all together, which usually gave you a chance to breathe for a bit. While your job brought about many positives for yourself, for example the extensive knowledge of posh coffees that you would have memorized for life, the highlight of the endeavor was without a doubt the exclusive access to the extravagant movie and TV sets that the queen bee happened to be appearing in each given week. Today, much to your excitement, was one of those days. Usually movies were more her forte so it was always a nice, refreshing change when she booked a role for the small screen.

Her newest conquest in the industry just happened to be one of your favorite shows to have ever aired, Criminal Minds. Of course you were trying to remain professional, but it became increasingly difficult the closer you got to the studio lot’s entrance. The child in you was screaming with joy at the prospect of being there, surrounded by some of your favorite actors and actresses in the industry. You couldn’t even consider the possibility that you would get to meet Matthew Gray Gubler, the object of your affections for as long as you had been watching the show. That simply was a no go. You were positive that if at any point in time he was in your vicinity, you would simply lose consciousness, and that wouldn’t exactly be the best first impression. The further you walked onto the set, the more amazed you were. You were so familiar with it after years of watching, it just felt like a second home. After breaking out of your stupor, you quickly spun around to try and locate your boss, immediately colliding with whatever was in front of you, letting out a small “oomf”. Well. Whoever.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying atten-.”

You immediately froze mid-sentence when your eyes caught up with your actions. Fuck. This is not happening. It was him. Standing less than a foot away from you was the one and only Mr. Matthew Gray Gubler, live and in the flesh. Fucking hell.

“Hey it’s no problem, I promise. Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly the most coordinated person on the planet either, trust me”, he said, chuckling lightly. Running a hand through his unkempt curls, he momentarily let his eyes roam your frame before seemingly snapping out of it, clearing his throat and extending one of his strong looking hands towards you.

“I’m Matthew by the way.”

You, however, were still frozen in place. Realizing how stupid you looked just standing there, openly ogling the man in front of you, you quickly met his hand, a nervous smile adorning your face. His hands were so fucking soft.

Chuckling once again, he seemed to be waiting for something.

“And you are?”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even introduced yourself yet! So much for first impressions you thought.

“O-oh right! Sorry. I'm Y/N. Ms. Dark’s assistant”, you stuttered out, entranced by the specimen in front of you. “Wow, that’s a beautiful name. Well I guess it’s fitting. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Wait a second. Had you heard those words correctly. THE Matthew Gray Gubler just called you beautiful? You must’ve been dreaming, there was simply no other explanation. But when you glanced at him he was once again trailing his eyes all over you. Holy shit. You thought you were going to implode on the spot.

“Th-thank you”, you muttered shyly, feeling the blush spread across your features faster than a wildfire in a dry forest. After your weak excuse of an answer left your lips, the two of you just continued to stare at each other for what felt like hours. Eventually you were broken out of your trance by the director calling all of the actors to their places across the lot.

“I-um-I gotta go do a scene, but it was a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I hope I get to see more of you around here.” With a quick wink in my direction, he was off in the direction of the other actors swarming to the set from their trailers. For the third time in the last five minutes you were frozen to the spot in which you stood on the pavement. What in the actual fuck just happened? He called you beautiful. He wants to see more of you. HE WINKED AT YOU. This time you felt like you were truly about to lose consciousness so you booked it to the bathroom to calm yourself. After splashing some water on your face, you felt your body temperature returning to a somewhat normal degree and decided you should probably go to the set in case the Queen of Hearts needed anything from you.

When you approached the scene that was being filmed, you were able to deduct fairly quickly what the plot revolved around. Apparently Khalia had been hired as the episode’s damsel in distress victim, typical. She was definitely the type to rely on others for pretty much anything. That wasn’t what was catching your eye though. Even from where you were standing you could clearly see her making eyes at Matthew. I guess you couldn’t blame her, he was gorgeous, but it still made you feel so insecure. It really just served as a reminder that people like him would never go after people like you. They want the ones who count. They want Ms. Khalia Dark. In what world would someone like him want a nobody like Y/N Y/L/N? There wasn’t one that came to mind. And while this revelation was pretty damn heartbreaking, you couldn’t say you were shocked by the cold, hard truth.

Feeling like you had lost a war that hadn’t ever really even begun, you turned back to look at Matthew, deciding to make the most of however short the time was that you’d be here. However, he was nowhere to be seen. You quickly realized that while you had been distracted, the scene had switched to something else, one where Matthew appeared to be absent.

“Hey again!”

You literally jumped off the ground and let out a little yelp at the noise, you were so startled.

“Oops, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he got out between adorable giggles. Damn, this man was gonna be the death of you. Literally. If he scared you like that again, you might actually have a heart attack.

“Jesus Matthew! A little warning next time!” You couldn’t help but join in his giggling after a few seconds. Returning his gesture just made the two of you laugh even harder until both of your chests hurt like hell. His laugh was angelic. Perfect. Just like him. For some reason, after you guys had calmed down a bit, you noticed him once again looking you up and down, admiring your body. You even swore you saw him lick his lips. You must be imagining things. Weird. Very weird. Bringing his wandering eyes back to yours, a goofy grin was plastered across his face. You hadn’t even realized you were biting your lip until he reached towards you, dislodging your teeth from the soft skin. “Don’t do that,” he said with a much more serious expression adorning his features. Before you really had the chance to decipher what had just happened, a loud voice cut through the air directed towards you both, causing you to put a bit of space between the two of you. You were able to easily recognize the sultry voice as Shemar’s, turning towards him, a smirk on his face.

“What’s going on that’s so funny over here,” he questioned before his attention shifted to focus solely on you. “My, my. And what’s your name sugar?” You were starstruck for what felt like the thousandth time that day, standing there with your mouth awkwardly hanging open.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I work for Kahlia, her assistant actually. Nice to meet you”, you answered brightly, a polite smile gracing your lips.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine sweetness”, he concluded with a wink. While the action was endearing, it had nowhere near the same effect on you as Matthew’s did. You had always adored Morgan on the show, but you didn’t really know Shemar well enough to have any serious opinions about the dude. Matthew, however, you knew everything there was to be known, from his haunted treehouse to his love of Halloween. You weren’t proud of your obsession, but you couldn’t deny the unbelievably strong attraction you had for the man to your left. Regardless, the interaction caused a blush to spread, though this time it was caused more by being flustered rather than speechless.

You were about to say something else to try and salvage some of the pride you had just lost, but you were beaten to the punch by Romeo himself.

“Nothing’s happening over here actually, Shemar. I was having a private conversation with Y/N and I’d appreciate it if you let us get back to it. Thank you.” Matthew’s voice had picked up an edge and his eyes were dark. Like really dark. Although the situation was super uncomfortable and kind of unsettling, considering how feral he looked, you couldn’t help to think about how HOT it was. How hot he was.

“Woah, sorry kid. I didn’t mean to interrupt, just thought I’d introduce myself.”

Seeming to notice his mistakes, Matthew’s eyes quickly returned to their normal color and he stuttered out an apology, with slightly labored breaths.

“No, no I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to snap like that, just been kind of on edge today”, he said, darting his eyes towards you quickly before redirecting his attention and clearing his throat.

“It’s all good Pretty Ricky, I get like that sometimes too. I’ll catch you guys later. It was nice to meet you Y/N”, he spoke before turning and retreating in the direction of the cast trailers. Shifting your focus back to Matthew, you could tell he was still a bit tense. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder to grab his attention, quietly asking if he was ok.

“Hmm what? Oh, um yeah. Yup. I’m-I’m good. All good. Like I said just a little on edge today. I haven’t had enough coffee”, he hastily responded. Before you could push further, the silence was broken by a shrill voice you were too familiar with, Khalia, unfortunately calling for your assistance at one of the most inopportune times. You turned back to him and gave a sad smile.

“See you around,” you asked, with just a little too much excitement laced in your voice.

“Y-yeah. Of course!” He seemed to have perked up a bit and gave you a wide grin. With a small wave, you were off to do whatever in God’s name the queen wanted from you now.

~~~

The week you were on set was surprisingly going by pretty damn quickly.

As much as you were anxiously awaiting the end so you could be free from Khalia for a bit of time, you couldn’t help but lament the fact that you would have to leave what felt like your second home. You would have to leave Matthew. That’s what hurt most of all. The two of you had become quite close in the short time you had been on set. Well, maybe not close per say, but comfortable? Sure. You guys were comfortable with each other, maybe a little too much on your end. Since that moment with Shemar and his outburst, the tenseness never seemed to dissipate completely. The two of you had shared some quick glances while he was filming a scene or while you were navigating the complex maze that was this sound stage. Whenever the two of you were near each other, he always appeared to go out of his way to get some kind of contact with you, whether it was his shoulder rubbing against yours or his fingers brushing yours as he passed by you. You, still in the mindset that someone as amazing and talented as him would never want anything to do you with you, didn’t really think much of his actions, simply playing them off as accidents and coincidences.

Although you caught him staring at you on more than one occasion during your time there, you definitely spent the majority of your time ogling the fine specimen. You didn’t understand how a person could be so perfect. Seemingly no flaws. Sure, you had known pretty much every fun fact about the man when you had arrived on set a couple days ago, but now that you had spent some time with him, you were even more enamored. Matthew was an enigma and you wanted him. So fucking bad. Unfortunately, so did basically every other girl on the planet. You really shouldn’t be wasting so much time thinking about him, but at this point you were just in too deep. Watching him do his thing on the sound stage was like watching your own personal exhibition, so much talent pouring out of him he shouldn’t have even been allowed to do what he does. The world would certainly be a lot darker without his geniusness though so you supposed it was ok. As the scene you had been watching came to a close, you decided you really wanted to talk to Matthew again, missing the sound of his velvety voice as he focused on you and only you during the few conversations you’d gotten to have so far. Just as you were about to reach him, though, Khalia appeared out of nowhere directly in front of him with the same look in her eyes she had given him your first day on set. Hunger. You didn’t really know what to do now so you just kind of stood there watching the interaction. The conversation was just out of range, but you could tell she had said something that had made them both laugh. You also watched her place her hands on him in a very flirty way. And much to your dismay, he didn’t seem to be that bothered by it.

You knew that you had absolutely no right to be jealous of her advances, seeing there was nothing between the two of you, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. You had known all along that he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for you, but the cold, hard truth being presented on a silver platter right in your face sucked. A whole hell of a lot. Deciding to leave the two of them to enjoy their moment, you turned and made your way to the snack table on the opposite side of the room. As you got closer, you noticed Shemar lingering around it, seemingly snacking on something among the array of treats presented on the table.

“Hey. Nice to see you again”, you said with a small smile, alerting him of your presence.

You had gotten a bit closer to him over the last few days, getting to know more about him, rather than just his character. He was a really nice guy. Very charming, much like his TV counterpart.

“Y/N! Hey! How are you today?”

“I’m ok. Not one of the best, but hey I’m alive I guess”, you said with a sad smile. Worry quickly spreading across his face, he pulled you into a hug, gently caressing your back.

“Hey don’t say that babydoll. It might not be the best of days, but everyday is worth living in my eyes. We’re all so lucky to be given the chance to be here so why not say fuck it and make everyday a party.” You pulled away from him chuckling at his words, feeling slightly better than you had before. You were grateful for Shemar helping you out when you needed a mood boost.

“Thanks Shemar. You sure know how to make a girl feel better.”

“Anytime baby girl”, he said with a wink, making you giggle again at his silly nicknames and behavior towards you. A little bit more at ease, you let your eyes survey the room real quick, eventually landing on Matthew. A very angry and annoyed looking Matthew. He was staring directly at the two of you, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his breathing heavy, his eyes as dark as could be. Less than a minute later, he turned around and stormed off in the direction of what you assumed was his trailer. Quickly focusing on Shemar again, you excused yourself and then immediately ran off in the direction he had headed just moments before.

You were able to locate the trailer simply labeled “MGG” fairly quickly and you cautiously approached the steps leading up to the entrance. Would he even want to see you? Why were you special enough to even be this close to his trailer? Before you could second guess yourself anymore, you speedily climbed the steps and knocked on the door, an action based solely on the fact he was without a doubt upset about something and apparently it was your fault to some degree.

You heard some rustling behind the door before his voice rang out.

“Who is it?”

Shit. He sounded really upset. Pushing aside the anxiety bubbling in your chest, you decided that you were curious more than anything and wanted to know what you had done to get his panties in such a twist.

“I-It’s Y/N.”

Immediately the door swung open, making you jump slightly. Without saying a word, he grabbed your arm and dragged you over the threshold, handling you like a rag-doll. Once you were inside he released your arm and began pacing around the trailer, breathing pretty heavily. Maybe it was a mistake coming here. You thought you should probably go and leave him alone for a bit so he could cool off.

“I-I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll leave you be”, you sputtered out, quickly making your way towards the exit. However, before you could even reach the door, his deep voice echoed through the trailer.

“Why did you let him touch you like that?”

You froze mid-step, unsure of how to respond. “Huh?” Wow, nice going Y/N. Really scraped the dictionaries for that one.

“Shemar. Why did you let him put his hands on you and touch you like that?” As he spoke his question, he slowly moved towards you, like a predator eyeing its prey. What was he talking about? Why did he care that you and Shemar had shared a brief hug? And most perplexing of all, why in the hell was he looking at you with such fire in his eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you mean Matthew.”

After his name fell from your lips, you saw his mouth twitch as he moved to close the gap between the two of you, leaving just enough space that your breaths intermingled, but no actual physical contact was occuring.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You. Are. Mine.” What did he just say? Were you imagining this whole situation in some sick dream of yours? Your brain was struggling to catch up.

“What are you even talki-.”

Before you could finish your sentence, Matthew had surged forward, clashing his mouth against yours, hungrily devouring your lips like they were his favorite meal. You moaned at the contact, letting the shock envelope your entire body. He was ravenous, tongue pressing against your lips, begging for entry. Finally processing what the hell was happening, your mouth quickly opened and welcomed his needy tongue, feeling it tangle with yours as he released the most delicious moan you had ever heard in all the years you had been alive. His hands moved frantically, hastily ripping at the clothes covering your body, desperate to feel any part of you that he could.

You couldn’t even comprehend how this was happening. Matthew wanted you? Not only did he want you, but he was acting on it too. Fuck. He had said you were his. Did he really mean that?

Breaking away from your lips to pull your blouse over your head, you could’ve sworn you heard a growl escape his throat as his eyes hungrily drank in your appearance, left only in your bra and panties. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. How are you so fucking hot?” Holy shit. The pure lust that dripped in his words made your legs feel like Jell-O, barely keeping it together as he shed his own shirt and began unbuckling his belt. Apparently that was what caused the wire in your brain to snap, your body surging forward to reconnect your lips and rake your nails down his chest.

“Please Matthew”, you whined, not even entirely sure what you wanted him to do. You just needed more.

Groaning at the desperation evident in your voice, he let his hand drift down your body, toying with the waistband of your panties. “Please what? What do you want from me, sweetheart?” His words made you whimper, grasping his hand to try and maneuver it underneath the damp fabric covering the place you needed him most.

“Uh uh uh. I want you to use your words princess. You can do that for me can’t you?”

Nodding your head fervently, you pushed aside any embarrassment you felt and answered almost immediately as the words left his mouth. “I want you to touch me! Please Matthew, I’m begging you!” As soon as you finished your desperate plea, his nimble fingers had ripped your panties down your legs and he was guiding you towards the couch conveniently located nearby. The two of you stumbled onto the cushions, Matthew hovering over you pinning you down, his large erection pressing into your thigh through his pants. You choked on a breath as one of his long, narrow fingers entered you swiftly, pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace, soon followed by two more. You were a whimpering mess as Matthew had his way with you, perfectly curling his fingers to hit your special spot over and over again. You needed him inside of you now or you were gonna explode.

“You’re so wet sweetheart. This all for me”, he questioned cockily, savoring the sounds pouring from your lips, cherishing the way your body writhed underneath his.

“Yes Matthew! It’s all for you. Only you”, your words were accompanied by a long, drawn out moan.

“Good girl”, he growled as his fingers picked up their pace, pushing you dangerously close to the edge. Matthew must have picked up on the fact based on the way your muscles were clenching around his digits and the way your breath was becoming more and more labored.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me, little girl. Come all over my fingers.” His graphic words made your eyes roll back in your head as you felt your orgasm crash through your body, Matthew continuing his ministrations throughout the entirety of it. As you came down from your high and opened your eyes, you were met with the beautiful vision of Matthew sucking your juices off of himself, staring intently at you with lust-filled eyes. “Mmmm, so fucking sweet baby”, he moaned as he licked the last bit away. Realizing you simply couldn’t wait any longer, you grabbed onto his forearm, pulling him to you as close as physically possible.

“Matthew I need you inside of me right now. Please. Please, I need you.” You felt like you were on the verge of crying, you were so damn desperate for him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes instantly darkened even more after hearing you beg him to fuck you so viscerally.

“Baby, I really want to feel you bouncing on my cock. Can you do that? Can you ride me like a good girl, sweetheart?”

Not even bothering to answer his questioning, you mustered up all of your strength to push him up and off of you, allowing yourself to straddle him on one of the cushions. You made quick work unzipping his pants and signalling for him to lift up his hips, allowing you to hastily pull down both his slacks and boxers in one go. God, you were so fucking horny and needy for the man in front of you, you felt like you were going insane. Actually, scratch that. You were already long gone. Finally having removed the last barrier between the two of you, his strong hands grabbed your hips and positioned you over his throbbing cock, slowly letting you lower yourself down. Both of you released matching groans at the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck, princess. You feel so fucking amazing”, he moaned before gently grasping your hips, encouraging you to start moving. You couldn’t control the string of whimpers that escaped your mouth as you started circling your hips, gradually picking up your pace. It felt so fucking good, incomparible to anything you had ever felt before. As your speed increased and he began thrusting upwards to meet you, his hands reached behind you, finding the clasp of your bra, practically ripping the garment off of your body. Without any barrier blocking your breasts, he sat back and ogled you as they bounced in sync with your rapid movements, eventually needing more and grabbing the pillowy flesh with his wandering hands. The stimulation only made you move faster, desperate for the addicting friction that you could feel radiating throughout your whole being. You felt Matthew’s grip on your hips tighten exponentially, in order to get your undivided attention.

“I bet you thought you looked real cute flirting with him like that, didn’t you princess”, he sputtered, his voice strained and hoarse. The sound of it made your insides quiver even more.

“I-I wasn’t f-flirting. I w-was just being n-nice”, you stammered, feeling your climax slowly building more and more with each thrust. He growled and immediately picked up the pace, speaking his next words clearly for you to understand. “That’s bullshit baby and you know it. Do you really think he could fuck you like this, sweetheart? Do you think his cock could fill you up this perfectly? Make you feel the way I do?”

“N-Noooo! No, of course not. I only want you!” You were a moaning, whimpering mess as you gripped his shoulders trying to maintain your balance, his thrusts launching you into a whole other universe. “What was that, little girl? I couldn’t really hear you.”

“Fuck! Matthew! I only want you! There’s no one else!” You couldn’t control yourself any longer. You lost the ability to move as he wrapped his arms around your waist, slamming into you so fucking hard you swore you could see stars.

“There better fucking not be, little girl. You are mine, sweetheart. All fucking mine. Mine!” His words make the chord in your stomach snap, your climax overtaking your body dangerously fast. “MATTHEW!” Your vision was spotty, muscles clenched incredibly tight, when you felt his cock start to twitch violently inside of you.

“Fuck! Y/N! Oh my god!” As soon as the words left his mouth, you felt his cum fill you up completely, warmth radiating throughout your body as his dick pulsated inside of you.

You collapsed against his sweaty frame, holding on for dear life. “Matthew, Matthew, Matthew”, you muttered as you fought to regulate your breathing. Both of you were shaking, thanks to the world-shattering orgasams you had just experienced, his hands gently rubbing your back, soothing you. “Shhhhhh, breathe little girl”, he whispered so warmly it made butterflies bloom in your stomach, a stark contrast to the way he was speaking moments ago.

Pulling yourself upright, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. After a few seconds had passed, a huge grin slowly formed on his beautiful face, letting out a light giggle. “Hey.”

Feeling a smile form on your own face from his silliness, you couldn’t help but fall for him even more. “Hi”, you shyly responded, reaching up to poke the dimple that was visible on his face, giggling when he playfully stuck his tongue out, trying to reach your finger with it. Completely absorbed in the moment, you had forgotten that he was still inside of you and you were probably hurting him, not that he was gonna complain. You slowly lifted yourself off of him, both of you wincing slightly at the sensation. He immediately pulled you back to him afterwards and continued to rub your back like he had before. It was so comforting, you were scared you were gonna fall asleep in his lap, which you pretty quickly concluded wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, noticing the way his eyes seemed to droop as well.

As you felt yourself starting to drift off, you heard his soothing voice near your ear. “I’m really sorry I got so rough Y/N. I didn’t mean to act like that. I just got so jealous seeing you with him and I didn’t know how to control my emotions. I didn’t know how to tell you how I felt.” He sounded genuinely sad when he spoke, the guilt evident in his quiet voice.

“Matthew, baby, don’t be sorry, ok? I really enjoyed every second of it, I promise. As for Shemar...you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’ve only ever had eyes for you. You’re kind of stuck with me Gube.” You felt the chuckle vibrate through his body at your words and you lazily smiled against his chest.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” You heard him hesitate and you wondered if he was going to finish his thought, hopefully before you knocked out cold. “Would you-would you maybe want to go out with me this weekend? Like on a-a date? You felt your heart swell in your chest at his question and slowly nodded against him.

“I would love that, Matthew.”

Cherishing the feeling of holding each other in your arms, the two of you quickly succumbed to the drowsiness, falling into the most comfortable slumber you had ever experienced.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @victomizedbyreginageorge

#cm fic #criminal minds fic #mgg #mgg fic #mgg smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #matthewgraygubler #matthewgraygublersmut #criminal minds smut #smut #fluff #jealousy #angst

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

like blood underneath your fingernails

Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.

The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best

OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.

Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations

read on ao3!

He cannot close his eyes.

Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team.

He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again.

He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.

He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.

He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.

He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.

It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.

He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.

The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.

A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.

Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.

The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.

Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.

He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.

Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.

But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.

He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.

One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.

He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave.

Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.

A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day.

He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago.

They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.

Even if they don't all approve.

"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."

"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.

"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly.

The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.

"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.

Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.

"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran.

He isn't going to let that happen again.

"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."

"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says.

Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."

"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.

"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with.

But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic

It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.

Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.

Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.

"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.

"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.

"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"

Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."

"Why are you lying to me?"

He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."

"So you want to protect me?"

Derek nods. "I guess."

"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.

Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.

He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.

When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.

He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.

He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.

"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.

Aaron just nods. "Thank you."

"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.

Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."

Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue.

"I know you won't."

Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.

"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."

It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.

He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."

Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."

"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."

He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.

"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"

Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”

Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”

Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.

He doesn��t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.

Or as settled as he would ever be.

It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic.

“No,” Derek says.

“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”

He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.

They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.

Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.

When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.

They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.

And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.

“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.

Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”

Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.

"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.

The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.

"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.

"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.

JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.

"What happened after?" she prompts.

Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.

"Aaron," Derek says.

"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."

Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.

"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.

"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."

"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.

"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."

Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."

He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”

“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."

"Show off," Derek teases.

Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.

This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”

“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”

He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”

“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”

“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.

He finds Dave in the bathroom.

“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.

“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”

“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.

“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.

“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”

Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.

“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.

Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.

"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.

"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.

"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.

There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.

He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.

The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.

“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.

Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.

“Hotch,” he repeats.

“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”

“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.

For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.

He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?

Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.

“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.

For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.

“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.

“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.

“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.

“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.

"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.

When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.

There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.

Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.

He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.

They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.

But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.

The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face?

How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston?

When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.

"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.

He sighs to himself.

The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow.

"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.

Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."

No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.

Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.

Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.

When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.

Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.

Their break comes the next morning.

Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.

The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is holding a gun because he is on a case.

The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.

The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now.

"Let her go," JJ commands softly.

"No," their unsub says.

What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?

"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.

The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.

"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."

This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him.

"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.

The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"

Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."

He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"

"I won't."

"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.

Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.

"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.

"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."

Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member.

He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.

The man smirks.

Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.

It's Peter Lewis.

"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.

He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.

"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.

Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.

Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.

Aaron closes his eyes.

He hears his name.

He tastes copper.

He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.

He sees Derek's terrified face.

He smells sage.

He smells sage. And then the world goes black.

When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real.

He opens his eyes. The team is gone.

And he is covered in blood.

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

Jensen Ackles: Oops (Request)

Pairing: Jensen x actress!Reader

Pov: Jensen

Summary: Y/n is an actress on SPN and Jensen and Y/n are dating, while she was doing a stunt she get serverly injured.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mini fight between Y/n and Jensen, Jensen have Jealousy

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Taglist: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl

Y/n had been casted on Supernatural. It was okay she was an amazing actress; I was just hoping that it wouldn't affect our relationship. It’s not like anyone else knew about our relationship, we had tried our hardest to keep it pretty low-key.

We hadn’t made it official by any means, which meant I really didn’t have any right to get mad and be protective over Y/n. When Y/n and Jared were casted to be each other love interest. Y/n gave me that look that meant ‘it’s okay, we’ll get through it’ she’d been giving me that look for the past days.

It was hard seeing Jared and Y/n sit close together and go over lines. His arm slinging over her shoulder. I had distanced myself, taking in my trailer. Going over lines by myself. I heard a knock at my door, assuming it was my PA, but in came Y/n. Dressed in a pair of tight jeans, a pair of boots on, and a flannel on.

“Jay, are you okay?” She asked before coming over and sitting down with me. I stayed looking at the dialogue realizing that I really wasn’t taking in any of the words. “Jay?” She said again. This time grabbing my hand instead, “Jay? I asked you a question.” She spoke.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I... I just got. I was just in my head for a minute.” I said wishing that she’d take that for an answer. “Look I know that’s bullshit. You’ve been ignoring me, and Jared since you found out that I was going to be his love interest.” She spoke.

Something that Y/n could always, catch me in my bed of sort of lies. Catch me when I wasn’t being upfront with her. “Y/n, I don’t know what to tell you okay. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong. I just giving you some space to get to know Jared. Everything is fine okay Y/n.” I said getting up and opening my trailer door.

“Jensen?!” She spoke. We looked at each other, and then Y/n got up and walked in front of me, and finally out of the trailer. I stayed away still, not trying to convince Y/n of anything. Letting her assume rather than just tell how I was feeling.

This lasted for I'd say at least 3 days. She’d call and leave a voicemail. Text me. Everything I’d ignore. By the start of the new week, now starting to do the scenes. I had to let it all go, there were scenes with Jared I had to do. Our conversation short, and mostly everything was done in one or two shots.

The next scene was supposed to be a difficult one for Y/n. This was her first stunt. It was like watching your child take their steps. As she talked to the director, I did stay close. The worry of her getting hurt was overpowering, I could for a few minutes ignore the way that the jealousy of Jared and Y/n being together in the show.

Before starting Y/n wanted to talk to me. She grabbed my crossed arms and brought me to my trailer. She brought me to the tiny kitchen table. She sat down in front of me, “Jay. I know you are still upset. And no I’m trying to fight with you before I go do a stunt. I just want you to know that I care about your opinion. So I plan on talking to the writers and see if I can be casted as your love interest instead.” Y/n said before standing back up and giving me a short cheek kiss.

She walked out and back to the “bunker”. I followed, not hot on tail. But there just in case. You ever have a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen. That’s all I could get from the minute I walked onto the set.

I watched Y/n climb up the stairs and right to the railing of the balcony. The director called for the scene to beginning. Y/n jumped over the rail and landed the right way, but the director didn’t really like how she had landed on her feet. I could feel my brow come down a little on my face.

‘She did perfectly fine. Actually, that was amazing, see her fall down. In my head she fell so gracefully, and in slow motion.’ I thought to myself. Y/n made it back up the stairs and to the railing, this time when the director called for the scene to start, I again saw Y/n fall in slow motion.

But this was different as she fell, she moved her body, when she fell, she missed the couching. Hitting the hard floor, and I could barely see it. But she had bent her ankle.

In a matter of seconds that feeling that I had to go over to see her, comfort her was there. That feeling that something was going to happen was right. It took a minute before any noise was made, I saw the director get up from his chair and then Y/n cried out.

“Jensen, please come here!” I perked up at the sound of my name, and ran over. Y/n had her hand covering over foot. I sat down next to her, shooing a few stray people away. Giving her and I more privacy.

“Y/n? You got to move your hand so I can look at your foot.” I said rubbing a circle into her back. “No Jensen, please don... Don't make me” She said, a few stray tears falling down her face. This was the first time I had seen Y/n cry. It was something I had planned on never seeing, something that was breaking my heart.

“Honey, I have to. I promise I’ll be very careful.” I moved down to her foot. She shook her head and closed her eyes. I started slowly unlacing the boots and slowly pulling the boots off her boots. As I pulled her foot out of the boots, I could see how gnarly it really was.

Y/n ankle bone poking out of her sock. ‘Shit’ I thought to myself. Waving the director over. “Please call 911. I think her foot is broken.” I said before returning my attention back to her. “It’s okay baby. Just breathe. We have to wait for the ambulance to get here. You fell pretty hard on it, I’m thinking that you broke it.” I said unlacing the other foot and sliding that shoe off as well.

We sat together, Y/n head resting on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jensen.” She said, I turned my head looking over at her. “Why are you saying sorry?” I asked. “I’m saying sorry. Because I just... I just need to hear you say that it’s okay.” She spoke. Starting to play with the hem of my shirt.

“It’s okay Y/n I promise. It will be okay.” I said as I heard the sirens of the ambulance. Before the EMT’s got to her I asked her “Do you want me to come with you?” She shook her head quickly, and then the EMT’s were there, I slid out and let them figure out what they needed to do with her.

I quickly ran to my trailer grabbing my phone, then to Y/n’s grabbing her bag and her phone. One EMT brought back a gunnery and lifting her up and gently placing her onto the gunnery. I walked out with her, climbing into the ambulance with her.

“Thank you for grabbing my things, Jensen.” She said, “Of course I’d grab your things Y/n” She closed her eyes and smiled. Out of panic and love for her I blurted out “I love you, Y/n” A shocked expression fell over my face as the words I had just said computed into my brain. But before I could get anything out Y/n said “I love you too Jensen.” Grabbing my hand and drawing tiny circles on my knuckles with her thumb.

I bent over and kissed her temple gently. “God, I love you, Y/n. I'm sorry I got so jealousy about you had Jared being together on the show. Just thought I was going to lose my girl.... If I'm allowed to call you that?” I spoke.

Smiling Y/n said “It’s okay. I understand now. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, baby. And of course, I'll be your girl.” She pulled my arm down and kissed me, our lips melting together like we were made for each other.

Completed: 02/25/2021

#Jensen Ackles #jensen fanfic #jensen x reader #jensengirl #feminine #fem reader #fem #jensen x you #jensen x female!reader #supernatural #anon request #anon

61 notes · View notes

kaalamarii · 4 years

Note

How would the brothers and Diavolo react to an s/o that is usually really chill, but when she gets angry, she could even rival Satan?

Thanks for being my very first request!

I don’t think I followed your prompt completely, but I tried to at least stay close. I didn’t do Diavolo cause I’m not super confident in writing him yet. 😳

Hope you still like it!

Lucifer

Lucifer basically lives with a bunch of children, so you being easy going is a breath of fresh air for him.

You didn’t bother him as he worked late in his study, often leaving you to yourself in his bedroom to wait for him.

Still, you worried about him.

You’d tell him he needed more sleep or that he was working too much.

He’d brush you off which kind of annoyed you but you knew there was no use arguing with the demon.

You were super happy one weekend when you woke up, surprised to see him still in bed with you.

“You’re usually up by now, working.”

He nodded. “Diavolo wanted me to take a break this weekend. He said I was overworking myself.”

Lucifer went to kiss you but you moved away. “Hold up.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“I’ve been telling you that for weeks and you basically tell me to fuck off…

But now when Diavolo says the same thing you listen?”

He laughs. “Well, yes, I answer to Diavolo. You’re just a human, you don’t know anything.”

You scoff. You shouldn’t be surprised by his douchebaggery but you are.

“You’re such a dick sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes and you get out of bed, huffing around the room as you get dressed.

“Really, MC, can you quit being so dramatic?”

You glare so intensely at him that it’s amazing you didn’t burn holes into him.

“Fuck you.”

Lucifer wants to punish you for your rudeness, but he can’t help but smirk. You’re pretty adorable right now.

He lays back in bed, knowing you’ll be back soon.

Mammon

You’re always up for Mammon’s crazy adventures. You’re like his sidekick, sitting back and letting him do his thing.

When things go wrong, you don’t make fun of him, call him a moron, or anything. You just smile at him and comfort him.

He crosses a line one day when you come home to find him in your bedroom, going through your stuff. He has a very special family heirloom of yours in his hand and you know his plans for it.

Mammon is instantly stuttering, trying to find some excuse for why he has your stuff in his hand. “H-hey babe. I was just missing you and wanting somethin’ of yours to remind me of you!”

You’re having none of it.

Your face turns red, and your eyes are like daggers coming for him.

“I know you are not thinking of selling my shit.”

You back the stuttering demon into a corner, hand reached out.

“Give it back. Now.”

Mammon looks around, refusing to meet your eyes. Damn, this human is scary.

“Mammon, give it back!” You reach over to snatch it out of his hand.

Mammon yelps and drops it, pushing past you and running out of your room.

Later when you’ve calmed down a bit you get a text from Lucifer. “The issue has been dealt with.”

He sends a picture of Mammon hanging upside down from the ceiling.

Usually you feel bad when this happens, but right now, you laugh.

Serves him right.

Leviathan

Levi loves that you’re so low maintenance.The two of you can play games or just chill and watch anime together. The two of you are happy doing your own things.

The first time he sees you angry, he’s in his bathtub reading manga while you’re playing some game on one of his consoles. You’re having a difficult time fighting a particular boss and doing your best to stay patient.

It doesn’t last long.

You let out a loud, “WHAT THE FUCK!” as you lose once again, violently throwing the controller down.

Levi jumps.

You are fuming, balling your hands up into fists, your knuckles turning white.

He stares at you, mouth open, face pink, frozen. He doesn’t know what to do.

He looks to the controller on the floor, then back at you, annoyance on his face.

“Heyyyy! You could’ve broken my controller!”

You glare at him and he shrinks into his tub, hiding his face in his manga. You’re too angry to feel bad right now, and you’ve seen him throw it around several times.

You’re breathing heavily. Levi gets out of his tub and wraps you in his arms.

“Let me join the game. We’ll beat him together.”

Satan

Obviously Satan is the angry one between the two of you.

You often have to calm him down when he is upset.

You’re the perfect balance to his wrath, he thinks.

Until the first time he sees yours.

He had been in an argument with Lucifer and took it out on you, snapping at you for some ridiculous reason.

He’s been an asshole all day because of his fight with Lucifer, and you’ve tried your best to not take it personally. But for whatever reason, his comment sends you over the edge.

You suddenly let out a loud growl and reach over, slapping him across the face.

Satan instantly puts his hand up to his cheek, over your fingerprints. He is looking at you, wide eyed.

His shock wears off quickly, replaced with anger. His horns come out.

To be honest, you’re really scared. But too upset to back down.

“Next time you want to do that, reconsider.”

He’s towered over you despite not being too much taller than you.

“The next time you want to talk shit, reconsider.”

Satan’s face softens and he actually laughs.

He might be the Avatar of Wrath, but he can’t stay mad at you. He admires your stupidity bravery.

“Consider us even.”

Asmodeus

Asmo loves that you’re so easy going. You let him get flirty and snuggly with you. He feels completely loved and accepted with you.

You’re pretty understanding when the two of you go out somewhere and he is crowded by admirers and you don’t complain when he eats it up and flirts back a bit.

One night Asmo’s looking especially gorgeous and somebody steals him away from you to drink and dance with him.

You’re used to being the third wheel of your own relationship and you don’t usually take it personally. You knew going in that Asmo loved attention and agreed not to get in the way as long as he remained respectful of the relationship.

He’s usually pretty good at stopping his fans when they get too handsy but right now he’s a bit too drunk.

You cross your arms, watching some random succubus grinding with your man. You wait patiently for him to put a stop to it.

When she kisses him, you see red.

You basically run over, shoving her off of Asmo.

“Back. the. Fuck. up.”

As much as Asmo wants to watch you fight for him, he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He grabs you, pulling you away as you flail your arms and legs, trying to release yourself and go after the succubus.

He sets you down once you’re outside.

You’re still fuming, pacing back and forward. You’re yelling at him, reminding him of the boundaries the two of you set when you agreed to be with him.

He doesn’t hear you because he’s drunk and he’s so enamored with how adorable you look.

Also, he’s flattered that you’re so jealous.

Beelzebub

Beel finds you sweet and funny and easy to talk to.

You share your food with him. You even let him have the bigger half.

One day in the kitchen, you are making cookies. It’s a special recipe that’s been passed down through generations of your family. Beel is so ready for them, sitting and waiting for them to be done baking.

You pull them out of the oven and the demon drools. “Those look and smell so good.”

“You can have some if you want.”

“Thanks, MC.”

You turn to wash your hands and start cleaning up the flour and other ingredients that may have fallen onto the floor and counter.

You hear a crash and turn back to see the cookie sheet on the floor and Beel with a mouth full.

“Did you eat all of them?”

He smiles. “They were delicious!”

You know it’s a bit petty, but you can’t help but feel a bit of rage take over you.

“But I didn’t even get any…” Your voice is low, super low.

Beel looks at you, confused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You stomp your foot, basically throwing a fucking tantrum, your eyes tearing up. “You freaked out and destroyed the kitchen AND my room when we had your custard but I don’t even get a bite of the cookies that I made?!”

Beel frowns. He understands why you’re angry and he hates that he’s the reason.

“I’ll help you make some more,” he tells you once you’re cool enough to listen to him. “I won’t eat any of them, I promise.”

You take him up on his offer and although it’s hard for him, he sticks to his word.

You’re impressed with his self control. “Okay, you can have one of mine.”

“Nah, they’re yours,” he says, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

Belphegor

Belphie was surprised by how well the two of you got along, considering he lied to you from your first meeting…

And, you know, he straight up fucking killed you.

The two of you had grown closer and closer, and he could often be found snuggling up to you and napping with his head resting on you.

Still, he noticed you still got tense when the two of you were intimate.

He tried to be understanding, but it hurt.

One night the two of you were on your bed, kissing. You seemed to be relaxed, so he crept his hand up your shirt.

You didn’t mean to, but you jumped.

Though you did want him to touch you, you couldn’t help but have flashbacks of the night he killed you when you felt his hands on you.

Belphie sighed, pulling away from you. “You still don’t trust me!”

“Belphie…” you groaned, putting a hand on your head. “Please, can we not do this right now.”

“If we’re going to be together, we should talk about this, right?”

You rolled your eyes and sat up to face him. “You really want to talk about that?”

He nods. “You’re still so awkward around me.”

You scoffed. “Are you kidding me? You lied to me from the beginning and you fucking KILLED me.”

“Then why are we even trying to be together?”

Ugh, you found him so attractive but he pissed you off so much sometimes.

You stand up, opening your door. “Leave.”

“MC…”

He comes over to you, trying to hug you. You push him away.

“Fuck off, Belphegor!”

It was mean. It was inappropriate. But you didn’t care. You weren’t ready to talk to him and you obviously weren’t ready to be in a relationship with him.

Belphie sighed, leaving to go back to his room.

He was hurt but he was willing to wait for you. In the meantime, he’d be patient and give you space.

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obswd

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Virtue & Valor [3]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

You and your husband have the perfect life. Jobs that you love, a happy marriage, an amazing sex life… You couldn’t ask for anything more. But when something unexpected shows up on your front doorstep that completely turns your world upside down, can your relationship survive the fallout? Or will you have to let your feelings go in favor of the greater good? Letting go of the past can be difficult, especially when the future looks so bleak, but maybe you can figure out how to move forward together. You may just make it out to see the other side.

Word Count: 4334

Warnings: Canon typical violence, strong language, Hydra fuckery,

“20 minutes from the drop site.”

You look up from the tablet with the mission file that you’d been reading as you stand at the back of the jet. The other agents start to move, grabbing their gear, tucking various weapons into different straps and harnesses across their bodies.

“How does it feel to be back out of the ice, Cap,” one of the agents asks, a twisted smile on his lips as he slaps a hand to the Captain’s shoulder. “You’d been in there quite a while. What was it like? Did you ever dream while you were in there or is it just completely blank in there the whole time?” he taps a finger to the Captain's temple.

“Do you ever shut up, Rumlow?” you question in annoyance. The Captain doesn’t respond to the questions, just continues to look forward as if he hasn’t heard anything.

Rumlow turns his gaze to you, that ever-present smirk still on his mouth as he scoffs. “How’s it going with the Misses, over there?” he asks the Captain with a jerk of his thumb in your direction. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having a handler as hot as that one. I bet she takes real good care of you, doesn’t she?”

You roll your eyes at his childish antics. “Come, Soldat. It’s time to gear up.”

“Mommy’s calling,” Rumlow teases, slipping his hand off the Captain’s shoulder.

The Captain moves fluidly, like a shadow in the night, as he steps over to you to grab his gear. His black tactical uniform allows him to blend in with the other agents. There’s just one obvious difference between his uniform and theirs. The blood-red logo on the center of his chest grabs your attention. The black, soulless eyes of the skull look back at you in the same way the Captain’s eyes do. Tentacles curl out from underneath the skull, like writhing snakes.

“Ya gotov otvechat,” the Captain tells you, his voice cracked and hollow, as he stands at attention. Ready to comply.

You feel empty inside as your response tumbles passed your lips. “Hail Hydra.”

You wake with a start to the sound of a knock on your bedroom door. You sit up a little blearily and wipe at your eyes. “Come in,” you respond, briefly wondering why Steve would knock on his own bedroom door.

However, Steve isn’t the one that steps into the room. It’s the redhead. Natasha.

You swing your feet over the side of the bed and stand up, eyeing her warily.

She raises her hands up as a sign of coming in peace. “We’re not here to hurt you,” she tells you. “We only want to help.”

“Help?” you repeat with a scoff. “You think that telling me my marriage is a lie is going to help?”

“Hydra is keeping you complicit by feeding you a fantasy. Only the truth can set you free. You have to trust me on this,” she urges.

“Well, I don’t trust you.”

“You did once before.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stands her ground. “You and I have known each other for a long time.” You slowly walk around the bed, taking your place in front of her and mimic her pose. “We trained together when I first got to SHIELD.”

“I’ve never worked for any SHIELD. I’m just a PE teacher,” you insist.

She raises a brow as the corner of her mouth tilts. “I’ve never heard of any PE teachers that teach Mixed Martial Arts to a bunch of teenagers.”

You frown, wondering what else Steve has told these people.

“Hydra built you the picture-perfect life. Mixing just enough of your base personality with new memories and a happily-ever-after storyline to keep you from questioning your reality. You know that this isn’t right. You know that the picture is photoshopped. You just have to be willing to accept it.”

You don’t give her a response, so she keeps going.

“Sam and I are only guests here. We can’t navigate this world the way you and Steve potentially can, but you have to be willing to take back your control. If Hydra has been able to do all of this to your mind, imagine what they’re doing to your body! The longer it takes for you to wake up the more powerful their grasp on you becomes.”

“Enough!” you shout. You dart forward, not even thinking about what you’re doing. Grabbing her by the side of the neck and shoulder, you slam her face-first onto the mattress. Before she can react, your hand dives underneath her shirt, grasping the handle of the gun that’s tucked into the back of her jeans. You then jump back, holding the gun with deadly accuracy at her head.

She raises her hands in surrender as she slowly straightens back up, now eyeing you warily.

Your breathing comes out in heavy puffs, but your hands remain steady as adrenaline surges through you. It takes a couple more seconds before your mind finally catches up with your actions. You take a stumbling step back, arms lowering slightly. “How- How did I know you had this gun on you? How did I even do that?”

“Because we’ve been training together for years,” she tells you calmly. “Because you’re an Avenger.”

“I’m not!” you argue, but your voice waivers. “I’m just me! I’ve never even held a gun before!”

“Then why does it feel so familiar?”

Your breath catches at her words. Because she’s right. It does feel familiar. And that terrifies you. Your hands tremble before you drop them completely. Your thumb moves on its own to click the safety back into place as if you’ve done it a thousand times.

“Val…” Natasha calls hesitantly.

“Get out,” you whisper brokenly.

“We only want to help-” she tries one more time.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!” you scream, flying into a rage so intense that your vision turns red.

“Okay,” Natasha responds softly, keeping her hands raised. She moves slowly so as not to startle you, even though you keep the gun lowered at your side. She backs out of the room and soon she’s out of your sight.

You choke on your next breath, the rage draining out of you and leaving behind an empty sort of ache. Your hold loosens on the gun and it falls with a dull thud to the carpet at your feet. “Oh my God…” you gasp out before covering your mouth. You feel like you’re going to be sick. Your body is shaking by the time the first sob forces its way out of your throat.

“Hey,” you hear his soft voice moments before Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his warm embrace.

You allow yourself to completely breakdown against him, the tears falling from your closed eyes and soaking into his shirt. He gently rocks you back and forth, running his hands soothingly over your back. You feel like your whole world has just cracked and it’s mere seconds away from completely shattering. You’re barely holding on by a thread.

You must cry until you’ve completely exhausted yourself because you don’t remember when the crying stopped, but you’re now waking up to the morning sunlight filtering in through the curtains. It takes a few blinks before you realize that something’s not right. Normally Steve would have woken you up by now.

You turn to look over your shoulder, but there’s an obvious lack of another body on the bed. In fact, both his pillow and the extra blanket that’s normally folded over the foot of the bed are missing, too. You frown, feeling that sense of dread pooling deep in your gut. Pushing yourself out from the warmth and general safety of the covers, you look for the strength needed to try to face whatever comes at you today.

You find yourself curling your arms over your stomach as you make your way down the hall as a means of self-comfort and protection. When you surpass the kitchen and head straight for the living room, you find Steve exactly where you expected. He’s standing in front of the couch, folding up the blanket from your bed.

“Why did you sleep out here?” you ask in a hushed voice as if talking any louder will ignite the tension that seems to weigh over you and will cause it to explode.

Steve keeps his gaze focused on his task, not even giving you a glance. “Had a lot on my mind. Didn’t want to keep you awake.”

You feel like a frayed piece of cloth that’s coming apart at the seams. Pulling on the thread just makes it unravel even more, but you can’t seem to stop it. “Steve, please tell me you don’t actually believe anything those people said yesterday,” you beg.

He releases a long sigh, setting the blanket down on top of his pillow. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” He finally lifts his gaze and meets yours.

You don’t like what you see. The seed of doubt has been planted inside of him and it’s had all night to grow. The uncertainty in his eyes cuts you to pieces like a thousand tiny daggers.

“Believe in us,” you tell him, your voice wavering emotionally. “Believe in the vows we took for each other.”

“And what if we didn’t really take them?” he cuts in.

Your lips tremble as you desperately fight for composure. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy if you were given the option?” you ask him the same question he asked you just yesterday.

His eyes turn sad and it makes your heart crack. “Not if the happiness is a lie.”

“Steve…” The crack in your heart splinters before it completely shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his gaze once more. As if the words will be enough to fix what’s just broken.

You want this to be a dream. Some sort of twisted nightmare. You want to wake up back in bed and back in his arms. To feel his sleepy morning kisses against your lips and his feather-light touch over your skin. You don’t want this. Whatever this is.

Before you can decide what you want to say next, there’s another knock on the front door. Steve must read the panic on your face as he moves to answer it. “It’s not them,” he tells you.

Your brow furrows as you wonder how he could possibly know that. You follow him to the hall, but hang back as he pulls open the door.

“Package for Steve Rogers,” says the delivery carrier on the other side of the door.

“That’s me,” Steve confirms taking the package from the man. He tucks it under his arm, giving a gentle thanks to the delivery man before closing the door.

“What is it?” you find yourself asking. It’s a relatively large, but flat box. Almost like a pizza box, but bigger.

Steve moves passed you toward the kitchen. “Natasha said they’d send something that could help restore our lost memories. Some type of data package.”

“A data package…” you repeat doubtfully. “That showed up as a box from a delivery guy… because we live in a computer…” You’re hoping the words sound as ridiculous to him as they do to you.

“Won’t know until we open it,” he shrugs, disregarding your tone. He sets the box down on the kitchen table and grabs a pair of scissors. He slices through the tape and lifts the top lid of the box.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting but it’s certainly not whatever you were looking at. “What is that?”

“It’s a shield,” Steve tells you, looking over the large circular disc. “Captain America’s shield.”

“How is that a data package?” you question. Every little thing seems to only raise more questions than answers.

“I’m not sure…” Steve takes a second to look it over before reaching forward to run his fingers over the white star in the center. He inhales sharply, his spine straightening as his eyes glaze over.

“Steve?” You call out, startled by the sudden change in him. You’re not sure if you should be doing something, but before you can take any sort of action, Steve rips his hand off the shield and stumbles back a few steps. “Are you okay?” you place your hand on his arm to help stabilize him.

He jolts away from your touch as if it burns. “I’m fine,” he gives a curt response in a tone you don’t recognize. “I remember the truth. I remember who we really are.”

When he finally meets your gaze, it’s not your husband that looks back at you. In fact, if his features weren’t so familiar to you, you’d think you were looking at a complete stranger. Gone is the soft, gentle, and sweet art teacher. In his place stands someone who’s hard, disciplined, and stoic.

“Steve…” you choke on his name, shaking your head. “Don’t. Please don’t do this.”

“It’s time to wake up, Val. Everything around us has been created and molded by Hydra. We can’t stay here any longer, but I can’t get you out of here until you fully understand what we’re up against.”

“No,” you deny. “That’s not possible! This isn’t a fake world! This is our home! This is our life!”

“Enough!” Steve insists, quickly growing annoyed with your denial. “None of this is real! You’re not my wife!”

You rear back as if he’d just slapped you.

Seeing the look on your face, Steve makes an attempt to soften his features. “Look, everything will make more sense after you touch the shield.”

“No!” you protest, taking several steps back and cross your arms over your chest as if you expect him to come at you and force you to touch it. “No, if this is what it’s done to you… then I don’t want that.”

“You can’t stay here forever!”

“Why not?!” You argue. “We were happy! Why can’t you just be happy with the way things were?”

“Because it was an illusion! A trick to keep us distracted from what’s really happening here.”

“Nothing is happening here, Steve! Except for you deciding to throw away our marriage because of two complete strangers that showed up at our doorstep!”

“They’re not strangers! And you would know that if you would just touch the God damn shield!”

The tension between you both has gone from a flickering flame to a full-on raging inferno. You can’t remember the last time the two of you have had such an explosive argument and that thought only seems to piss you off even more. You hate that any little blank space within your memory only seems to tip the scales of truth further toward Steve’s perspective.

“I won’t! I won’t touch it and I won’t give up on us!”

“Aren’t you listening?! There is no us! Not in the way that you think. Only in the way that Hydra made you believe. Everything we had was based on a lie. It’s nothing but a pretty piece of artwork created by someone as a means to keep us trapped here. There was no wedding, no honeymoon, no marriage. You can’t give up on something that was never there.”

“Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you feel absolutely nothing for me?” you challenge him. “Look me in the eye and tell me that because you now remember the so-called ‘truth’, all the nights we’ve spent wrapped in each other’s arms, every stolen kiss between class periods, every moment you were fucking inside me… is now completely meaningless to you. Tell me that none of that matters.”

“Val…” he winces like he’s in physical pain, some of the fight deflating out of him.

“Tell me, Steve,” you urge through clenched teeth. “Tell me I don’t matter.”

“You,” he starts before his voice falters. His jaw ticks as he tries to keep himself composed. “You are my responsibility. I got us into this mess and I’ll find a way to get us out. But I need you to be stronger than this. You’re an Avenger, so start acting like one.”

He squares his shoulders and moves to grab his wallet and keys from the bowl on the counter. His actions throw you for a loop as you stare after him when he makes his way toward the garage door. “Where are you going?” you ask in disbelief that he’s just walking out on this conversation.

He opens the door and glances briefly at you over his shoulder. “I need to clear my head.” The door closes behind him with a resounding slam. You next hear the mechanical whirring of the garage door opening moments before the rumbling purr of Steve’s motorcycle starts up. Soon he has become no more than a sound fading into the distance as he takes off and leaves you behind.

You can’t believe that he just left. The shock is slowly eaten away by the fire of rage within you. It bubbles and pops like molten lava as it feeds and grows on the frustration and pain that are also tumbling inside you. It builds and mixes into a volatile cocktail until you feel like you’re about to burst at the seams. Unable to keep these feelings inside you any longer, you erupt in a sharp scream of rage and swipe the box off the kitchen table.

The shield separates from the cardboard mid-air and clatters to the floor with a metallic twang. The sound, though not particularly loud, seems to slice straight through you. It’s a unique sound but is also somehow familiar to you. It seems to ring in your ears and bounce around your head.

You release a pitiful whine as you raise your hands to your ears in a vain attempt to make the sound stop before you crumble to your knees on the kitchen floor. The more you try to resist, the more your head begins to ache. “No…” you squeeze your eyes tight and shake your head, willing the sound to leave you alone. “Stop,” you beg. “I don’t want this.”

You envision brief glimpses of the shield flying through the air before it collides with various objects and releases that same twang. The shield is so clear in your mind, but everything else from the memories seems to be just out of reach. You can’t let go of the deeply seeded feeling that these truly are memories, though. Your memories.

Your eyes snap open as you release a startled gasp. Your eyes land once more on the shield where it rests just a few paces away from you. You’re not sure how much time passes as you sit on the kitchen floor just staring at it in a battle of wills. You almost feel like you’re getting drawn in by it. Compelled to just reach out and touch it, despite how much you really don’t want to.

Like following a whisper in the back of your mind, you find yourself inching closer. You’re not even sure if you’ve blinked the entire time as you come to a stop with your hand stretched over the shield. You pause and find yourself hesitating. You know that there’s no going back once you’ve touched it. You can continue to stay in this blissful ignorance, but without Steve, there’s nothing left for you here.

At least after you’ve touched it you know that you’ll get to go where ever he’s going. Maybe you can do something to salvage what’s left of your tattered relationship.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly, though you’re not entirely sure who it’s meant for. Be it, your broken heart, or maybe just as a goodbye to the life that you thought you could have here.

You close your eyes, allowing a single tear to slide down your cheek before you press your hand down onto the cold metal.

Images flash in lightning speed across your closed eyelids. You thought it might play out in your mind like a movie on fast forward, but it doesn’t. It’s more like small snippets here and there in no particular order. You see Steve in his Captain America suit, jumping out of the back of a plane. You see Natasha in an all-black stealth suit taking down enemies in combat with swift elegance. You see Sam flying above you with a pair of metal wings. There’s a man walking out of a red and gold robotic suit of armor. Tony. A flash of lightning followed by a flying hammer and a man in a red cape. Thor.

Bit by bit the snippets begin to come together, forming your life story. You remember the fall of SHIELD shortly followed by your recruitment to the Avengers. You remember training with the team and going on missions. Fighting side by side with every single one of them.

You remember the mission briefing with Steve the day before the two of you left the compound. You remember the fear that shot through your veins when the Quinjet took its first hit. And the pain that exploded throughout your whole body when it crashed.

Your hand rips off the shield. You take a few heavy breaths, your eyes opening once more as the memories settle in place within your mind. You give yourself another moment to let your heart rate slow before you pick yourself up off the floor. You scoop up the shield as well and let it rest against the wall.

You release a soft groan, and rub your forehead. You decide that a hot shower might be a good way to calm your reeling mind and help you plan your next steps. Your head feels extremely full now that your original memories are back, but the planted ones are still in there, as well. It’s strange how the planted ones feel no different from the real memories. It's like having two completely separate lives and memories jammed into one brain. You almost feel like there’s not enough space to store it all.

While you’re in the middle of lathering shampoo into your hair, you come to the realization that besides the planted memories, you can’t recall anything else after the plane crash. You don’t remember getting rescued or retrieved from the crash. You don’t remember any sort of Hydra facility. You certainly don’t recall any sort of mental download into this world. Your ‘real-life’ memories go directly from the moment of the crash to touching the shield.

Now that you’re a little more aware of what a memory alteration might feel like, you can’t help but notice that there seems to be a few blanks left. Something that’s still getting blocked somehow. You’re not sure what to make of that.

You finish up your shower and throw on some clothes. Steve hasn’t returned yet, so you head back for the kitchen to start on breakfast. It feels strange to go through your normal morning routine, knowing that everything is fake. Do you even need to eat in this world? However, the only other option is to basically sit and wait for him to come back, and you’re far too jittery for that, so cooking food is the best way to keep yourself moving.

The menial task and thoughts of Steve has your mind wandering a little as you try to grapple with the return of your memories and how that changes the way you feel about him. Or more accurately, how it doesn’t seem to change your feelings at all. It’s true that you hadn’t been in any sort of relationship prior to leaving for the mission, but thinking about going back to a strictly platonic and professional relationship makes you ache. When you try to separate memory from feeling, it still feels like you’re in love with him. It makes you wonder if maybe he’ll feel the same.

Time seems to drag as you wait for Steve’s return. You make your breakfast, eat the food, and then clean up the dishes. You dispose of the cardboard box that the shield arrived in, and then straighten up the rest of the kitchen. You begin to feel like you should be doing something more than your normal routine. Maybe figure out how to help Steve find a way out. But you don’t even know where to begin. You now wish that you had stuck around a little longer when Nat and Sam had been here. You don’t really know the first thing of what’s really going on here.

You’re a little worried that any sort of deviation from what’s normal might tip off Hydra to the change that has occurred to you and Steve. There’s no way to know what kind of level of monitoring they could have here. What if they already know? What if they’ve been watching you this whole time?

The paranoia doesn’t exactly help matters at all, so you attempt to push it aside and continue to wait for Steve. You hope that he may have more answers. You’re in the middle of folding laundry in the bedroom to keep yourself distracted when you hear the rumble of Steve’s motorcycle returning to the house.

Setting down the t-shirt, you move back to the kitchen. When he steps through the door, he meets your gaze first before looking toward the table. His brows furrow when he notes that the shield is missing before he spots it leaning against the wall. He turns his gaze back to you, giving you a curious look.

You try to keep your expression neutral, wanting to try to get a read on him before you decide to bring up anything about your relationship. You understand that there are more important things at stake. You have to be willing to put your heart on hold for now. “So, what’s the plan, Cap?” you ask him directly.

Part 4

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #agent valor #virtue & valor

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sammyxorae · 4 years

Text

Falling For You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3,901

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, suicidal thoughts, kissing

Author’s Note: I’m so excited to be starting another series, especially one with Spencer. I apologize for this one being so long, but I just couldn’t find a place to break it up. I’m going to try and update every couple of days!

***

“What do you think it’ll be like when we’re in love with someone when we’re older?” you asked your best friend as the two of you lay in the bunker, smoking a joint. You were only 12 at the time but at that moment, you felt as nothing in the world could bother you. You felt content and at ease with your best friend by your side.

You heard her giggle and felt her nudge you to hand the joint back over. “Well Y/N/N, I bet it’s going to feel amazing and nothing like we have felt before,” she spoke quietly, looking over at you with a look in her eyes you’ve never seen before.

“What are you thinking about Kitty? You look like you’re going to eat my face,” you laughed but before you could say anything else, you felt her lips on yours. It was a surprise for you and stopped her immediately.

She looked at you with hurt in her eyes and anger. You’ve known the things she has been through, you looked down at the bruises on her arms. She only told you about the way her Dad hurt her and you felt awful rejecting her. “I’m sorry Y/N/N…” she trailed off for a moment but then continued, “I’m so sick of being rejected though, Y/N/N, by men. And hurt by them. They’re fucking pigs.” She began to sob through her words.

You pulled her into you, hugging her and stroking her short brown hair. “I’m so sorry Cat, I wish there was something I could do. I will always be there for you.”

***

That was years ago. You were now in your late twenties and still living in the same town that you guys lived in, but one day, Cat was taken from her father who finally got sent to jail for the abuse and other charges. She was then put with an adoptive family, which seemed to be good at first and the two of you sent letters back and forth for a while. They slowly stopped, receiving and sending less and less, until one day she sent me a letter stating that she was going away for a while, that she killed her adoptive father because he was doing the same thing to her as her biological dad. That was the last letter you ever received from her. You tried to search for your friend throughout the years without any avail. Until one day you saw her on the news.

You were surprised, but not entirely, especially with what she revealed in the letters and the way she acted when you were kids. There were things that Cat did and acted as a child and teen that really threw you for a loop, but you just chalked it up to her abuse at home. Now, as a licensed professional, you knew differently. Trauma has a significant effect on the brain and a child’s psyche. Many individuals who are children do “bounce back,” what is called resiliency, but there are others who unfortunately continue to struggle and develop further mental illnesses.

You looked at the TV screened again, focusing on Cat’s face. It broke your heart, even though you heard of what she did. You felt that guy feeling that you needed to see her one last time. No one should ever really be alone, even though she is a prolific serial killer.

***

You had gone to see her and it was just about what you expected, but a little worse. She was quiet, she looked disheveled, she was more cunning, more manipulative than she used to be. The only thing that was the same was the moment she saw you, there was that look in her eye. It was the same one that she had the night she had kissed you all those years ago.

“I’ll always be there for you Kitty. You know that,” you walked over and kissed her head before you got yelled at by a guard and left.

***

When you got to your apartment, you didn’t realize how emotionally taxing that experience was for you until you felt like you were going to pass out, throw up, and didn’t even hear Walter, your German Short-Haired Pointer dog barking at you.

“Calm down buddy. I know, it’s been a rough day being a dog, huh?” you smiled patting his head.

You knew you had to get yourself in check before it totally consumed you. After you lost Cat as a teenager, you had a really difficult time with your best friend gone. You were depressed, anxious, and couldn’t handle her being gone. There had been nights where you felt as if you had lost a piece of yourself. You loved her, but not in the way that Cat seemed to feel about you.Eventually, you got into therapy yourself and one coping skill you learned to help yourself, was running.

“You want to go for a run boy?” The dog started barking like crazy, running around in circles, grabbing his toys, throwing them in the air. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as you changed into your running clothes and shoes.

“Alright Walter, let’s go buddy!”

When you got to the park you and Walter kept at steady pace as the audiobook in your ear played. You were listening to a crime series that had captured your attention from Denmark, but translated in English. You looked around and noticed a tall, lanky, but good looking man sitting down at a bench, you nodded at him as you were about to pass him, but the next thing you know, you lost your footing, and Walter was chasing after a squirrel.

Spencer’s POV

He had been out of jail for a few days, not even, and he had to take time off. Yet, he couldn’t get out of his mind that his mother was kidnapped and that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. And it was all because of Cat Adams. She was a main center piece for his rage.

Emily Prentiss, his boss and colleague, told him as much as she wanted to have him on the case, he was too close. She also made sure that the last 3 days he had been receiving therapy services to help him cope with everything. One thing the therapist made him realize is that he doesn’t have any friends outside of work, which he was mostly okay with, but that he also hasn’t had a conversation that wasn’t entirely work related as well.

With that said, he decided that he would go to the park and try to “free” his mind, as the therapist said. Anyone that had known Spencer, knew that “freeing” his mind was nearly impossible. The man was a genius with an IQ of 187 and could read 20,000 words per minute. Not your average man. Spencer instead did what he does best, watch people. He’s always found it comforting and relaxing. He immediately noticed a woman and her dog jogging, she had nodded her head at him, and he waved to her. He noticed quickly how pretty she was and seemed to be enjoying herself, but also on alert as she ran.

Almost as soon as he turned his head, he saw her fall straight in front of him as her dog ran off after a squirrel. He ran right over to the woman to help her.

***

Reader’s POV

“Shit!” you yelled out. “Walter get back here!” you screamed again. Reaching down to your bloodied leg and knee, and then your ankle that throbbed. When you looked up, the man that you had noticed moments prior came over to you in a hurry.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern in his voice. You noticed how his curly, brown hair hung over his face and how his golden brown eyes had stared down at you with worry.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, wincing at your ankle when you touched it. “I just need to get my dog. So much for being loyal.”

“Well, actually, in the list of the top 10 most loyal dogs, German Short-Haired Pointers are not on that list. In fact, most believed that Golden Retrievers would be on the list but they didn’t quite make it, actually being voted at number 11. However, German Short-Haired Pointers are one of the world’s most accomplished hunting dogs.” The man continued to ramble as he looked at your ankle, touching it in different places. “Well, it doesn’t seem to be broken so you should be okay, but those gashes on your leg really should be looked at.”

You laughed through the pain saying, “What are you? Some sort of doctor.”

“Actually, I have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering…” he stopped himself when he noticed you were looking at him, smirking but also with a cocked-head in almost confusion.

“But you weren’t actually asking. I’m sorry.” He offered you a hand and helped you up.

“Thank you for helping me…?” you paused, hoping he would catch your drift in wanting to know his name.

“Spencer.. Dr. Spencer Reid.” He smiled as you grabbed his arm, holding you up.

“Well thank you Doctor, but now I need to find my dog if you don’t mind.”

“What’s uhm, your name? If you don’t mind.” He stuttered.

Was he nervous?

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.” you smiled, pushing your bangs behind your ears, taking out the last earbud and putting it in your pocket.

“I can help you find your dog if you’d like and you should probably go to the ER for that. It could probably use some stitches,” he said as the two of you walked a few steps until Walter came running up to you with a dead squirrel in his mouth, wagging his tail as if he just brought you the best present in the world.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Ew” more giggles, “Gross.” Spencer and you both laughed.

“I told you they were accomplished hunting dogs,” Spencer smirked looking at you with a look that lasted just a little bit longer than you expected. Spencer kindly bent down and grabbed Walter’s leash.

This man is incredibly handsome and I could look at him for days. Stop it Y/N, he’s just being kind and helping. Sometimes you had a hard time separating kindness from something more.

“So how about I get you a ride and make sure you get to the ER for your leg,” he asked again as you held his nice strong arms, Stop Y/N, toward the street, out of the park.

“No, no. I can’t do that, I really should get back home,” you let go of him trying to walk as you grabbed Walter’s leash, but nearly fell all over again. Spencer was quick to catch you before you fell to another impact, possibly making the wounds worse.

“What are you? A ninja or a cat with those reflexes,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his mannerisms and behaviors. He was an interesting person and you were just wanting to get to know more about him.

“No, just something I do everyday. But honestly, I’m a pretty clumsy person,” he admitted with a hidden smile.

Between a few more words, you and Spencer agreed to let him buy you an Uber to take you and Walter home. The Uber man was not particularly happy about the dog part, but you guys had bribed him with extra cash due to the situation.

The ride wasn’t long and soon you were back to your apartment, Spencer helping you out of the car and getting Walter.

“Shit. Of course, the one time I really need an elevator, I don’t have one. Guess I’ll crawl,” you groaned with irritation.

“Or, I could carry you up. Nothing weird, I’ll just give you a piggyback ride,” he shrugged as he looked at you.

At first you thought he was joking but no, this man was serious. Carrying you up three flights of stairs wasn’t too bad, but it seemed like a lot to you. You huffed out in defeat and gave in to his offer. He bent down so you could get on his back. He was careful to not touch your leg or ankle so he didn’t hurt them.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Up, up, and away!” You yelled with a hint of playfulness. He giggled and you gripped on tight. Luckily, Walter knew where the door was and he ran straight up. You only hoped that’s exactly where he went. Obviously he had a track record of not listening to you.

As Spencer carried you, there was no way that you could ignore the fresh smell of shampoo in his hair and how his toned arms and shoulders felt under yours.

“Did you just smell my hair?” Spencer laughed as he continued up the stairs.

“I absolutely did not just sniff your hair that smells like flowers,” you lied with a snort.

Just before you could say something else, you guys were at your door, with Walter waiting right in front.

“Thanks for doing one thing right today,” you sighed with a smile, patting your dog on the head. You opened the door and smiled to Spencer, “Thank you again for helping me out again, Spencer. I appreciate it. Also, you haven’t told me what you do but from what I understand you’re the combination of a cat and ninja.”

“Let’s just say I work for the government and I’m used to this stuff,” he pushed his hair back.

You noticed immediately the form sweating on his forehead and the way he licked his lips unintentionally. Get a grip Y/N.

Snapping back to what was in front of you, “Spencer, please let me thank you by ordering some food for you and get you something to drink… As long as that doesn’t seem weird.”

Spencer hesitated for a second, looking down, letting his locks of brown and curls fall in front of his face. He looked up with a gentle smile and agreed.

“I’m going to hobble my way into the bathroom and take a shower and then try to deal with the bandages and cleaning up my wounds. There’s a folder in the top drawer to the right of the refrigerator with restaurants that you can choose to order from. I’ll be done in like 15 minutes, tops. Please make yourself at home, seriously. Mi casa es su casa,” you smiled and began to hobble just down the hallway.

After 15 minutes, like you said, you got out of the shower and realized that you didn’t grab any clothes. Shit. You groaned out loud to yourself. Why wouldn’t you grab clothes before you went to take a shower when there’s a hot man standing in your living room? You grab the towel and walk out in the hallway, hoping that he doesn’t see you, but as soon as you walk out, you run straight into Spencer’s chest.

“Ope! Shit!” you jumped with startlement.

Spencer immediately covered his eyes, “I’m so sorry! I was just coming to knock on the door and check on you.”

You gained your composure and blurted out, “Quit it. You act as if you hadn’t seen a woman in a towel before.” You walked away into your bedroom, wondering where the hell that confidence and flirtatiousness came from. Sometimes you surprise yourself.

Back out in the living room, you had noticed that he had fed Walter, and you finally sat down on the couch. “Thanks for feeding Walter. How did you know where his food was?” You had it in a particular cabinet, not where you figured most would keep it.

“You’d be surprised how many individuals’ kitchens are similarly put together and organized,” he spoke with confidence.

“People are creatures of habits,” you both said at the same time and looked at each other and giggled. You felt the red on your cheeks rise up and almost the same for his. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a therapist, you recognize people’s body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice.

While you sat down, you attempted to verbally direct Spencer through your apartment to find the medical box you had of bandages and stuff to clean your wounds. Luckily, he was incredibly smart and able to understand your horrible direction. After a few curse words, tylenol, and an ice pack later, you thanked him once again for putting the bandages on you and began to talk about where to order. The two of you both agreed to get chinese, oddly enough ordering pretty similar orders.

The two of you sat on the couch, him sitting next to you, your shoulders touching lightly, as your leg up on the coffee table to keep it elevated and iced. Both of you agreed to watch some Disney movies to pass the time, talking about what you did, telling him that you’re a therapist. He seemed to be understanding when you talked about what you do, how you love helping people but that it is exhausting.

“I couldn’t agree more. Burn-out is real and people sometimes forget to take care of themselves. That’s my favorite part of my job too,” he rambled on.

For a while, the two of you fell into a pattern, eating, talking about the movies that were on, laughing about the things that each of you have experienced in life, and sometimes just enjoying each other in silence.

You learned that he found it funny that your dog’s name was Walter because his middle name was Walter. He learned that you have lived in this city your whole life. Also, that the both of you have never been out of the country. You found each other holding each other’s gaze a little bit longer than usual, like at the park, but this time more comfortably. You also learned this man was walking genius. Which had you interested in anything he did or said. Having an eidetic memory could be a curse and blessing, from what it sounded like.

***

You don’t know how much time had passed, but you realized that you had fallen asleep. It must’ve been hours later. You noticed that there was a large figure behind you and an arm around you as well. You almost freaked out until you realized that the man who had helped you yesterday had stayed the night by accident and was near you. Spencer. You thought to yourself. You turned slowly to see his face. He seemed calm and his breathing at a normal pace.

Without trying to wake him up, you looked down and saw that Walter was asleep at the other side of the couch. Oddly enough for a dog, he didn’t like mornings. You attempted to move your way into the kitchen behind you, noticing that your leg wasn’t hurting as bad as last night, but still some pain. You looked at the clock, it was 5am, and you instinctively began to make some coffee. Not trying to be creepy, but you watched Spencer as he slept, moving a little bit here and there.

You grabbed the coffee cups and miraculously made it back over to the couch without falling or spill, and almost as if the smell hit his nose, he was awake.

“Hey,” you whispered to him, handing the coffee to him.

He smiled and grunted out the word hey, taking the coffee and sipping it slowly. “Thanks, I can never turn down a cup of coffee.”

The two of you sat there in silence but Spencer was the first to talk. “I’m really sorry about staying the night. I hope that didn’t bother you.”

You put your hand on his hand, “absolutely not. Seriously. I really had an awesome time getting to know you last night and hanging out. You’re seriously hilarious and great company,” you blushed as you said it. I probably sound like a freaking idiot. Good one Y/N, you’ll probably scare a nice person away. Although you were a therapist, you had a lot of self-doubt about yourself, something you really struggled with, but sometimes there was that confidence.

“Me too. It was... normal,” he said with intention and obviously using his words carefully. “My life is not really what most would consider normal.”

“What is normal anyway?” You questioned with a smirk and partially a rhetorical question.

Before Spencer could answer, hsi phone began to ring. He grabbed it and immediately you saw fear and maybe some anger in his eyes.

“I… I-I- have to take this, sorry…” he trailed off, getting up and going down your hallway, as if he knew the place. You were concerned because that was the first time you had really seen Spencer, in the last 24 hours that you’ve known him, seem defeated almost. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop but you still couldn’t hear him.

Spencer’s POV

“Hey JJ, what’s going on? Did you guys find my Mom? I should be there..” he spoke trying to calm himself. He was still frustrated with the fact that he couldn’t be part of this. He wanted to find her. After all of what Cat Adams has put him through, she had to go and hit him where it hurts the worst. Having his Mom kidnapped.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry,” JJ stayed quiet for a moment then stated “One big thing we found out is that Cat and Lindsay, aren’t just a partnership, they were lovers. Well, for Lindsay they were or are lovers. However, we found out that Lindsay is in love with Cat, but we don’t think that’s the same for Cat.”

Every time he heard her name, he felt this anger build up more and more inside of him. One that he never really had before prison. People say prison changes a person and Spencer had always found it to be a saying people would use to rationalize their behaviors, but now, he believed it. He would never kill Cat Adams, but he sure wouldn’t feel any different if she died.

“Spence? Are you listening to me?” JJ brought him back to reality.

“Yeah, sorry. So Lindsay is in love with Cat… Cat is manipulative, she will do whatever it takes to get control and achieve her goal,” he said with that anger slowly starting to build up. He began to breathe slowly, to calm himself. He couldn’t let it get the best of him.

“They recently got into a fight, somehow, they had connection with one another in person, we’re thinking that Lindsay pretended to be someone else to get into the prison and bypass security or there’s a mole allowing this all to happen. All we know is that it caused a riff between Cat and Lindsay, making this a possible way to break the connection between the two. Unfortunately, Lindsay is still being loyal to Cat. Love can do some weird things to people.”

“So we’re nowhere closer to finding my mom?” his voice broke.

JJ stopped speaking and then he heard Emily speak, “Hey Spence, I know it’s Sunday morning, but something just happened. I need you in here this morning. We’re transferring Cat Adams back here. She’s agreeing to talk. On one condition,” she trails off, Spencer knowing where this is going.

“If she talks to me..” he spoke quietly. He rubbed his eyes and hair, “I’ll be there soon.”

***

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