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squerlly · 6 months

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flames of desire chapter 8: how sweet...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -FLUFF-

Alastors POV:

Ever since that day, the day I came to terms with the fact that I am indeed infatuated with y/n its driving me crazy. why couldn't she just push me away, why didn't she deny my feelings, I feel weak...

your POV:

well last night was quite the shit show. I almost got raped, angel might pay for it later, and Alastor just confessed he loves me. what do I even do with myself, god my head hurts what was in those drinks. with a groan I get up heading to the bathroom to freshen up, it was a Saturday and I was feeling lazy so tank top and shorts it is. after changing I take a moment to look at myself, for a demon I look so....pathetic?, I really gotta learn how to defend myself, maybe ill ask vaggie later.

walking to the lobby I see Alastor on the arm chair with a book, husk at the bar, and angel flipping through channels on the TV. Alastor spots me and I stiffen, my face heating up remembering what happened last night, "good morning my dear" "oh uhh good morning, what are you guys doing?" I plop on the couch beside angel "ehh its my day off and my fucken head hurts" I roll my eyes "what happened to gotta start off strong" angel shoots me a scowl "I'm not one for weak alcohol like you~" "sounds like a you problem" "oh you little-" "ehem" looking at alastor he shoots angel a warning look, I try to hold in a laugh maybe having creepy deer man at my side isn't to bad "anyways I was going to go out for a walk to visit a dear friend of mine and would like for you to attend if you would like" "well I wasn't planning on doing anything today so why not" "wonderful dear tell me when your ready to go and we shall be off" as alastor leaves I avert my gaze back to angel as he throws me a suspicious look "what?" "what are ya giving smiles under the table or somethin, he never invites people out" with a flustered face I yell "angel!!!!" "what!? just sayin no need to get your panties in a bunch~" "whatever..." angel cackles as I walk away heading back to my room to get dressed. once again tearing up my closet I settle on a white sweetheart neckline puffy sleeved dress, brushing my hair and ears I hear a knock on the door, opening its alastor "hello my dear are you ready to go?" "yes!" "wonderful" heading to the hotel doors I turn back to angel who smirks doing a jerking off motion, I just flip him off I we both leave.

walking the streets of hell once again I notice that demon stray away from us, leaving the sidewalk free of any sinners blocking the path, damn just how scared were these people of Alastor, noticing him staring down at me "whats the matter?" "nothing cher you just look nice today" oh that's a new nick name "thank you but, were are we going?" "well none other then one of my favorite places in all of hell!" with a curious look I see a sign that says cannibal town written on it "cannibal town? Al am I going to get eaten" I joke seeing the people all around before watching a man get mangled and eaten, wait a damn minute- "I assure you cher nobody will eat you with me here" lovely.... "o-ok" I say trying to ignore the fact somebody literally got eaten alive in front of me, aside from that the town looked nice, don't get me wrong the people are terrifying but this is the most well managed place if seen thus far, its mostly just chaos down here. "there's somebody I would like you to meet, I'm sure she will love you~" walking into a place called Rosie's Emporium, it had nice dresses and is that- body parts!!?, suddenly a tall pale woman wearing a long dress and a large hat with feathers comes pushing past the crowed "alastor? alastor!!!, were have you been iv missed you" "hello Rosie, good to see you doing well" as she grabs him and hugs him she looks to me as I awkwardly wave "Alastor whos this lovely lady, introduce me will ya" "ah yes y/n dear this is Rosie one of the most darling and dangerous overlords this side of the pentagram!" "oh no need for such flattery~" "Rosie this is y/n a resident at charlies hotel" "oh hello, its nice to meet you" "my my she's a cutie!" "Rosie you don't mind if she picks though some of your lovely dresses" "oh of course, any friend of alastors is a friend of mine" "wait what-" "cher why don't you look through these lovely dresses at her shop I'm sure you will find something you like" "I- are you sure?" "yes, me and Rosie will talk for a bit, pick anything you like~" "oh uhm alright!"

Alastors POV:

sitting on one of Rosie's tables she hands me a cup of bitter coffee as we talk "well alastor its not everyday you bring a lady to my place~, who is she?" "we need to hang out less dear" she lets out a little laugh, "she's a shy one, quite a lucky girl aswell, it takes a lot to gain the likes of you" glancing at y/n looking through the dresses "she's quite interesting, and I don't know why..." "well your all googly eyed for her so I presume you love her" unconsciously some static cracks through my voice as I speak "love is a strong word don't you think?" "sounds like your in denial~" "I'm not in denial!, this is just a new form of interest" "I think this is good for you, she seems like bright girl. you guys haven't done anything yet hmm?" I give her a glare before averting my gaze elsewhere sipping my coffee "ohh~?" "nothing serious so don't get your hopes up" nothing serious yet, the truth was that kiss tasted sweet, it stir something in me, and I don't like sweet things. so why do I want more...I need more, I need another taste.

your POV:

looking at the clothing racks of dresses they were all old fashioned, not that it was a bad thing but not my style, I still looked around anyways setting my sights on a nice red and white dress, it had a high neckline with the top half being white and the bottom a deep red color. the sleeves were puffy, taking it off the rack I hang it over my arm "uhh Rosie you don't mind if I try anything on right?" turning her attention from there conversation "of course dear try on anything ya like, the dressing rooms are in the back!" I give her a smile as I hurry on back, looking at the dress I see there was buttons along the sides wear you slip it on, stepping into it I button them on, walking out I look at myself in the mirror, giving it a spin it looked pretty but the waist is a bit tight...seeing alastor in the mirrors reflection I turn "alastor you scared me for a second" "sorry cher I didn't intend to scare you, found something you like?" "I don't know I feel silly..." "nonsense you look wonderful" grabbing my hand he spins me earning a giggle "red is truly your color" "say the one who wears nothing but red" "well then I suppose we match don't we~" "can I have this one?" "of course, why don't you change and ill get it for you" "thank you Al" "anything for you my dear" running off to change I come back out with the dress in hand as we walk back to the front with Rosie "well take this one Rosie" "oh what a lovely choice you made, I'm sure this looked beautiful on you" "how much will that be?" "don't worry about it its on the house!" giving a wide smile she waves it off "thank you so much!" "yes thank you again Rosie" "anything for a friend, after all you've never done me wrong before~" packaging the dress in a nice bag she hands it to me with a card, "if you ever need some dresses don't hesitate to pay me a visit" she said with a wink and I nod with a wide smile.

Alastors POV:

it does my dead heart good to see her smile, to know I caused that smile, oh she had no idea what she's done to me. "y/n dear why don't we walk back to the hotel, wouldn't want to make Charlie worried" "oh yes!" I wave off Rosie finding her much needed advice quite useful "did you enjoy yourself cher?" "most defiantly!, I can see why you like this place" "yes it takes me back to my time were things were much simpler" "I wish I could live in this time, it was...nice" "glad you think so".

back at the hotel we walk in as it was already starting to get late, I walk her back to her room "consider this a date, I would love to take you out more cher" seeing a shade of red on her cheeks makes me feel giddy, taken out of my thought she suddenly gives me a hug, surprised I return her affectionate gesture hearing a small mumble from her "thank you alastor, it means a lot" "anything for you darling, now sleep well, don't let the nightmares' haunt you, that's my job~"

eat eat eat this up please because I pray you love this chapter as much as I didddd!!!! Rosie is my everything!!!! and are we gonna talk about last weekend were I woke up to 99+ NOTIFICATIONS!!!! I love you guys so much I could cry have a wonderful day/night lots of hugs

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content or chapters please click this masterlist

#hazbin #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel

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bel1ewrites · 1 year

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could you write sam and reader getting into an argument because sam is so overprotective and tries to keep reader at home to keep her safe from ghostface but reader wants to go out, reader accidentally lets a “fuck you” towards sam slip during the argument and sam immediately puts her back in her place with smut please, i love the way you write sam so much

a/n: dropped everything I was doing to write this and all of a sudden its 2 AM??? Anyway, I love this.

A Slipping Mind (Samantha Carpenter x Reader)

Description: Sam always knows what's best for you.

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: toxic relationship, very slight mentions of murder, possessive!Sam, smut, praise kink, fingering, slight dumbification, top!Sam, bottom!reader, etc.

“I DON'T know what you want from me, Samantha! Its like you won’t let me be my own fucking person,” you seethed, pressing your fingertips to your temple in an attempt to calm yourself down. The person you argued with remained quiet, face impassive as she closed the door to your apartment and stripped off her jacket.

“You’re not going.” She said, voice stern and even. “End of discussion-”

“-Like hell it is,” you interrupted. But even as you said this your voice shook, and you wondered when her emotions would boil over and result in another fist through the wall. Ultimately, there was no going back. “I bought a costume for this party. I canceled plans for this party. I got a goddamn tattoo for this party-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you did or didn’t do for this frat party, y/n.” She sighed, interrupting you this time. “It's Halloween weekend. He could be anywhere, and here you are acting like a child while I’m trying to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Right. Because that went so well the last time.”

“Of course you’re gonna bring that up right now,” you nodded in exasperation and bit your knuckle, stomping into your shared bedroom and tearing off your shirt. “Real fucking mature, babe.”

Sam followed close behind you, watching as you grabbed your costume out of the closet. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to wait for you to get stabbed again?” She quipped before ripping the fabric from your hands and stepping close to you, forcing you to back up against the wall. Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, bra clad breasts brushing against her shirt with her proximity. “Or maybe you want me to say it to your grave after they find you dead in a fucking alley.”

“Fuck you.” you pushed out through gritted teeth as phantom pain from your last encounter with a murderer flooded through your lower stomach. The scarred skin puffed out in a jagged pale line.

The browns of her irises disappeared as her pupils dilated. She was looking down at you with a predatory glare; not unlike that of a caged lion. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Your head tilted up. "Go fuck yourself," you laughed humorlessly, pushing roughly against her chest and wincing as she shoved you back against the wall with little to no effort.

Her tongue peaked out to wet her bottom lip, mouth morphing into a malicious smile. "Why would I do that when I could just fuck this attitude out of you?"

Her right hand wrapped around your throat to keep your head back against the wall and in place as she slammed her lips to yours harshly, her other hand dropping the costume. It was messy. Teeth and tongue and demanding lips all working together to force you into submission.

At first you fought back, squirming in place with your body pinned between her and the wall. You kept your lips stagnant and wrapped your hands around her wrist in a pathetic attempt to remove her hand from your neck. All she did was reach behind your back with her free hand, unclasping your bra with ease and smirking against you as you momentarily forgot to fight against the lust building within you, lips moving like fire against hers.

“There she is.” Her voice was unhinged as she murmured against you. Her thumb dug into your jugular, feeling the blood pump as your heart struggled to keep its pace.

You could feel yourself giving in, brain struggling to remember why you were fighting in the first place; body relaxing in her grasp and hands dropping to your sides. “You’re crazy.” You insisted as a last ditch effort to maintain some ounce of your dignity.

“You fucking love it.” She countered, moving her lips off of yours and nipping at your jaw, pulling at your bra until it fell from your body.

As soon as those four words left her mouth, you were a goner. She had you where she wanted you, reading your mind like it was a picture book. You did love it. You loved it so much you hated it. “I do,” you relented, voice pitching up when she bit your earlobe; mouth in the shape of a knowing smile.

Using the grip she had on your neck, Sam pulled you back from the wall and turned the both of you around, guiding you expertly toward the bed. “You don’t wanna go to that party, baby.”

Your back hit the mattress with a light thud, brain all light and foggy.

“You’d rather stay here, with me.” She assured. “Isn’t that right?”

You gasped when her lips fell to your neck and instantly located your weak spot. “Mhm…” came your hummed agreement. “With you.”

Her hands began to wander, skimming over the peaks of your breasts and tracing each rib with her lithe fingers. Her nails dug into your hips as she took her time devouring you. Her shirt rubbed up against your bare nipples with each shift and you thought you’d go crazy because of her. Your mind was slipping.

Teeth dug into your clavicle, a moan escaped you against your will. “Wait, Sam.” You panted weakly. “Wanna… wanna go t-”

“-Shhh, pretty girl. Don’t think.” She shifted down your body and breathed against your sternum. “Just lay here and be good like I know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

Her lips pressed against the valley between your breasts, trailing kisses along the underside of your tit and nipping lightly at the swell of your flesh. Shifting desperately, you brought your hands to the nape of her neck and pulled her mouth to your nipple needily.

Warm lips encompassed one nipple, rolling the other between her skilled fingers. Your hips twitched up when she sucked, tongue rolling over the hardened bud and fingers tugging at the other simultaneously. Her unoccupied hand moved to pull at the button of your jeans with the sureness of an expert. When she got it undone, she detached her mouth from you and moved to the other side.

As soon as she felt both nipples had fair treatment, she moved down your body and unzipped your jeans, pulling them off of you and finding you bare beneath them. The sight set her mind ablaze, dripping cunt throbbing and naked and waiting for her.

Her hands gripped your thighs roughly and pushed them far apart. “You were made for me.”

She kneeled between your legs and dragged her fingers through the soaked heat that rested between them. “I’d never let you go to that stupid fucking party; never let anyone see what’s mine.”

You pushed your hips toward her, watching as she sucked her fingers clean with a hum. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Her eyes stared into yours, soaking in the way your lashes fluttered and your mouth fell open as she pushed two fingers into you. Her jaw clenched and her other hand grabbed onto your hip for balance.

Your back arched against the mattress, cunt sucking her fingers in and clenching tightly as if trying to prevent them from leaving. Your head was spinning and Sam was the only thing that kept you grounded. She tethered you to the earth with the hand on your hip and sent you spiraling off of it with each move of the other. Groans spilled from your throat like blood; the sound pooling around you and encouraging her fingers to move faster.

Each and every cell in your body was devoted to the woman before you. She knew you like the back of her hand. She knew how to make you fold, how to make you laugh, how to make you cry, and how to make you cum like no one else ever had. In turn, you knew how to satisfy her need to possess you.

Her bicep tensed with each thrust, fingers moving in a rhythm she’d mastered a long time ago. “You’re the only one who can fuck me like this.” You panted, forcing your eyes to stay open so you could watch her own you.

“Yeah?” her hand pounded into you with more force. “Talk to me. Tell me every little thought in that head of yours.”

Sam wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t have the calm and loving look on her face you’d grown accustomed to. No, this was a different person. Her eyes were wide and wandering, teeth bared and veins poking out from her hands and forearms as blood pumped through her body.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” You told her. Her hand moved off of your hip and rubbed at your neglected clit, making it hard for you to focus on your words. “So fucking raw-”

“-I want you to say you love me when you cum.” She grunted out as soon as she felt your walls start to squeeze her tighter. Sweat dampened her forehead, hair sticking to it and making her look even more disheveled.

The orgasm was building and building. Every muscle in your body was taught with the sheer force of its impending arrival. All of your senses were on fire. You could feel her everywhere, in your mind and under your skin, fingers pressing into you just right; puzzle pieces sliding into place. The smell of sex filtered through your nostrils, the sounds of her fucking you flowing through your ears. The thing that overwhelmed you the most was the way she was looking at you like you completed her.

“Fuck- fuck,” you moaned as your hands grasped the sheets beneath you.

“Come on, baby. Say it.”

“I love you, I love you-” you were cut off by the mind numbing sensation that overtook you. Your orgasm crashed over you at five hundred miles per hour, stripping your head of all thoughts.

Sam watched as you arched off the bed, slowing her thrusts as you shuddered and tensed and shook like a leaf.

“There you go,” she smiled down at you. “You’re doing so good. Ride it out.”

You were beneath her, neck strained and still moaning incoherently. For at least a minute you stayed that way. She’d pulled out of you and began massaging your shaking thighs while she waited patiently for you to come down.

When you finally did, the first words she said were, “I bet you’re glad you didn’t go to that party.”

#sam carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #screamxi #scream #melissa barrera #wlw #lesbian #ghostface #gxg

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codenamehazard · 1 month

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.:Walkabout:.

Chapter 34: Walkabout

Hey guys!

Sorry for the gap! Life stuff got in the way again and I'm currently rearranging my schedule to make sure things get done and all that. All the stuff that goes into adulting. So things still might be a bit sporadic for a bit, but I didn't forget!

Anyways, here's chapter 34! Hope you enjoy!

Without delay, let's jump in!

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“I can't believe I’m going through this bullshit."

I growl to myself as I left the hell tent, promptly giving it the middle finger as I left. Once I’m on the move, I look at the folded note I was given, opening it as I go and reading it again.

There were instructions to go to Mercy Hospital and get checked out by a… “Dr. Sims?” Not sure who this guy is, and tell him I’m coming in for a quick physical and an energy reading…. Something about seeing if it could be helpful in speeding up Pangolin’s recovery? I don’t fucking know.

The note also contained a token with the face of a bear stamped in it, an indicator to others the sister I answered to and a reminder that I can “always come to them for aid.” I can’t help but to scoff. Right, aid… Like they haven't “done enough" for me as is.

The physical makes some sense, I guess. Last time I was anywhere near doctors were….

I quickly shake my head to keep the memories from sinking in. Last thing I need is to start having flashbacks of that moment.

The point still stands, however, I haven’t seen a doctor in years. Granted I don’t know how this is gonna work out but I’m guessing this “Sims” character is experienced with Conduit health and anatomy, so he’ll probably do a decent job. Maybe he can explain this energy thing too.

I can feel my blood start to seeth a little at my predicament. Here I am, back to being a fucking errand boy again. I guess the silver lining of it this time around is that it's basically my rent. So any money I earn, I get to keep. Will come in very handy since I don’t know if typical American cash will work since everything has gone to hell.

That and there isn’t some grand scheme over my head, just a simple “I can stay so long as I chip in.” Reasonable expectation, I guess. At least they aren’t tearing my life asunder or forcing grandiose responsibilities onto me.

I spot Mako and flag her down before we meet up in the middle. We catch up with some chit-chat before I ask her where Crow went off to as the last time I saw the brown-haired woman, she was with Mako.

“She had gone back to Mercy Hospital." She answers with a nod of her head towards that direction. "Duty calls and all.”

"Hm.” I grunt. "Seems like I’ll probably be seeing her again soon.” Mako cocks her head before I show her the note and the token I was given. The sight of the bear-faced token makes the Shark chuckle a bit. I raise an eyebrow. "What's so funny?”

"Oh nothing, I’m just not surprised that Bear took you under her wing. She tends to take on hotheads.” Mako replies and I groan as I roll my eyes.

“I take it you answer to a sister too?" I ask and she nods, pulling out a token with the face of a sparrow on it before we start walking.

Huh… Mako was put under the Sparrow bitch’s care? I wonder why, but that's a question for later.

"So, how did everything go?” Mako asks and I freeze before turning my head slowly to her, feeling anger starting to build.

"Woah.” I stop her. "Woah-woah-woah. I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.” I see her face go pale a bit as I narrow my eyes at her.

"You know…Your…Trial?"

I growl. “Did you know about all of this?" Electricity starts to pop off of my arms as I glare at her.

"I can explain.” She starts, I growl deeper.

"Then start talking.”

She sighs before looking at me. "Tri-Point tends to attract the misfits of society… The lost, the wandering, the outcasts, you know… The types that would run away and join the circus and all that.” I can help but to roll my eyes at that, how fitting. Though I can't help but to think that all of those words are apt descriptors of myself. Wandering, outcasted and fucking lost.

“With that being said. The Sisters Three needed a system to make sure those who come to Tri-Point are who they say they are and would do w-"

“And that mirror maze from Hell is part of that?!?” I roar out, abruptly interrupting Mako and causing her to flinch. She nods quickly before continuing.

"The Trial of Reflection is unique to whoever participates and it's something that everyone goes through. It’s what shows the truth of a person’s heart!”

“And you didn’t think to, oh I don’t fucking know, give me a heads up about this?! Just like you didn’t think to tell me about the fucking Corrodium?!?” I snarl out, rage spilling out of my mouth out of control. “Something I thought we addressed back before we left Droptown. Did you forget the little detail about how much I fucking hate repeating myself?!” I start getting in her space, electricity popping off of my arms. Mako glares and stands her ground.

“Look Cole!” She starts. “I get it! Not giving you a Wildlands 101 is on Pangolin and I, I’m not denying that! We should have done that before we left and I’m working on trying to rectify that, but when it comes to the rabbit, I couldn’t tell you!” “Why. The hell. Not?!” “Nivens is a key part of the system the Sisters Three set up.” She defends. Great, that horned menace has a name?! “‘The one who sees the Rabbit must make the choice on their own.’ If I told you the true nature of Nivens and what you were about to get into, it would make the system moot!” “Weren’t you the one that encouraged me to chase the damn thing?” I point out with a glare. “You could have still said no!” The shark retorts. “You’re a grown ass man, like you always point out! I can’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do!”

This statement stops my rage in its tracks, causing me to pause and think. Mako’s right, while yeah; she egged me on, I’m still the one who ultimately made the call to fall for the rabbit’s taunting and give into impulse.

Speaking of choices, I remembered that was a big topic that the woodland bitches latched onto, choice or more specifically, my lack of it. My entire life was pretty much planned out before I was even a twinkle in my dad’s eye. Planned out hundreds of years in advance by the failure of a future self that bastard was and even after I broke free from his designs by siding with John, I only found myself in the chains of another grand design when John shirked his responsibilities and forced them onto my shoulders. Responsibilities that weren’t mine to bear.

Ditching the ball-and-chain that was Kuo and John’s army was the first time I ever made a choice that was completely and wholly of my own will and discretion, no bigger scheme, no grand destiny, nothing. Just a man taking back his autonomy. Ever since that day, I’ve had more freedom and choice than I ever had in my entire life. It’s only now that I’m truly and fully seeing this.

Hell, I have so much freedom now that… I’m not even quite sure what to do with it all.

I guess that I’ve become so used to my life being decided for me and my choices being as meaningful as piss in the ocean that without some puppet-master bullshit pulling the strings or some grand plan invalidating my autonomy that I’m used to it. So much so that without some outside force controlling my fate or me rebelling against said controlled fate, I really… Don’t know who exactly I am anymore. I thought I did, but now… I’m not sure.

As much as I hate to admit it…. And I really fucking hate to admit it, Deer was right. I have become disillusioned and lost.

“... Cole?” Mako’s voice penetrates through the whirlwind in my head, causing me to jump a bit in a start. The expression she wears is full of concern and worry, one I remember well back when she was part of John’s army, back when I led it. She was really the only one who'd show concern for me.

“Are you okay?" She asks, her voice tinged with worry. I open my mouth to lie, to tell her that I’m fine, but I pause. Lack of communication, lack of transparency. It's what's getting us into these messes. Seems like a common theme too, one that needs to break. Best start with myself.

"No.” I snap before taking a breath. “No, I’m not okay…” I see Mako about to say something, but I put my hand up. “With the hell I just went through in that madhouse, I need time to think… Process everything.”

Mako pauses, her eyes darting side to side before speaking up. "Well… If you need a listening ear or someone to vent to, you can always come to me or the other Misfits. We’ll be here for you.” She states, I can see she wants to add something, but she seems to dismiss whatever it was. Regardless, I nod.

"Appreciate the offer, Mako.” I mutter slightly. "But this is something I need to sort out on my own." She nods in understanding.

“Anyways, I need to be heading to the hospital. Marching orders and all.” I state simply. She nods before beginning to walk off.

"And Mako?” I stop her before she gets too far. "When you make that ‘Wildlands 101’ class, make sure you cover everything. And I mean everything. No more surprises. I will not repeat myself a third time." I warn, my eyes glowing red. “I mean it."

“Right, I’ll confer with the others to make sure everything gets covered." Mako sheepishly murmurs before rubbing the back of her head. I nod at her and we part ways.

As I walk, I rub my calloused hands over my face tiredly before looking at the sky, noticing the sun was nearing the horizon. I sigh loudly and shake my hands, venting off arrant sparks before continuing on. I don't know what to expect with this hospital visit, but what I do know is I can kiss any hope of getting any sleep at all goodbye.

Because with the hell I just went through? There's no hope of getting any sleep tonight.

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #Mako #More and more #The mystery unfolds.#But I wonder how much people truly knows?#Or understands?#Only time will tell.#... Or will it?

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winterapocalypse · 8 months

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Winter Apocalypse

Chapter 50: Emily knows

"Are you going somewhere nice, Guerrero?"

Emily Bolton Way Blackwood was waiting for him outside the door, an innocent smile on her lips. That evening she was dressed to the nines, in a dark black velvet dress that opened into a dark spiderweb at her neckline, with wide, long sleeves, and around her waist it was girded by a black leather corset. She was wearing two pairs of stockings: black tights broken in various holes and stairs (as she called them "stairs to hell") and medium mesh fishnet stockings over them. Her pitch black boots had multiple buckles and long, pointed studs on each one, and her thick soles had skull-shaped metal plates on them. On her wrists he wore small chains that ran almost all the way down her arm and ended up connected to rings on her pale fingers, and around her neck he wore a large studded collar that seemed to sting quite a bit. Her cold eyes were lined with black makeup, much of her eyeliner had run lightly, and her lips were covered in lipstick as red as her darker, thicker blood. Eddie clearly shuddered, and Emily tilted her head slightly.

"Y-yeah. I was actually going…I have a date! With a hot mamacita, you know? I can't keep her waiting!" Eddie laughed nervously, trying to get away.

"Liar." Emily said coldly. "Go to Lady Melisandre's office…"

“H-how do you…” Eddie gasped, clutching the cloak close to him.

"Oh, I know a lot of things." Emily smiled playfully, bringing a hand with long black nails to her lips. "I want to come, too."

“Why would you ever want to come?” Eddie looked at her fearfully. Emily snorted. For someone who had a reputation as a criminal burglar and child of danger, she was all too easily impressionable.

"Because I can't sleep at night and I'm bored." Emily urged him to follow her. "Besides, now that our groups have joined together we're friends, right? I want to help you…"

"Look, I can handle myself, mamacita!" Eddie snorted but followed her anyway, finding himself in his own gothic stone room. "The exit is on the other side."

"Let me do it. Give me the cloak. I know that the Red Woman sees under it too…" She took out from the black ebony chest of drawers in the night with Gothic carvings a needle and an acid green thread that seemed to light up. He took the cloak from the Sothoryos boy's hand and sat on his bed, magically lighting with his thoughts a green candle on the wall, and began to embroider.

"What are you doing?!" Eddie tried to stop her, alarmed, but a cold look made him freeze in place.

"You're not very smart, are you? I thought so…" Emily sighed. "I'm embroidering the rune of invisibility on it, I'm strengthening it for you."

"How…how do you know about the Red Woman…" Eddie sat cross-legged on the stone floor.

"I know many things, Guerrero…for example, I know about visions." Emily looked him straight in the eyes, a smile on her doll-like face. "About the centaur, Rey, about the fight with that gorilla friend of yours…You can read these things on your face."

He fell silent, Emily embroidering the magical rune with precision and skill and Eddie looking around anxiously. The room was dark, despite the green light that softly illuminated it, and in the darkness of the darkest corners you could often glimpse pale faces floating, disappearing into the most mysterious ravines as soon as they were noticed. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting bloody and bloody scenes, taken from various fantasy books or historical battles that Emily was an expert on. Besides that she was also an expert on vampires and everything related to them, videos of broom accidents and ghost videos that she often watched until late on her phone with the green and black cover. Too bad most of them were fake.

"I'm done, shall we go?" Emily smiled, handing him the power cloak. "I'm kidding you anyway. You told everything out loud earlier, when you were drunk."

Emily was having a blast, especially seeing the other man's eyes fill with embarrassment. Her plan still included a fundamental stage, because although her powers were different and mysterious she had no intention of getting expelled from Winter Hogwarts for having searched the Red Woman's office. That damned hen, despite spending her days getting paid by blowing through straws, used magic that not even Emily understood, for example she had once seen her perform a very intricate spell that had called to her little men of black smoke just to take a jar from an Omega Mart shelf. Emily had watched the scene sitting next to Stone Cold Steve Austin near the register as she used to do on the dullest days (Stone Cold Steve Austin was a very funny man in her opinion), and they both agreed that they should at the very least fire her from the staff of the school due to waste of resources. So Emily had seen fit to ask for help from her cousin Ramsay Bolton, who when it came to creating havoc and doing illegal things was always ready together with her 20 good men, or as everyone called them "the clique".

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#winter apocalypse #emily bolton way blackwood #eddie guerrero

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kitsuvil · 2 years

Text

vyn richter - hanahaki disease (gn! reader)

you have a deep affection for vyn richter, but he does not exactly reciprocate those feelings. (first person, open ending, pls use ur imagination to make it a happy ending, sad endings are depressing)

1.2k words

a flower.

and then another.

i stare at myself in the mirror, sick to my stomach with how long this has been going on. how long i’ve had to keep it hidden. both my feelings and this bothersome illness. i grab the moist flower petals that fell into the sink and throw them into the garbage, putting on a fake smile and leaving my apartment. when you’re painfully in love, life doesn’t stop for you. it never will.

i look down at my phone after hearing a ring, as much as i don’t want to pick it up because it’s probably vyn checking in on me for work, i can’t just ignore it. “good morning, dr. richter. i’m on my way to work right now and i made sure to have breakfast, you don’t have to bug me about it,” i give a little chuckle. every morning he calls to make sure i’m safe and taking care of myself and then you’d wonder why exactly i catch feelings. but those feelings may never be voiced, lest i ruin the current relationship he’s in, as well as our own friendship. not to mention he’s my superior and i’m no more than a student to him.

“good morning, that’s good to hear y/n, the office has free coffee if you’re in the mood to pick some up, i know i didn’t want to wake up this morning until i had some caffeine in my body.”

“you got that right, i’m definitely not off to a good start today, i’ll make sure to pick some up, say thanks to whoever bought them for me!”

“i’ll make sure to, i hope you feel better soon.”

“thank you, dr. richter. we have a meeting today, right? i’ll make sure to be at my best by then. i’ll see you soon.”

i hang up, hands clutching my beating heart as i feel the familiar feeling rise through my chest and up into my throat. i let out a cough, making sure that no one got the chance to see the flash of color come out from my mouth. “it’s fine, y/n. you can do this.”

i attempt to block out the thoughts racing through my head, reducing my mind to only focus on the click-clack of my shoes on the concrete sidewalk. listening in on other people’s conversations, staring at the gray buildings, some with a sweet pop of color. before i can realize where exactly i am, i’ve made it to the building. vyn richter’s psychological research and therapy building. or, the building where i work underneath dr. richter as his apprentice, one of them. i’m constantly reminded of the fact that though it comes across clearly when vyn cares for a person, i am one of many and at the end of the day i don’t seem all that special. not to myself, not to vyn.

and i especially pale in comparison to his current girlfriend, who i happen to see running across the hallway, right into vyn’s arms. i turn away immediately, facing the direction i was originally going anyway. i'd rather not see that right now. i'll take up that free coffee and get to work instead. the faster i get finished the longer the break i get is.

at least the coffee doesn't taste bad. it has a perfect sweetness to it, it's exactly how i normally order my coffee and it was marked with my name as well, who the hell leaked my coffee order?

"morning, y/n!" my coworker calls out from across where i normally sit. "good morning!" i wave to them as i pull out my chair, setting down my belongings on the table. the computer screen glows a bright white color after i reach over to press the power button. "hey, you got your coffee right?! did you hear, dr. richter was actually the one to buy them!" another colleague comes running into the office. i turn back to look at her with shock, "does he really know all our orders? then again, i shouldn't be surprised, should i?"

"that's exactly what i was thinking, he's the best boss ever."

"i can hear you guys, you're very welcome, though i wouldn't say i'm the best boss ever. i thought i'd treat you all for how much work you've been putting in lately. please, enjoy without worry." vyn himself walks into the room, his girlfriend next to him. she's also his coworker. just like us. he's also her boss.

so why can't it be me instead. she's always beside him. it's been years now, but he's never shown a single emotion that could mean he has feelings for me too. we spend so much time together, in meetings and on outings, but we've always just been… friends, coworkers.

the moment i realize how far i'm digging into my negative thoughts, it's gone too far. it starts slow, a slight choking feeling in my throat, but in a few seconds i'm gripping my table with my fingers as they turn white, holding back a coughing fit. a flower fit.

"the meeting is set to start in 30 minutes, i'll see all of you there, alright? work hard for me. i'll be off - or not,"

vyn quickly runs to me, seeing the state i'm in physically.

"are you alright, y/n? can you talk?"

the tears begin to brim in my eyes. not in front of him, please not in front of him. i could care less if it was just my coworkers… but, his girlfriend is here, he's right next to me, the stress is rushing to my brain and i feel as if i'll just explode any second.

the flowers start to fall to the floor in a successive order. one after the other. the rose petals, the colors of flowers that bloom only in summer, winter, in the day, or in the night, petals from orchids and tulips, every colorful plant you could ever think of that has pertinence to love. pink, rosey colored azaleas fall into the mix. white, reflective, and beautiful lilies. some thorns that scratch my throat on their way down, only making the burning feeling worse as the salty tears flow down at the same pace.

if this was a different situation, you could say that i naturally created one of the most beautiful bouquets ever. it felt like an abstract art piece of just flowers. but on the inside, i felt disgusting, embarrassed. i wanted to disappear. and so i did. i grew physically weaker and weaker until i lost control over my own body and all i saw was pitch black.

but then i woke up. my eyes slowly adjusted to the lights and it was very much the lights from the ceiling of a hospital. i'm alive. the constant burning in my chest was still there, but i was already used to it from the years of pain. what i didn't expect and was not used to was the feeling of someone by my side on this hospital bed.

but i was too tired to question it. maybe it's vyn by my side. maybe not.

though if it is, "i'll be here waiting for you, forever, it doesn't matter the pain i go through, because i can't stop myself. i'll be here until the end of time, vyn richter."

the soft, muffled cries of guilt went unheard by my ears, as i had already closed my eyes once again and was sound asleep.

this took me all night to write but i honestly enjoyed it sm, of course not the sad-ish ending but,, we don't have enough vyn reader hanahaki disease works so <3 i wish i could say there's a bunch of happier fluff coming on the way but... keep ur eyes peeled for a kamisato ayato angst though !

#vyn x reader #vyn richter x reader #tot #tearsofthemis #angst #tears of themis angst #hanahaki #hoyoverse #vyn angst #vyn richter angst

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hotcoffeetransformation · 3 years

Text

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

#musclegrowth #straight to gay #jockification #himbo tf #jock #muscle

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lemonluvgirl · 2 years

Text

Memories

Takes place in a Canon divergent AU where Katniss was captured and hijacked instead of Peeta. Smut warning ⚠️ I've had this one on the back burner for a while and I don't think I'll ever use it. I've kinda scrapped the idea but I still love the scene so I thought I'd post it for fun anyways. Please enjoy 😉

Katniss

I kick open the door with a frustrated and completely fed up motion. I charge in, ready to lecture Johanna about taking the plunge and facing her fears and all that stupid shit she tried to sell me earlier.

“Just get in the damn tub you chicken sh--” I start to say as I clear the door and turn towards the shower/tub.

But instead of a terrified, naked, and filthy Joanna hesitating near the tub, I find something completely different. I choke out a strangled gasp, I am not prepared for the sight that greets me.

Naked.

It's the only thought that my mind can process as I blink in disbelief.

He must have been taking a bath. What had Johanna said about letting Deen take a shower in the morning since the water wasn’t working in his sector? If Deen had showered in the morning...then I guess his roommate had come to bathe in the afternoon.

Peeta.

I caught him in the middle of lifting himself out of the tub. His blond hair looks darker when it's wet, and I can’t believe for a second I never thought of that. In all the times I tried to reconstruct my memories of him, it never occurred to me. It's plastered over his forehead in damp waves. His face is in a state of total shock, eyes wide, mouth agape, cheeks flushed and rosey. He’s quite a sight.

And it's so beautiful it hurts. Something in the back of my mind starts to flicker and burn.

I want to look away, I want to run out, to save myself from the inevitable episode, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I can’t look at his face anymore though. Instead of doing the smart thing and getting the hell out, I do the opposite. My eyes snap back in his direction. I look at him again. All of him.

Thick muscular arms poised on the edge of the tub, lifting his large strong body, and holding it suspended like my mind, caught in this moment that seems to stretch on and on.

I look. I stare. I gawk.

I ogle him.

My eyes follow the path the drops of water are taking as they slide down his firm chest and stomach. His skin is pale, much lighter than my own. There is blond hair, very light and almost invisible that changes the path of the water as it trails down his skin. I can’t stop my eyes following that descent, down and down over his chest, his torso, his stomach and hips…

Down to the place where my ravenous eyes meet what I've been wondering about ever since he told me some of the memories were real. His flesh twitches under the weight of my survey of his body. Dark blond curls with an almost copper tint make my hands tremble in response. I can’t remember if the hair felt soft or not under my fingertips.

What had it been like? To touch him? Surely it couldn’t have been all bad, based on the frequency he once told me about. Why do something that much unless there was some good in it? I feel like an idiot for wanting to find out. My head feels like it's splitting open, yet I can’t tear my eyes away.

He begins to harden under my gaze, and it should shock me, or even disgust me. I’m not even sure what about this scenario he finds erotic. I’m still fully clothed. I admit to myself that I’m surprised at his reaction, but I’m not afraid. There's this feeling in the air I can't quite describe, but it isn't the usual animosity that crackles about me when he’s near, or anything close to it. Neither of us has said a word or moved an inch. He’s staring at me, waiting for me to do something, say something. But my eyes catch on his left leg. The one that ends in a stump of amputated flesh just above the knee. There is something about that...something…. I know I’m not afraid or repulsed. It's the opposite? Maybe? I feel my heart beat haphazardly and a deep low throbbing pulse starts in my lower abdomen. I wonder incredulously for a moment why the sight of this part of him affects me more than all the muscles and thickening...

But all I can think about is….

They never twisted the image of his fully naked body in my mind. They had never found a body double to fool me with. His eyes and shoulders, hands, and lips, yes. They had taken everything I’d confessed that I found attractive about him on tape and turned it against me. They had focused on the surface images, the things most noticeable. But not the rest of his naked body. After all, how does one describe every inch and dip and curve of a former lover? I could probably sit and stare at his naked form all day and still not find the right words to sum him up. And right now I’m looking at the trademark blonde hair on his head. I’m not caught up in his riptide blue gaze. I’m drinking in the rest of him with my eyes.

I hadn’t counted on it liking this much.

That was the problem. My brain was short firing off against the images, and the words associated with them.

Fuck, and screw, and rut, and all the other words that they had drilled into my brain. Their words. Making my memories feel cheap and disgusting. I can still recall their insults, ringing in my ears as I tried to get a grasp on this moment. Those words felt like they didn’t fit when I looked at him. The thing they told me he and I had done when we were together, that we fucked, it felt…inadequate to describe what was simmering in the back of my mind. I didn’t know if it was because the truth was much better or much worse than what they had tried to brainwash me into believing. I couldn't picture it even though he was here in the flesh, naked and hard for me, and getting harder by the second.

My mouth felt suddenly dry. That feeling between my legs had grown quickly from a throbbing pulse to an achy insistent drumbeat pounding away inside of me with the rhythm of my own heart. I felt a little dazed.

My eyes refocused, I opened my mouth to say something, and his hand slipped on the edge of the tub. I lunged forward before he could faceplant on the hard tile.

I took the brunt of his weight when we fell, even though he tried to put his arms out to catch himself.

I got the wind knocked out of me. He seemed to be in shock. His blue eyes boring into mine incredulously. I looked away as I tried to breathe. Finally, I gasped and took in a lungful of air. He noticed he was crushing me, and scrambled to get up.

But my hands wrapped around him of their own accord, stopping his escape. I deliberately trapped him on top of me.

The delicious heat of his body, and the weight of him over me, it felt of all things in that one moment….familiar.

I held him to me, pressed him back down onto my chest, as I wrapped my hands around him, caging him to me in a way that made my mind and body shiver. The tile felt cool and cold against my back through the gray jumpsuit. But the front half of my body felt like it was on fire. But it was a good kind of heat, an intoxicating kind, like white liquor scorching through my veins. And I was only too happy to burn at that moment.

Familiar…

So familiar…

What a wondrous word. What a feeling. After weeks of searching and failing and seizing and fighting and drinking and failing some more, finally...this.

I abandoned all caution, said not a word in explanation as I let my hands run free over the expanse of his back, his sides, his ass, down and down, until I was brushing my hands over the back of his thighs.

When I felt the end of his left leg under my fingertips, he flinched. But it did something to me. It changed things. And suddenly I knew. They had never faked this. The other one, NotPeeta, hadn't been so committed to his role that he had let them cut off his leg.

This was real.

My mind and my body both felt it. The war that had been raging inside me stilled, like a moment of peace when the eye of the storm passed overhead.

And suddenly I didn’t want to lose it, this feeling. I want to keep it and turn it over and look at it and figure it out. I wanted to swim in it for hours and days. I wanted more.

And want changed from desire to need.

So I gently caressed the end of the leg he had lost because of me. And with my other hand I pressed his hips down into mine. And with my mouth I started trailing sloppy, wet, hungry kisses across his chest.

“Wha???” Was his only startled reply. But I proactively cut off his questions as I lifted my hips and bucked into him. Eliciting a deep strangled groan from his throat. I liked the way it sounded. So I started kissing that too, his neck, his jaw, his collarbone.

And it was like being in two places at once, or in my case in the moment that it was happening and also reliving things in my mind. There were memories that were not linear or sequential or even intact. No, these were like tattered pieces of old maps, knit together with images and words to try and form a coherent picture. In my mind I had a bird’s eye view of an image that was too large, too monumental, and too haphazardly pieced together to take in at once. It confounded me….

But the feelings, they shot up and unfurled before my mind like fireworks, bursting into a million pieces and raining down over me.

I felt him, breathed him in, tasted him...

I remembered.

I knew him again.

The texture of the skin of his back underneath my hands. The lines of his body as he pressed into mine. The way he smelled right after a shower. Clean and fresh but still masculine and a bit earthy like the species he used to use when baking.

Oh...baking….I remembered that too.

Cinnamon and dill and lemon zest and anise and so many others, on his clothes, on the collars of his shirts because he’d always wipe his hands on the back of his neck when he finished putting the finishing touches on a recipe.

Not Peeta had never smelled as good as the real thing I realized.

I licked the hollow of the real Peeta’s neck as he moaned against my hair, and it felt like triumph. His breaths were short and ragged against my ear. He was so hard now, I could feel him all steel and hot heaviness against the top of my thigh.

I didn’t want him against my thigh.

I wanted him...I wanted to know, to remember what it felt like….I parted my legs to allow him to settle between them. He seemed startled by my shifting positions to allow him access to the space in my center. I countered his trepidation with a well placed roll of my hips. He hissed as if in pain and screwed his eyes shut for a second, as he panted.

I was wet, sopping actually, after that. It would be humiliating if he weren’t so hard.

He was ready, so was I.

It was a quick decision, but a sure one. I reached down between us and shoved my pants and underwear down my body, as far as my arms could reach without unseating him.

But he broke the unspoken rule and said something then.

“Katniss? What are we doing? What is this?” He asked in an incredulous voice. I searched my mind for an answer, anything really that would make sense. How could I tell him I was actually trying to make sense of things I didn’t understand and this was part of that?

“It's….whatever we want it to be... I...I remembered something. I remembered...more than just one something. I remembered it felt good to have you. That….that feeling. I want to have it again.” I finally managed to get the words out, but they were so stilted, so vague, I wasn’t sure they had any effect or gave any real answers.

“It's too dangerous. You could have an attack-” He began to say, his brow crinkled in worry as he tried to lean away, and I bit my bottom lip. I wrapped my leg around his complete one to stop him from leaving. I didn’t want to stop because of fear. Fear owns everything in me these days. And I didn’t want this moment, this feeling to be one of them.

“My head feels calm. Peaceful for the first time in weeks. It's my body that’s on fire now…” I tell him and he inhales a sharp breath.

“Shit, don’t say things like that…” He replies, his fortitude waning. His eyes locked on my mouth.

“Why not? It's true. That’s what you wanted isn't it? For me to be able to be calm around you again? To be able to touch you….” I ask as I run my hands up and down his naked skin. It makes him shiver.

“I didn’t want...not like this, not out of nowhere. You can barely stand to look me in the eye sometimes!” He exhales loudly, but doesn’t pull away. If anything he leans into my touch.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It helped me, seeing...everything else, the rest of you. It helped me remember…” I say as I massage the end of his severed leg gently. There is scar tissue there, I can feel it underneath the surface of the skin. That is familiar too. And it makes me want him all the more.

“What do you remember?” He asks cautiously. His eyes are full of trepidation but also a longing so fierce I can feel my body respond readily to that look as more wetness seeps out of me. I exhale shakily and grin, because if he was hoping to be dissuaded he should have asked a different question.

“How it felt to have you on top of me, your body over mine.” The words made him dig reflexively into me, and I arched against him. He looked slightly embarrassed at his overtly sexual response to my words but I wasn’t. This was good, I decided. And I kept going.

“The smell of your skin. The taste of it. The way we fit together. The way your eyes used to close shut so tight when I was on top….” I trailed off as he slammed his eyes closed, as if he was trying to ward off the memory. He groaned when I pressed my palm flat along his spine to keep him flush against me.

“How warm I was when we were together. The feeling of your hips moving with mine. The way you tasted in my mouth….all of you…” I whispered the last part in his ear and I felt him jerk above me, I responded by digging my nails into his shoulder blades to hold him to me.

“Holy fuck...Katniss…” He murmured against my lips, desperate and pleading. For me to keep going or to stop, I didn’t know. I didn’t think he knew either. Then his eyes flew open, and he sucked in a breath.

“I can’t! What if you get hurt? Just because I couldn’t keep it in my pants-” He began angrily chastising himself before we’d even done anything. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He pulled back slightly, supporting more of his weight with his forearms on either side of me, readying to lift himself off me.

I decided I’d had enough of the arguing. While he had been trying to talk himself out of it, I‘d been working my underwear and pants further down my body until I had enough leeway to widen my leg’s position.

He was hard enough and I was wet enough, I knew this instinctively. Even if I didn’t exactly remember everything about the sex we used to have clearly, I knew enough of the basics. So when I raised my hips up in a spectacular display of accurate positioning and wanton recklessness, he realized a little too late what my goal was. I took him half inside me with one thrust of my hips against his. He gasped deliciously at the same time I did.

Then, he cursed long and hard, as he struggled to keep still. I lay panting underneath him, trying to get accustomed to the feeling of being filled again. He was stretching me, and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. It almost made me want to laugh at all the times Johanna called me a quasi-virgin since my experiences and partners were so limited. Maybe she had been right in a way. I certainly felt tight and tense from underuse or maybe anxiousness.

I really didn’t know how long it had been since the last time I’d had sex. Probably a good while. At least since before I got captured. I could probably ask him, and maybe he’d actually tell me, when this was over.

But then again, maybe it didn’t really matter. All I really cared about in this exact moment was the feeling of him filling me.

I rocked against him a little and he gasped. Then, as if sensing the battle was pretty much lost, he relented and finally pushed himself all the way in, with a half pleased, half frustrated groan. Then it was my turn to gasp again as he hit home deep within me. He swallowed the noise as his lips crashed over mine. I was only afraid of kissing him for half a second, because the sensation when he began to move his hips took over completely. I felt him, in me so deep. I lifted up to meet his thrusts, once and I began to see stars, twice and I moaned like an exquisitely wounded creature, thrice and I shattered completely.

The feeling was wonderfully annihilating.

“Fuck, you’re coming! Oh...shit...it's been too damn long-'' He managed to choke the words out as I gripped him relentlessly, my internal muscles spasming hard and fast. He sputtered on his words, even his groans came out broken, they died out in his throat as I moaned and gasped under him. It was intense, so intense, my orgasm seemed almost aggressive, even to me. I was thoroughly surprised when he managed to hang no and not finish. But I could tell by the way his body was shaking that he had just barely held back.

He stopped moving entirely, even held my hips still so I couldn’t move. I whimpered under him and I hated the horribly weak sound as soon as it escaped. But he just hushed me and hugged me to his chest with one arm while he was still propped up and keeping most of his weight off me with the other.

“I don’t want this to be over in five minutes.” He tells me in a soft voice as he bends to rest his forehead on mine.

I breathe against him deeply, trying to find a way to tell him that’s actually what I need. I don’t want to give my mind time to override my body and trigger a flash. I don’t want time to over think. I just want to feel him, because right now feeling him is unlocking things I thought I’d lost forever.

“Peeta,” I say with a shaky breath, and he tenses, even his name on my lips causes him to shudder inside of me, “don’t stop. I want to remember. I don’t want to give it time for the shiny memories to catch up. I need….please.” I beg, and close my eyes to try and rid myself of the embarrassment from having to ask.

“Darling,” He breathes against my lips and I gasp quietly, I hadn’t remembered that endearment. But it too sounded familiar. I reveled in the sweet knowledge of it. Tucking it away, this thing that was both old and new to me.

“Whatever you need. Always.” He tells me before capturing my mouth again and stroking me with his tongue, as he simultaneously started stroking inside of me in deep, slow motions. I sucked the kisses from his lips, wondering if this might be the only way I’d be able to kiss him now. Only during sex? When I was distracted and my brain overridden by endorphins, probably.

He was a good kisser. I thought absentmindedly, as his tongue coaxed mine into dancing with his for a few moments before his building rhythm had me panting and shuddering underneath him. He groaned, and adjusted his angle, so that his pelvic bone hit me just right.

I moan, louder than before and he curses as he sucks on a tender spot near the pulse point on my neck. I smile, as hazy memories of him cursing surge up, and crash over me as he drives me on. It's strange, the way I automatically lent myself to his lead. But I didn’t think I have ever felt so safe. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt secure like this.

And that was the thought that pushed me over. I fell, swiftly and completely unraveled around him. I was further undone by the ease and familiarity he displayed with my body as he moved in time with my climax, drawing out my pleasure and multiplying it. It shook off the ever present shadows of doubt and hopelessness in that moment until I was weightless and unburdened. I sucked in a deep shuddering breath, like I usually did after they resuscitated me during a waterboarding session. But this time my lungs didn’t ache, I didn’t vomit up a liter of water, and the only slightly alarming moisture on my face came from a few tiny drops that fell from his blond bangs as he rocketed between my thighs, shouting his own release above me.

I sheltered him in my arms as he finished, relishing the way his lashes fluttered delicately against his cheeks which was at odds with the way he had gritted his teeth while in his throes. Finally he calmed, and we lay quietly, the only sounds being our ragged breathing and our thundering heartbeats.

He opened his eyes, very close to my own. And I felt like someone shot me through the heart.

His eyes were so incredibly blue. They were like nothing I’d ever seen before. And without a speck of green in sight.

I leaned up and kissed him softly. This amazingly, caused him to choke out a quiet sob that he immediately tried to muffle and tramp down. But his face was so close to mine I could see the moisture welling up around the rim, and spilling over his bottom lashes. I rubbed my hands up and down his back, soothingly, unsure what to do or say. I didn’t really understand why I had brought on these tears. I for one felt incredible.

But maybe I had been different? Maybe it wasn’t like before? Maybe it wasn’t any good…

The ugly dark claws of the doubt and guilt I had had a moment’s respite from, slammed back into me.

“I’m sorry...if it wasn’t….I don’t know...maybe I’ve changed-” I began in a slightly humiliated whisper that bordered on anger.

“What? Katniss, no. Don’t think that for a second! You’re perfect, so perfect. I’m...I’m just happy. Sorry for acting like an idiot and a-a-”

I leaned up and kissed him again, not wanting to know what insult he’d use on himself. I was just relieved I hadn’t monumentally screwed up the first time I had sex since my brain got scrambled. He kissed me back softly, and discreetly withdrew from my body. But he didn’t break the kiss or try to leave. He just kept kissing me like he never wanted to stop even though we were both more than satisfied.

The kiss was more than gratification, more than hunger, it was like sealing something profound.

Which was ironic considering I’d pretty much just jumped him without warning and we’d ended up screwing on the bathroom floor.

Which uhhhh now that I thought about it… wow. How did that even happen? And what the heck was wrong with me? I’d been spending way too much time with Joanna.

“You must be cold. We should get off this floor.” He said with a slightly concerned smile when he finally broke away. He reached out with his hand tentatively and stroked down the side of my cheek with the back of his knuckle. I closed my eyes. He had done this before too.

There was another memory wrapped up in that motion. It was peaceful and content and heartbreakingly sweet….

I could almost feel the silk of the sheets beneath me, almost recall the lingering scent of our sex hanging in the air...

Then again, we’d just had sex in this room. So maybe my sense of smell wasn’t harkening back to old remnants of memories. The tile was a little hard on my back, and cold. I blinked away the foggy reminiscence and smiled back up at him. It was like his heart was in his eyes at that moment. He was so beautiful. But he had just enough masculine features to also be handsome. It was strange. Actually being able to look at him up close after not being able to look at him for so long. I wondered when my mind would switch back into hijacked mode. If the chemicals my body produced because of our sex was currently keeping the shiny memories at bay, like the morphling did when they showed me tapes of our past, how long did I have before it all caught up with me? I reached up my own hand to caress his cheek.

And the action felt bizarrely more intimate than what we’d just done minutes before. Our gazes locked, and he seemed to be searching for something again. I didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe he had his own blue sky that always seemed just out of reach. We both started to say something at exactly the same moment, when the door banged open.

“Brainless, I forgot to mention Loverboy’s gonna come by later-” She starts to yell loudly as she turns toward the tub.

Her eyes catch on us wrapped up together on the floor. He’s naked and I’ve got my pants around my ankles. But at least he’s still covering my naked half with his own body, and Johanna’s eyes light up with a wild manic glee.

“Well I guess he already came.” She says with an evil smirk. Peeta makes a kind of odd croaking sound, but doesn’t seem to be able to speak. Johanna, seeing our obvious discomfort, begins to laugh her head off.

“Jo, get the hell out of here!” I scream at her when she doesn’t budge from the spot after laughing for a full 10 seconds.

“I knew this would happen! I called it!” She yells in triumph when I’m about 5 seconds away from getting up and kicking her ass not caring about being half naked. But then she just winks over at Peeta, and with a very pointed last glance at his bare ass, she turns around and leaves.

“That couldn’t have gone worse.” He says with a groan as he finally rolls away and lifts himself up on shaky arms to sit by the tub. I hurriedly pull up my underwear and pants with mild embarrassment. He rubs his right arm a little, and I realize then that his arms are probably sore, since he had to put most of his weight on them during our entire encounter. I flush at my own thoughtlessness. Without his prosthetic it must have been hell on his good knee. And yet I hadn’t even noticed anything amiss with his rhythm during the whole encounter.

“Here,” I say as I reach over and grab his prosthetic and hand it to him.

“Thanks,” He says gratefully. I watch in fascination as he fits it to his leg.

I go to the counter to grab his neatly folded up clean jumpsuit and towel and when I turn around to hand it to him he’s already standing and staring at me.

Well...now things are just awkward. And he’s still naked. I blush like an idiot even though we just had sex. I quickly handed him his clothes and towel without meeting his eyes.

“I need to change too,” I say looking down at my jumpsuit, which is now wet all along the front where he was pressed against me.

“Oh, yesh sorry about-” He says in a slightly awkward, slightly amused tone.

“Not your fault,” I interrupt before I bolt out of the bathroom.

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (14/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

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

Chapter Summary: Leaving is the only option - right?

Warnings: angst, blood (but not much), break up, drug addiction (mentioned), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: hello lovies. I'm back and my mind is full of ideas! I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous chapter

You watch the coffee in your cup as if it has all the answers for the future hidden in the caffeine. It's eight o'clock in the morning, and this is already your third cup of the sacred liquid, and you're sure it won't be your last. The shadows under your eyes are a sign of your nightmares that haunted you last night. The fact that you have them doesn't bother you, after all, you've been going through the procedure for months. What bothers you is the fact that you couldn't wake yourself up this time. You've gotten in the habit of pinching yourself when it would get too painful, but something stopped you last night. And the fact that you don't know what exactly bothers you the most.

"Y/N." Emily's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you have to tear your gaze away from your coffee. "What do you think?"

All eyes are on you and out of nervousness you'd like to slide around in your chair, but suppress the urge. You haven't been listening for the last few minutes, too busy with your own thoughts and problems that you can't answer her. The case is supposed to be your last, and you're trying hard to enjoy it and value the time with your friends, but really you're just waiting for it all to be over. Most of all, you want to pack your things and leave.

You barely noticeably shake your head for Emily to continue, and turn your attention back to your coffee, which must be cold by now, but that doesn't stop you from drinking it down to the last drop. Without saying anything, you get up from your chair to get another one, paying no attention to Emily's annoyed look. As you fill your cup in the precinct kitchen, she stands right next to you.

"You're not being very helpful, Y/N," she says coolly as you take a sip. You know her manner is all pretense, because in reality she's incredibly concerned. She only needs to look at your face once to know what's going on in your head, but she doesn't address it. She knows you'll talk to her when the time is right. But you're not sure that will ever happen. "I've already assigned the tasks. You stay here and work with Spencer to gather all the important information that may be relevant to Penelope's research." The look on your face says it all. You don't want to spend any time with Spencer, and certainly not alone, but Emily gives you no choice. Before you can say anything back, she disappears out the door with the others.

With your coffee, which you now wish had a strong shot of vodka in it, you make your way back into the conference room, where Spencer is bent over the table, passing pictures and notes back and forth. You stop in the doorway and watch him for a brief moment, and only then do you notice the narrow, red scratch on his face that stretches from his cheek to his neck. You squint your eyes. It hadn't been there yesterday after all.

"What happened?“, you ask as casually as you can as you sit down and set your cup down on the table. As Spencer looks at you questioningly, you point to his face. "Looks bad." Indeed it does, though it's just a scratch. There's bloody crust in a few places, contrasting in color with his pale skin. Something really got to him.

"Cut myself shaving“, he replies curtly, glancing again at the pictures in front of him. You haven't seen him in two years, don't actually remember who he is exactly, but you still know when he's lying. And when to stop asking and let it go. When Penelope calls, you discuss some stuff and you see Spencer scratching over the wound until it bleeds, which he doesn't seem to notice, which is why you stall Penelope on the phone and grab his hand as soon as the line goes silent. Astonished, he looks at you before looking at his fingers.

"Come with me“, you say briefly and don't even wait for him to follow you. You approach an officer and ask for a first aid kit, which is immediately made available to you. Spencer follows you uncertainly into one of the washrooms, where you already put on the disposable gloves from the box - you don't want any bacteria to get on the wound - and wet a towel from the towel dispenser. Reluctantly, Spencer leans against one of the sinks, waiting for your instructions.

"Tilt your head to the side a little, please." You take the damp cloth and gently dab along the scratch to remove the dried blood. Spencer has to swallow at the touch and you see his Adam's apple bob, and really it shouldn't be that attractive, unfortunately it is anyway. You have to concentrate because this is the closest you've been to him in years. You breathe in his scent, feel his warmth through your gloves, and can barely stifle a deep breath.

"How do you know how to do that?“, he asks softly as you disinfect the wound, and Spencer has to pull himself together to keep from reacting to the burning from the alcohol.

You look at him briefly before turning your attention back to the scratch. „Experience“, you reply, spreading some wound healing ointment over it before taking off your gloves and disposing of everything in the trash can. You then put the first aid kit back together. As you turn around, Spencer is standing right in front of you.

"You didn't tell me you were having nightmares“, he whispers, and confused, you look at him. There's concern in his gaze, and if you're not mistaken, a little affection too, but you push the thought aside, not letting yourself have hope. Hope has only harmed you lately you have not moved forward a bit.

You look once more at the scratch, and then into his warm eyes. "You didn't cut yourself shaving“, you count one and one together and clench your jaws. He doesn't need to answer. You did this to him, you just don't remember. The reason you didn't wake up is Spencer. He was probably holding you, reassuring you so much that your body turned off its protective mechanism. It had certainly been the last time he did that, and you hadn't been awake to enjoy it.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?“, he asks, wanting to reach for your hand, but you take a step back. You don't want him to touch you. You'd prefer it if you weren't in this situation at all. You'd prefer that you hadn't come back at all. None of this should have ever happened.

"It's none of your business anymore, Spencer." Your tone is cool and something in his face changes.

"I thought we were friends."

You have to suppress a laugh. Two years ago, you could have lived well with being friends with him. You were prepared for it then, wished it on him, and meant it sincerely. Only lately you've been through so much that you can't even imagine it anymore. The two years had been hell, but you are sure that you can't live next to him without being able to be with him. You can't watch him and Max be happy together, and even though his happiness is everything you want, you'd rather he be happy with you. But you can't tell him that, it would be unfair and selfish. So you just look at him.

Then you reach for the small suitcase and push past him towards the exit.

You're glad when the case is over and you arrive back at Quantico. It's been a week since you and Spencer spoke, and luckily for you, you've continued to be spared nightmares, for which you're quite grateful. Not that Spencer is going to join you in bed one more time to calm you down.

As you walk from the airfield back to the building, you fall back a bit, watching the team joke and laugh with each other despite their fatigue. Most of all, you'd like to leave right now without saying goodbye. Rip off the band-aid, without anesthesia. Short and painless. But your plan is foiled when Emily suddenly walks up beside you and puts a hand on your arm.

"We're going for a drink." She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Apparently she's waiting for you to decline the invitation, and all too gladly you'd like to meet her expectations, but it's almost certainly the last night you'll see each other, at least for an extended period of time, and short and painless wouldn't be fair to her - your best friend.

You smile at her. "You're paying for the first round."

Her eyes widen in delight, but before she can say anything back, Luke, who has overheard your conversation, interferes. "We're going out for drinks?" A grin spreads across his face, almost reaching his ears, and suddenly the rest of the team pricks up their ears. Luke's gaze is fixed on you. "I bet I can drink you under the table by now, Y/N."

„You can’t“, Matt replies, and you see Rossi smile to himself. "Last time you did that, you almost passed out after four shots."

"JJ got the drinks. Maybe she mixed something in“, Luke tries to defend himself, but the blonde raises her hands.

"I'm not responsible for your kindergarten drinking. But I'd love to see you try to drink Y/N under the table." She smiles at you and winks, and you can't help but grin. It feels good to know that all is well between you and the team, even though they know with a high probability that you won't be staying. You'd understand if they were mad at you, but that doesn't seem to be the case. JJ looks at Spencer, who is being less than forthcoming. "You coming, Spence?"

He risks a quick glance in your direction before adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows this will be your last night. And that you won't see each other again after this. "I think I'll sit this one out“, he replies curtly, but JJ nudges him and he gives her a dirty look.

"You can't avoid it, Spence."

You'd rather he'd gone home.

The first drinks are on Emily, as promised, and the ones after that are on Rossi, and it's actually not long before Luke is sitting at the table with a glass of water, wishing he'd slowed down. You grin at him from the dance floor where JJ and you are swinging your hips, and he sticks his tongue out at you before putting his head in his hands and sipping water through the straw in his glass.

JJ reaches for your hand and pulls you close before wrapping her arms around your neck. "I'm going to miss you“, she almost yells so you can hear her over the loud music. You smile weakly at her. There's a glint in her eyes, probably from the alcohol, and only now do you realize how much you're really going to miss her.

"I'm going to miss you too“, you reply, risking a quick glance in Spencer's direction. He's sitting next to Luke, looking completely out of place. You look back to JJ and without further ado, she puts her hands to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your mouth. When she pulls away from you again, she just grins at you. "What was that for?"

"I want you to know that we love you. We all do. Remember that when you're lonely, and call if you need anything. You are and always will be a part of our weird family."

You wait a brief moment before pulling away from her and disappearing into the ladies' room. As soon as the door slams shut, tears stream down your cheeks and you have to hold onto the edge of the sink to keep from breaking down. You were aware of how much the others would miss you, but hearing it from JJ only makes it more real. By leaving, you're not only leaving Spencer behind, but everyone else as well, and that's so selfish of you that bile rises inside you and you almost throw up. You wish you hadn't had those last two drinks.

"Y/N?" You don't have to turn around to know it's Spencer. You recognized his voice and can see him in the mirror above the sink.He's standing behind you, unsure of what exactly to do, which is why he buries his hands in his pants pockets and looks at you silently.

You wipe the smeared mascara from under your eyes before turning and leaning against the basin. "This is the ladies' room, Spencer. You're not supposed to be in here.“

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be“, he replies, but doesn't move from the spot. He watches you brush your hair out of your forehead and wipe at your hot face to get rid of the tears. "You don't have to go. You know that, right?"

You look up from your shoes, straight into his eyes. "Yes, I do."

You want to leave the washroom, but his fingers curl around your arm, holding you back. "Y/N ..."

"I can't stay, Spencer. I can't look at you without knowing that someone other than me is waiting for you at home. I can't watch you be happy without me. It's okay, really. It's just that I don't have the strength to watch it anymore." The words just bubble out of you, and for some reason you can't stop. But it feels good to say it out loud, even though you certainly shouldn't. "I love you, Spencer. I'll always love you. But I'm at the end of my rope." You shrug in exasperation. "I have to think about me. I can only think about me." Spencer's face contorts painfully, but you can't stop. "To think that you're about to go to Max's and do God knows what ..." You shake your head, as if it might drive the thoughts from your mind. "I feel like I - I - I can't breathe. Like I'm going to die. And I just can't take it anymore."

Spencer's hand comes away from your arm at your honesty, but only to grab your hand and pull you against him. You bounce against his chest, wanting to pull away, but he holds you tight and presses you to him with his other hand. Carefully, he places his palm against your cheek and gently strokes your skin with his thumb. "Please, don't go."

You look into his eyes, which have filled with tears. "Why not?"

You can practically see him struggling with himself. He wants to say something, but can't find the right words, so he presses his lips together and lets his forehead sink against yours. All he has to do is say it, and you'd throw all your plans out the window and stick around. Just a few words. But he doesn't say them. "I can't ..."

You take a deep breath before pulling away from him, disappointed. „Goodbye“, you whisper, before leaving him alone in the washroom.

Spencer sits uncertainly at the kitchen table, watching the tea bag with lemon balm in the cup in front of him. He doesn't actually like lemon balm, but he needs something to calm his nerves and get the trembling of his hands under control as he sits there searching for the right words.

The last time he had felt this helpless, Emily had just left his apartment and he had been about to make some phone calls. The first call would have been to a man who would have given him a different number. The second phone call would have been to a woman who would have transferred him. And the third number belonged to someone who would have given him what he was only too happy to get.

Many years ago, he had sworn to himself that he would never resort to it again. That he wouldn't need it. He would be stronger than the desire to feel nothing more. The only thing that had stopped him was that you would never wish that for him. That you had helped him then, had stood by him. He didn't want it to be in vain.

Spencer hates feeling so helpless, even though he actually knows exactly what he has to do now. That's why he sits in the kitchen in the middle of the night, cup of calming tea in hand, not daring to look at the woman sitting across from him. But he doesn't need to say anything either. She knows why he was at her door at such a late hour. They sit in silence, neither quite knowing what to do. Neither of them has been in this situation before. Spencer is glad she's the first to speak.

"So that's it." It's more of a statement than a question. Spencer nods silently, whereupon she purses her lips. "Because of her?"

Spencer looks up from his cup and looks directly at Max. Then he shakes his head. "No, not because of her."

She raises an eyebrow. "But what? Don't you dare give me that 'it's not you, it's me' tour. I've heard that one before."

Spencer has to think for a moment, find the right words, before he answers. "I've lost her so many times. I wouldn't survive it another time."

The two have known each other long enough. Max knows he's not exaggerating or meaning it metaphorically. He has told her about his addiction, and she had been very grateful at the time that he was so honest with her, even though they hadn't known each other long. Spencer knows that all of this is not healthy and psychologically quite far from reasonable and Maxine knows what she has gotten herself into. But no one could have guessed that it would end this way.

"I'm sorry." Spencer's voice sounds hoarse and raspy. He stands up and makes his way toward the apartment door.

"I hope you make it." There's so much honesty in her voice that Spencer has to smile sadly over his shoulder.Maxine doesn't deserve this. None of you deserve this.

The walk to Emily's apartment is short, but to Spencer it feels like an eternity. The train is late, which is why he actually starts running, afraid of missing his chance. He runs until his lungs are burning and his bag is banging painfully against his ribs.The few people left on the streets look at him askance, but he doesn't care. He's panting, barely getting his breath and wishing he was a little more athletic, but as he sprints around the next corner he can already see the building where Emily's apartment is located.

For a brief moment he considers taking a break, catching his breath, but he can't wait another second. Hopefully he's not too late.

He's not surprised that he can just walk into the building, even though he doesn't have a key. He sprints up the stairs, and runs down the hallways until he's gasping for breath and standing in front of the right door, his head high. He bangs on the door with a clenched fist, hoping it will open and he won't be too late. He can't be late. He can't be late.

Finally, the door opens, and for the first time in years, he can take a real breath.

"Y/N."

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid true lies #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #Jennifer jareau #luke alvez #Matthew simmons

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golden-van-fleet · 3 years

Text

spark- s.f.k.

word count: 1.9k (in less than an hour, I might add)

a/n: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve truly written anything, consider this my re-entry into the fanfic world. whew.

warnings: some cursing, angst? I guess?

____

Sam’s spark had dulled.

He knew it, his bandmates knew it, and he was fairly certain the fans knew it. During Greta Van Fleet’s most recent set, Sam had consistently missed cues and played wrong notes and chords, halting the effortless flow of their songs. He used to speak bass fluently, but it now felt as if his bass had learned a new language and left Sam light years behind. Creating music wasn’t the same, either. The melodies and lyrics that used to effortlessly flow out of him had hit a dam, concrete, unforgiving, unwavering.

In his personal life, his childlike zest for life was absent. The smiles that used to warm even the iciest of hearts no longer met his eyes. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed, let alone laughed until his stomach hurt and tears streamed from his eyes. His speaking voice fell flat, no longer intentionally rising and falling while he told stories. He relied on muscle memory to get through his days.

He’d changed and he didn’t know why.

“Sammy? Hey, dude, over here.” Danny’s voice snapped Sam back to reality. Somehow, he’d made it to the lobby of the hotel they’d be in for the next few days. “What’s up with you?”

Danny wasn’t saying it to be an asshole, Sam knew that much. His best friend had the biggest heart out of anyone he’d ever known and he knew Danny’s question came from a place of genuine care and love. But at the same time, Sam couldn’t help but sneer at the question. He thought about shooting the question back to Danny before stopping himself. It wasn’t Danny’s fault he was miserable; it wasn’t Jake’s or Josh’s, either. He knew better than to make someone else miserable just because he didn’t know how to properly handle his emotions.

“Just tired. Ready to sleep for a few days,” he responded curtly, making a beeline towards the elevator.

Danny exchanged a knowing glance with Jake and Josh, all three looking mournfully at the metal doors of the elevator. Sammy had quite literally found a way to block the three of them from his world.

“Someone’s gotta talk to him.” Josh started. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

The three of them waited for the elevator to return, once again looking between each other, hoping someone else would speak up first and volunteer. It wasn’t that they couldn’t talk to Sam, and it wasn’t that they didn’t necessarily want to, but they knew how explosive his temper could be. None of them wanted to be left vulnerable in the blast as Sam detonated.

“I’ll do it. He usually listens to me the most, anyway,” Jake answered, pushing onto the elevator first. Josh and Danny shrugged, the tension in that elevator never breaking. All three of them felt the weight of Sam’s current state, whether he knew that or not. They all wanted their little brother back.

Jake dropped off his bags in his own room before venturing to Sam’s door. He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could contact the wood, the door opened.

“I knew one of you would track me down,” Sam said weakly, stepping aside for Jake to enter. “If you’re here to yell at me about the show, don’t. I’ve already been beating myself up for an hour.”

Jake got a good look at his brother. He looked exhausted. Sam looked uncharacteristically pale and his eyes sunk into his face, the ghastly remains of someone who was usually so vibrant. “I’m not here to talk about the show. I couldn’t care less about it; we all fuck up in some way. I know you’re upset about that. I’m not going to add insult to injury.” Jake sat gingerly on the edge of Sam’s bed, facing his brother. “We’re worried about you. All of us.”

Sam froze at the door. He knew they were worried but they’d never said it to his face. It had never been that bad. It was always unspoken when one of them was concerning the others. They knew each other well enough to know that the person affected was aware of their state and in most cases would clean up their act before it got too destructive. “I know,” he offered meekly. God, he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. It would be so much easier if he could just teleport out of this room.

“You need to call her.” Jake didn’t beat around the bush. He was never as talkative as Josh because he knew he didn’t have to be. He called Sam out on his bullshit, and Sam called him out on his. Tough love was his specialty. “You can deny it all you want. You and I both know you haven’t been the same since you broke up. Talk to her. We need our Sam back.” With that, Jake left, his words hanging heavy in the air. Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe. Jake was right, of course, he was always right. Sam tried to weigh his options, but his choice was clear.

You’d been sitting at home, desperately trying to distract yourself. Your breakup with Sam still felt fresh, despite occurring almost four months ago. And if you were being honest with yourself, those four months had been miserable. You’d never known a love as consuming as the love you’d shared with Sammy. He brought an undeniable light to your life, a joy you’d never experienced with anyone else.

But supposedly, all good things come to an end. His touring schedule was too busy to dedicate the amount of time he knew you deserved. Your college career was coming to an end, and being so close to the finish line, your workload got harder and deadlines got shorter. The hardest part for both of you, though neither of you knew the effect it had on the other, was the breakup over the phone. You couldn’t have known your goodbye hug and kiss was the last one you’d be able to give him; if you had, you probably would’ve held him a little longer, a little tighter, and willed yourself to never let go.

Your ringtone pierced the silence in your apartment. Sam’s contact picture graced your screen. You smiled fondly at it before you could question why he was calling.

He’d taken you ice skating despite you both knowing neither of you were the most graceful people on this earth. By some stroke of luck, you’d found your rhythm far sooner than Sam did, skating laps around him while he clung to the railing, his laugh sounding the entire time. That was the night he first told you he loved you. You’d snapped the picture while he wasn’t looking, his profile warmed by Christmas lights in the background. He looked ethereal, the small smile gracing his lips warming your heart. Your favorite night with him was encapsulated in a photograph, a memory you could hold on to for as long as you could bear to keep it.

“Sam?”

“Y/N, hey,” he started, like he wasn’t the one to have called you. “How have you been?” His words were robotic and stale, like he didn’t really care to know how you were but felt it too impolite to not ask.

“I’m okay, I guess. What’s going on?” Your voice wavered between care and annoyance. Your last phone call with him hadn’t ended well- you didn’t expect this one to end much better.

“You know, show after show after show, hitting a couple bars in between, the usual.” He knew what you really meant when you asked him, but he couldn’t find the words. Taking a deep breath, he grounded himself before continuing. “I really miss you.”

Your heart stopped momentarily. The words you’d least expected had just left Sam’s mouth, weighing heavily on the other end of the line. “I miss you, too,” you said, admittedly before you could stop yourself.

Sam felt his broken heart mend itself. He hadn’t known it was still broken, but hearing the confirmation that you did, in fact, still miss him healed a wound he’d ignored for far too long. “I’m sorry. For everything. You deserve the world, and I still want to be the only person to give it to you.”

Instead of feeling relief, you felt an indescribable anger. You were far from okay, sure, but you were getting there. You were comfortable with the idea of a life without Sam in it. He’d made his decision before you had a chance to understand what was going on with him. How dare he?

But this was Sam. The same Sammy who understood you in a way no one else had attempted to. He wore his heart on his sleeve, the same heart that had once been yours. The same heart that, apparently, was still yours. Sam felt like home. Sam was your home, despite your vow to yourself that you’d never let yourself find your happiness in another person.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Sam’s voice broke the silence. His heart was racing, threatening to break his ribs and burst from his chest.

“Sam…” you trailed off, your mind racing. “What do you want from me?” You whispered, tears falling against your will. The breakup had taken everything out of you. You couldn’t bear to think of what would happen if you lost him once again. “We tried to make it work. We couldn’t. I can’t just up and leave and follow you around the world if we did this again.”

“I know you can’t, I don’t expect you to. But there’s a piece of me still with you, a piece I want back with all of you. Goddamn it, I miss you. It feels like I can’t breathe anymore. I was the happiest I’d ever been with you, and I want that back. I know there’s a lot we need to talk about and work through, and I’ve never been so sure that what I want is to talk and work it out with you. I’m missing half of me without you. I need you back.” Sam sounded the sincerest and most broken you’d ever heard him. He may wear his heart on his sleeve, but he was good at hiding how deeply things hurt him. For him to verbalize how much he needed to fix things, you knew this wasn’t spur of the moment, that this wasn’t a Casamigos-fueled decision. You knew, deep down, that Sam knew as well as you did that you both deserved a second chance.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I might love you more now than I did while we were actually together,” Sam answered.

“So I guess we’re doing this,” you said, exhaling a shuddering breath. The idea of a fresh start with Sammy was as exciting as it was terrifying.

“We are.” Sam’s smile was audible. “I promise, the second I get the chance, I’m flying to you and we’re going to talk this out. We’re going to make this work. I want this to work. I want you, all of you, forever.” He felt his spark come back, a real smile tugging at his lips for the first time in months. A new life had been breathed into him, a life that ignited all of his passions all over again.

Sam didn’t know it, but Josh, Jake, and Danny had all crowded around his hotel room door. Instead of sharing worried glances, they shared relieved smiles. Their Sam was back. Your Sam was back.

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka imagine #sam gvf #gvf imagine #My writing

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kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care.

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up.

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time.

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that.

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms.

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone.

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile.

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

Distantly, he remembers flashes.

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted.

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.”

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing.

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows.

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it?

It has to be.

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality.

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him.

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing.

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up.

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks.

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field.

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop.

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything.

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing.

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner.

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach.

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years.

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise.

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.”

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.”

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off.

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you.

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head.

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

The Weirdest Sitcom - Jack Kline Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: The Weirdest Sitcom

Pairing: Jack Kline X Reader

Requested: by @fitzs-trained-monkey

Word Count: 2,085 words

Warning(s): mention of blood and violence

Summary: Jack had hurt too many people. They felt like they were a danger to everyone around them. This led to them running away from the bunker and stumbling upon (Y/n). (Y/n) accepted them and was actually pretty happy to have someone else around... even if it was only for a little while.

Author's Note: I kinda love the vibe this gives off.

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Imagine this.

I was walking down an alley, my bag was closed and secured over my shoulder. I had made friends with the owner of a local restaurant. She would give me food, though her wife wasn't comfortable with me hanging around. I was happy.

The scraps and extras kept my normal hunger at bay for a little while longer.

I was a vampire.

I was disowned by my nest when I refused to hunt people. Since then, I was homeless. I was now 18 and trying my best. I kept myself covered at all times and made sure to keep an eye out for any and all hunters.

Anyway, back to the real story.

I had food and water and a few books from the library tucked in my bag as I made my way through the alley to the abandoned trainyard that I had begun to call home. After putting all of my things in their rightful and safe spots in my train car, I climbed up to the top with a book.

I was happily reading, ignoring the world and all of the problems I faced when I heard something. It was like someone was trying to open a door.

I sat up, closing my book. As soon as I moved, I was met with the sweetest smell I had ever experienced. It almost overwhelmed me.

I had to take a moment to adjust before I climbed down the ladder. I plopped onto the ground to see some person trying to get into my train car. It was then that I noticed how dark it was outside.

"Hey," I yelled. "What the hell are you doing?!"

The person stepped back, clearly scared, and held their hands up. They didn't look like they had been living on the street for a long time. They didn't know better. They had pale, smooth skin with blonde hair and blue eyes. Thier clothes were clean.

"Who are you," I asked.

"I'm Jack," they replied. "I'm sorry. I just need a place to stay."

"Well, this train car is mine," I crossed my arms.

Jack looked down. I bit the inside of my cheek. They looked like a puppy that had been kicked out in the cold. They went to walk away.

"Wait," I called. "Fine, you can stay. But... stay on your side."

They smiled at me before nodding. I yanked the door open and climbed in, holding out a hand to help them in. They looked around like they were impressed by the space.

"So... why are you on the street, Jack," I asked, walking over to the corner I had claimed. They walked to the adjacent corner and sat down.

"I hurt some people," they explained. "It was an accident but I wanted to protect my family. So I left until I can control... myself."

"Really," I asked. They nodded. I was still trying my best to ignore the sweet smell that they were basically radiating. "What are you?"

"What?"

"Sorry, you can call it instincts but... I can tell you're not human, not completely," I explained.

"My mom was," they replied. "My dad... my dad is an angel."

"Nephilim," I asked. They nodded. "Damn. That's awesome."

"Awesome?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I've read about them. Damn near unlimited power, wings, all the jazz. It's really cool."

"Oh," they looked down for a moment with a small grin on their face.

Yeah, it's the weirdest sitcom concept you've ever heard, isn't it? The Nephilim and the Vampire. We could make good money off of the idea.

"What were their names," I asked. They looked back at me. "Your parents?"

"My mom's name was Kelly," they said. "My dad was... Lucifer, but I'm trying really hard to not be like him! I don't even think of him as 'dad'. My dad is Castiel, another angel."

"You have quite the family tree," I noted. They nodded. "So, you said 'was', is your mom... dead?"

"She died giving birth to me," they looked down.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I sat up straighter. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

They just shook their head. I sat silently for a minute.

"I could help you," I said. "I mean, control your powers. I know a lot about Nephilim and it may help to have someone else there."

Jack smiled at me before nodding.

"Okay, umm, tomorrow," I said before going to lay down. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight," they laid flat on their back.

--Time Skip--

We spent the next few days doing a strange version of training.

I had grabbed trash can lids and told Jack to stand a ways away.

"Alright," I called. "I'm gonna throw these up and you're going to use your power to throw them against the train car back there."

They held a thumbs up.

I threw the trash can lid in the air, stepping back slightly. Jack held their hand out and the lid went flying. We did that three more times with no trouble.

"That was amazing," I cheered. Jack smiled, proud of themself.

I went to walk over and pick them up. Then, one of them came flying off the ground. I yelled and ducked just as it flew past me and into Jack's hands. I stared at them as they held it.

"Holy crap," I muttered, starting to hope I hadn't gotten in over my head.

We also tried to work on the potential of teleporting. I would hide while Jack had their eyes closed and they had to teleport to me.

We'd test how long they could hold something still without dropping it.

Honestly, the training became a lot of fun.

Outside of training, Jack had stopped staying in their corner of the train car. At night, we would both sit together and eat. Then, we would get as comfortable as possible before I would read some of that night's book to them until we were both tired.

It was about two weeks into this pattern when Jack first told me about Mary. They wanted to help the people that had been protecting them and they wanted to see if she was alive in an alternate reality. Apparently, the people blamed them for their mom being taken away.

So, we spent as long as possible reading and researching.

Eventually, we found out that dreamwalkers would be the only way to achieve what Jack wanted.

"Thank you," Jack said quietly one night as we were getting ready to fall asleep. "For helping me so much. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you."

"You're welcome, Jack," I mumbled.

As awkwardly as you'd expect it to be, Jack leaned over and kissed me softly. I sat in shock for a moment, eyes wide open as they pulled away.

"Was that too much," they asked.

"No," I shook my head. "It just shocked me."

"Oh," they replied.

"It was really nice."

--Time Skip--

Jack was out visiting a dreamwalker and I finally indulged my hunger. I had been late at night just so Jack didn't see it.

I never fed on humans. Like some homeless Cullen sibling, I would snag small animals just to make sure I didn't starve.

I was feeding on a squirrel I had snagged when I saw Jack pop back in from the corner of my eye. I knew I didn't have time to hide what I had been doing. I slowly looked up at them.

"What are you doing," they asked, eyebrows furrowed. But they didn't seem disgusted.

"I... god... I'm a vampire," I explained. "I didn't want to feed on people so my nest sent me away. That's why I live here. I don't feed on people. I snag small animals to hold me over."

"Oh," Jack nodded. I stood up and threw the squirrel's corpse out of the train car and toward the forest. I walked to the bucket the I filled with water. We didn't drink out of it, it's just to clean my hands and mouth. "I can cure you."

"What," I asked.

"I have all of this power," they explained. "I'm sure if I can open gates to other worlds, I can cure you."

I thought about the idea. If I did this and it failed, I would die or just go on as I was. If I did this and it worked, I could have a normal life. I could move forward. I nodded.

We walked over to the sleeping corner and I laid on my back. Jack knelt next to me. They were about to touch my temple when I grabbed their hand.

"No matter what happens, thank you," I said. "Thank you."

They smiled and nodded. I let go of their hand.

They touched my temple.

I immediately felt pain. It was a fire flowing through my veins. As it got more and more intense, I reached out to Jack, grabbing their free hand for comfort.

Then, after some lightning struck outside, it was over. I was breathing deeply. I looked at Jack, who was still grinning at me.

Their usual sweet smell faded. I wasn't smelling their blood anymore. I started crying, knowing that it had worked.

"What's wrong," Jack asked. I sat up and hugged them tightly.

"I'm just happy," I whispered into their ear. "So, so happy."

Jack hugged me back.

--Next Day--

The next day, Jack and I woke up to two people yelling. We were still holding hands, curled up under our blankets. I jumped up, walking toward the door. Jack followed.

They seemed happy.

"Sam, Dean," Jack opened the door with no hesitation but I jumped away. Sam and Dean... as in Winchester?

The three of them were talking. They knew the brothers. They hugged Jack. I slowly looked out from around the corner.

"You brought the Winchesters here," I asked. Jack looked at me, clearly confused. "Vampires tell stories when two hunters manage to stop the apocalypse more than once."

"Vampire," the one with short hair said.

"Not anymore," Jack explained. "I cured (Y/n)."

"Cured," the other Winchester asked.

Jack nodded. They held a hand out to me. They helped me down and into the sunshine. It didn't hurt. I was normal.

"(Y/n) is the reason I knew about dreamwalkers and I can control my powers so much better," Jack continued, still holding my hand. "Their nest disowned them when they didn't want to feed on people. I wanted to take them to the bunker."

"Where are you living," the long-haired one asked.

I pointed at the train car.

The brothers looked at each other, a silent argument and agreement.

"Grab whatever personal items and clothes you have," the man continued. "Umm... I'm Sam, that one's Dean."

I nodded. I grabbed my bag and walked back to them.

"Are you guys really going to let me stay?"

"Jack trusts you," Dean shrugged. "You seem genuinely cured."

"And you'll be the first to kill me if I step out of line?"

"Possibly."

I nodded. I followed them to their car quietly. Jack held on tightly to my hand.

"Can we stop somewhere," I asked. "I have a friend that offered me some old clothes. It could save a lot of time."

The brothers nodded. Jack and I sat in the back seat, holding hands across the seat. Sam had gotten out of the car to get the bags from the kind woman I had come to know. She had talked to me through a rolled-down window, wishing me well. After that, I rolled up the window and waited.

"So, you two are...," Dean looked at us.

"Together," Jack confirmed with no hesitation. "Trust me, we've even kissed."

"Just checking," Dean gave us a thumbs up, turning back to the front.

--Time Skip--

I took in a deep breath as I sat in my new room. I had showered and dressed in fresh clothes. I had brushed my teeth, which I had never given up because of the very kind woman that took care of me as much as she could.

I was relaxing on the new sheets, ready to go to bed when the door crept open. Jack was standing there. They were clean and happy too.

"I didn't realize that I had gotten used to laying next to you," they mumbled. I scooted over, waving them over.

Jack shut the door and joined me on the bed. I wrapped my arms around them and curled into them. They mimicked me.

Home. We were home.

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Not My Bias”: Park Jimin Imagine: Plus Size Reader

Park Jimin Imagine Summary: Jimin is upset because he is not the chosen bias of his girlfriend but instead it's actually Namjoon. A/N: Also, this is just an imagine, a oneshot if you will. However, if you want to see more of the story, just let me know. Extra: Plus Size. Also, woman is older than the man by a few years. Pre-established relationship, Jimin is dating an Army, ft Platonic moments with Yoongi. Warning: Fluff, Angst, mentions of suicide and issues with mental health, arguing, jealously... teeeeennnnnnsssssiiiooonn. Anyway, yeah. ----

Flared nostrils and a deep breath.

'He's just having a day. Let it go. He's just in a mood.'

The thought swirled around in that head like smoke.

"Babe, you were all over him. I don't know how you can think that's ok? If I had done that to someone you would've flipped out!" Jimin's voice sounded.

Regardless of the fact that Jimin was continuously all over people because he was very affectionate and naturally flirty.

Also, regardless of the fact that he literally had millions of people ready to volunteer like Katniss for the Hunger Games at the drop of a hat.

Regardless of the fact that it was very much clear as to how much he was loved and adored by his partner.

Still.

'Don't snap. Don't lash out. Just let it go.'

The thought swirled less like smoke and more like the unstable circle of terror that was the beginnings of a hurricane.

"I mean, fuck, you might as well just be with him. You were practically eye fucking him right in front of me."

Stone cold.

Every thought brewing in that mind was screaming to let it go, to talk to him calmly, to just fix it.

But that's not what happened.

Because even though Jimin was clearly feeling insecure and it had turned into jealously... you had feelings too.

You slowly turned to look at him.

Jimin's gaze was hard as he looked back.

He had that about him where one second he could be cute and adorable and the next he could be very intimidating.

However, his duality was no match for yours in that moment.

"Jimin, you've got about three seconds to apologize." you said evenly.

"Apologize?" He scoffed. "For what? Apologize for calling the bullshit when I see my girlfriend trying to fuck one of my best friends right in front of me?"

That was it.

You had a long fuse on a big bomb and right now... you weren't just a stick of dynamite.

You were a nuclear bomb.

You ran your tongue over your teeth trying in vain to calm down.

"First of all, fuck you." you snapped and his brows lifted on his forehead. "Yeah I said it. Don't you ever insinuate that I am anything less to faithful to you. God dammit, Jimin. I didn't want to have a fucking fight with you but since you seem so hell bent on it, let's go. It's time for war, mother fucker."

His gaze intensified at your response, "Don't you talk to me like -"

"Me?!" you snapped. "You want to talk about me? You're the one who stood right there, basically called me a whore and accused me of fucking your friend! Who by the way, you owe a god damn apology to! He didn't do anything to you and you've been a dick the whole day!"

It was the wrong thing to say and you knew it.

Bringing up Namjoon during a fight, especially considering the context was the worse thing you could've done.

It further ignited his anger and his jealously all but consumed him.

But you didn't care.

He may have started the fire but you brought the gasoline.

"That's just great, Y/N. Wonderful. Exactly the way to convince your boyfriend that you're not fucking someone else. Defending them in the middle of an argument."

Your screaming had clearly drawn attention and the door opened to reveal Jin's concerned face.

He said something but the two of you were too far gone in trying to outscream each other to hear him.

"That you started!" you snapped at Jimin.

"I was trying to talk to you!"

"You were accusing me!"

"Because it was obvious!"

You were shaking when Yoongi's head popped in beside Jin's but you paid them no mind even when Hobi appeared in the doorway.

"Guys, come on." Hobi said trying to calm you both down. "Don't do this."

"Come on. Let's go get some food and chill out." Jin offered, knowing very well how Jimin's temper could be and also how he could say some horrible things when he really didn't mean them.

He had a sinking feeling that they'd already been said though and there wasn't much that could be done.

"What was so obvious to you, Jimin? Hm? I am a fan. You know this? I was an Army before I ever met you. This was abundantly clear to you from the beginning. Did you really think that there would never be moments when I wouldn't be starstruck occasionally?" you seethed. "Because I'm sorry I'm not perfect Park fucking Jimin! I'm human!"

His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not what this is about." he said.

"Yeah, the fuck, it is." you snapped. "Listen, I'm about to make myself abundantly clear about something. You don't fucking know me as well as you seem to think you do."

"Clearly." he responded and you had to fight the urge not to strangle him.

Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at Jimin and his fucking mouth.

The rest of the members had joined the chaos at this point and you... you just no longer cared.

You were ready to go to war.

Fuck it all.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, staring at the carpet before lifting your eyes up to Jimin's again.

"You seem to think that you have me completely figured out and you know everything about me. But you don't know shit, Jimin. Just because we've been dating for three months does not mean that you suddenly know every thought in my head. But you're about to find some shit out about me right now."

"You're right. I don't know wh-"

"Shut the fuck up." you said coldly. "You want to know so god damn badly why Namjoon is my bias? Fine, I'll tell you and you can either deal with it or you can continue to be a spoiled, selfish little brat. I don't really care anymore."

He would've fought you for calling him that but internally something stopped him.

"I was never into this type of music. It wasn't my thing. I listened to metal and classic rock. That was what I liked. So BTS was never really in my statosphere. But a few years ago, I was at my lowest. My husband had cheated on me leading me to file for an immediate divorce. I had just lost our baby and I was wrecked. I didn't want to do it anymore. So let me paint you a picture here, Jimin. I was standing in my childhood bedroom because I couldn't bare to be in that house where he fucked his secretary. I'm standing there in front of my little vanity from when I was a kid and I had my grandpa's pistol loaded, the barrel in my mouth. My finger was on the trigger and I started to press down."

Jimin, all with everyone else, had gone completely pale.

"And then suddenly my cousin's stereo starts thudding from the other side of the wall. And it's "Voice" from Joon's first mixtape and I stopped. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood what I was going through. I put the gun down and I saw there on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall listening to that song. I cried until I couldn't breathe because no one had ever put my feelings into words like that before. That song. Those lyrics. They saved me. I put the gun away as if it had burned me, I cried because I had been so close to ending it all over someone else who wasn't worth it. I went home that night, researched the lyrics and figured out who wrote them and then I began listening to anything and everything that Namjoon had a hand in creating. Because it was those words that kicked me back off the ledge."

Jimin was completely still at this point.

No movement.

No sound.

No nothing.

You were staring straight into his soul in that moment.

"So you'll have to excuse me if ever so often I get a little starstruck with the person who literally wrote the wrong that kept me from killing myself." you said lowly.

You finally looked around to see the rest of the members there, skin heating with embarassment that they'd just watched you and Jimin verbally rip each other's throats out and then hear your suicide attempt story.

You looked at Jimin once more before you shook your head and pushed your way through the members.

Several tried to comfort you but you didn't want to hear it.

You just wanted out.

And that was exactly what you did, shoving through the door and disappearing from sight.

Immediately, upon the slam of the door, Jimin erupted into tears, crashing to the ground.

He hadn't known any of that.

Taehyung rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms and trying to calm him down enough to function.

Yoongi pursed his lips before going after you.

He knew what it was like to pick at old scars like that and how fresh those old wounds could still be.

He caught up to you rather easily, insisting that you let him take you out to eat.

You fought him on it but he did something that he rarely ever did.

He pulled out his super power on you and used his cuteness.

And you couldn't resist the lil meow meow so you caved... just like he knew you would.

You didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

Yoongi didn't push you and instead the two of just enjoyed a meal together.

You fought him over the check but he already slipped the waitress his card before you could even get a word in edgewise.

Then he took you to a local dog park, watching puppies chase their own tails because he knew it was impossible to watch dogs smack into each other and not smile.

He didn't force you to talk or to address what had just happened.

But what he did do was stay with you, offer you kindness, made sure you ate and did something that made you smile.

He reached out to place his hand on yours and gave it a squeeze.

"I won't pretend that I know what you've been through. I'm not that arrogant and I'm not you. But I do understand what it's like to get to a point where you don't want to do it anymore." he said as the two of you focused on a pomeranian with an attitude problem who reminded you both of Yeontan.

"You can talk to me. Anytime." he said. "I know I don't usually say alot but I'll listen. I promise."

"Thanks, Yoongi. I'm fine. I promise. I'm alot better now. I'm not the person I used to be. Things are different. Jimin just really hit a nerve with what he was saying and I snapped." you explained.

He nodded with a sigh.

"Jimin is someone who is full of emotion. He's passionate. That sometimes means that he loses his temper when he's scared. He loves you and he's more insecure about losing you than he lets on. He didn't express that in the right way at all. I won't defend him on that. I'm just saying, don't give up just because you two had a fight. A hell of one, mind you. Do you realize that you're terrifying when you're angry?"

You finally broke into a laugh at his words.

"I thought Jimin was the scary one." you commented, knowing very well that every single one of them collectively thought Jimin was terrifying when he was really angry.

"Shit, he's a punk compared to you." Yoongi chuckled. "You looked like an absolute demon. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed sweet Y/N looked like she was forged in the fires of hell."

You nearly snorted at his response before finally looking over at him.

"Thanks, Yoongi. Really. You made me feel a lot better." you admitted. "I'm glad you came after me. This was much better than how I likely would've handled it."

"How would you have handled it?" he questioned.

"Probably something self sabotaging and toxic as hell." you shrugged. "Or maybe I just would've cried when I cooled off. Or took off. I've been known to jump in the car and just keep driving when I'm angry. It's literally me running from my problems but for the lazy because fuck that. I'm not running from anybody. Zombies can just eat this ass."

He shook with laughter.

It was one of the reasons he liked you a lot and he thought you were perfect for Jimin.

You were naturally funny and had a great wit about you... and you were tough.

You needed to be tough if you were going to date someone who worked in the business they did.

You don't fall in love with the idol, you fall for the person.... but that person still has a job and to be their partner is really hard.

It wasn't for the weak of heart.

The two of you sat there for a while.

You'd turned your phone off almost instantly as soon as you cleared the building, not even entertaining the thought of dealing with any questions.

You assumed that Yoongi had likely told someone he was with you since he'd been with you for hours and no one was calling him.

You took in his profile as he watched a squirrel run up a tree.

You could practically see him thinking.

"Just spit it out." you sighed and his lips quirked just a little before looking at you.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" he questioned.

"Because, unfortunately, we are too much alike in some ways." you said.

He chuckled, "All I'm going to say is, cut Jimin some slack. He's crazy about you. Anyone can see that. And also, give him a chance to digest everything you just told him today. That was a lot. You know that better than anyone."

"I didn't mean to tell him like that." you shrugged. "I didn't mean to tell him that at all."

"Why not?" Yoongi asked, very seriously. "You love Jimin right?"

"Yeah, of course." you said.

"And you trust him?" he said.

"Yeaaahhh." you said.

"Then how come you haven't talked to him about that before?" he asked.

"Because we've only been together for three months, Yoongi and we haven't spent a ton of time with one another in those three months. You don't just blurt your past suicide attempts out to people like that." you all but snapped.

You were getting defensive and he knew it.

But Yoongi also knew that you were only being like that because he'd hit a nerve.

He knew because he was like that at times.

"You were friends before you got together." he pointed out. "I know you're an Army. I get it. But you and Jimin clicked at that fan event that day. Don't get me wrongs. He's a hopeless flirt but Jimin has never willingly forked over his phone number like that. He didn't even know your name and he was hooked."

You ground your teeth because you knew he was right.

"All I'm saying is, give him a chance. He's jealous of Joon. He can't help it. A part of him wants to be your bias because he's your boyfriend. I can get that." Yoongi shrugged.

"It's not like Joon is my bias is a romantic way, Yoongi." you sighed. "I literally just -"

"I know." Yoongi cut you off. "I know. I get it. Trust me. We are all painfully aware of that situation now."

You chewed on your lip, vulnerable at having your business out there like that.

"Hey." he said reaching for your hand. "I didn't meant that to come off the way it did. I'm glad we know. I wish you hadn't felt like you were so backed into the corner that you had to come out with it like that. But still, it's good to know that about you. I think it'll bring us closer as a group."

You just nodded.

He sighed, "Listen, I'm gonna tell you something that I think we'll help. Men are rather simple in a lot of ways. Some not so much but others- incredibly so."

You lifted a brow at him.

"Ok?"

"Explain that Joon's work inspires you and it helped you through a lot." he said.

"I literally just-"

"No, stop and listen to me." he cut you off. "Explain that you admire Namjoon and his work. You love his writing. This is also true for me or Hobi right? You and I have talked for hours about some of my stuff and I know you and Hobi sat there and dissected Hope World for like three days. You admire the work, the lyrics, the content, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know that it's a little different with Joon because his song was the first one you'd heard and it was a rather traumatic time. So there's somewhat of an emotional attachment there. And honestly, I think that's what Jimin is so scared of." he said.

"Scared of what? It's music and yeah, I love the way Joon writes and yeah it was a crazy time but I'm in love with Jimin." you argued.

"Jimin is scared that Namjoon could take you away from him." Yoongi said directly.

"What?" you gasped. "But I love Jimin."

"I know that." Yoongi said. "Everyone knows that. But he also knows how much you obsess over anything Joon writes."

"It's good music." you said.

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, it is. But Jimin has likely got it in his head that you could easily just run off with Joon and have this philosophical conversations about poetry and lyrics. I'd be willing to be money on it that he's insecure because you didn't start out loving BTS, you started out loving RM. And that scares him."

"It was never about loving RM or BTS." you countered. "I needed those lyrics. I liked RM as a musician. I liked BTS as a group. But I fell in love with Jimin. And I'll tell you another god damn thing, I never fucking meant to either! I didn't want to love anyone after that shit happened!"

Your temper was flaring, which truthfully was dangerous, as Yoongi could match you in it.

But he also realized you were just very sensitive right now and not actually angry so he just watched you calmly.

"I didn't want to fall in love with anyone. Ever again, Yoongi. I was terrified. I'm still terrified. But I met Jimin and he fucking smiled at me and I crumbled. It wasn't really about me falling in love with him. I jumped head first into the darkness because even though it scared me shitless, I didn't care. He's worth it. No matter what."

You didn't realize that you'd gotten to your feet until Yoongi was smiling at you and he gently nodded over your shoulder.

You turned around and there he was.

Of course.

Jimin.

With his expressive dark eyes and his dreamy lips.

As cliche as it is, it was almost as if time stopped.

There was nothing else but Jimin and you.

It became a race to get to one another and as soon as you got within arms reach of each other, your kisses were feverent.

"I'm sorry's" and "No I'm sorry" and "You didn't do anything wrong" "I was just jealous" "No, no, no"

They all clanged together in a jumbled mess of mutterings slurred with kisses.

"Joon is not my bias, Jimin." you breathed.

"Baby, it's fine. It's not a big deal. I just got a little -"

"No, listen." you breathed. "He's not. I admire him. I admire his work. But he's not my bias. I don't have a bias."

Jimin pulled back to look at you, "What?"

"I don't have a bias." you clarified. "I don't pick favorites."

"Uh..." he said.

"I don't have a bias." you repeated. "But I do have something else. Something super special."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"A keeper." you said.

"A keeper?" he asked.

"Yep, the keeper of my heart. Only one person can be that and that's you."

It was cheesy.

Ridiculously so.

But Jimin melted for you and he squeezed your soft body to his so tightly that you could barely breathe.

And all the while, Min Yoongi sat on that park bench, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Smug grin ever permanent on his impish features.

"Lil Meow Meow strikes again..." he whispered to himself.

------

—-

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broken-stardust · 3 years

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Maybe Hotch Was Right

Summary: Spencer and Reader don't get along, but things change when Spencer finds him during a personal moment.

Category: Angst/Fluff SpencerxMale!Reader

Content Warnings: homophobia, cursing, kissing, crying

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's August Enemies to Lovers challenge, and I didn't procrastinate till the end of the month! Look at me go!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy my gay writing.

Y/N was the most insufferable person I knew. He was full of himself, he thought he knew better than anybody else, and he always had to be right. It infuriated me. It wasn't that he wasn't smart; he was. Incredibly smart, in fact. It was just that he had to make sure everyone knew it, and he'd rub it into people's faces all the time.

It didn't help that he was cute, too. If he'd been ugly, it would have made it so much easier to hate him. But he had these eyes that just drew me in. And that smile! Oh my god, that smile. If only he wasn't such an asshole.

He was nice enough, I supposed, just an arrogant prick. But everybody else liked him, and that just made my hatred for him that much worse. Why couldn't anyone see what he was doing? He was playing them all like a fiddle, but I wasn't falling for it. I knew that underneath that grin, he was just a self-consumed smartass.

He had been a thorn in my side throughout this entire case, too. Hotch kept pairing us up in hopes that we'd realize that our feud was uncalled for, but Y/N was just as stubborn as I was, if not more. The last straw had been when Hotch assigned us to the same hotel room.

"But Hotch," I whined, praying he'd have mercy on me and let me stay with Derek instead. "I won't be-"

He cut me off with a hand raised to my face.

"This isn't up for discussion, Reid," he warned. "You are sharing a room with Y/L/N, and if I need to, I won't let you out until you make up over whatever this stupid argument is about."

I rolled my eyes. Was he really treating me like a child right now? Still, I knew arguing would get me nowhere.

"Yes, Sir," I said in defeat before heading in the direction of my room.

Y/N was already in there, and I dreaded having to enter. With all the courage I could muster up, I opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark except for the faint light coming in through the window, and I heard some sort of noise. A sniffle maybe? Was he... crying?

As the door closed behind me, I heard him scramble to hide whatever it was that he was doing. I mentally cursed myself for intruding on such a personal moment, even if I did hate the guy's guts.

"Are you, um, are you okay?" I finally asked after ages of silence.

I heard another sniffle come from his direction.

"Why would you care?" Y/N spat.

I approached slowly.

"Well, you're crying and-"

"Oh so now that I'm crying you suddenly care about me?" I stepped back again. "You don't have to pretend to give a shit just because I'm upset. You hate me, and I hate you. Let's just keep it that way."

I took a deep breath and resolved to sit on my bed, facing away from him. If he was going to be like that, I didn't want to deal with him. I closed my eyes and started going over the Fibonacci Sequence in my head to pass time.

"My parents found out that I'm gay," I heard his sudden, soft voice say through a sniffle.

My heart softened just a little bit at the words. I knew how hard it was to come out, how painful it was to get rejected. Even more so when you were forced out of the closet instead of coming out of your own free will.

"It didn't go well, then," I whispered. It was more to myself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

"What gave you that idea, Einstein?" he said bitterly. I could hear the hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry. What did they say?"

"Why should I tell you?"

I sighed and got up off of my bed to go over to his and sit next to him. With the little bit of light that was in the room, I could faintly see Y/N's face. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were stained from tears. I wondered how long he'd been crying.

"I'm trying to help," I told him. "Talk to me."

I could see him contemplate opening up to me. Eventually, he wiped his eyes with shaky hands and looked down while picking at his nails.

"They said that I'm disgusting and that I'm going to Hell," Y/N admitted. My heart broke at the words.

"How'd they find out?" I asked gently.

"I was texting with my sister about a guy I like and she accidentally texted my parents instead of me. They figured it out from there."

A single tear rolled down his cheek. I fought the urge to wipe it from his face.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured. "How can I help you feel better?"

Y/N shrugged. He looked so defeated, I felt bad about the way I'd treated him throughout the case.

"What about this guy?" I asked. "Maybe you want to tell me about him?"

"I'd rather not," Y/N said as he cleared his throat. I noticed him visibly stiffen. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I know I act like a dick." I kept my mouth shut. "I have to be the smartest person in the room, and I have to do everything right."

I let out a short laugh as he admitted what we'd both known all along. This must have been his way of apologizing, so I let him continue.

"But that's not really me," Y/N admitted quietly. "I'm so insecure. I feel like I need to prove myself to everyone because, well, my whole life I've been fed the narrative that I should be ashamed of who I am. I guess I try to overcompensate."

I hesitantly reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. This man that I'd hated for so long was baring his soul to me, and I felt like I didn't deserve it.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated for the umpteenth time. "I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have been so rude to you." Then, I decided to take a chance. "So about that guy..."

Y/N shifted away from me uncomfortably.

"I kind of like a guy too," I whispered, slightly hoping he wouldn't hear me. "If that makes you feel any better."

In the pale moonlight, I could see his eyes grow wider. He turned to me with a shocked expression, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"But-" he cut himself off before he could say anything stupid. I shot him a sheepish grin. A wave of understanding washed over him, and he smiled slightly. "Can I..."

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, I leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips. I started to pull away, but his hands caught my face and pulled me back in. I sighed into the kiss, and Y/N smiled. He tasted like mint and strawberries. I didn't want the moment to end.

But of course, nothing lasts forever. Once we separated, Y/N began to cry again. This time, it was a strong, shaking cry that overtook his whole body. Panic set in as I wondered if I shouldn't have done that. I pulled Y/N close and rocked him back and forth with me while playing with his hair and whispering words of affirmation to him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, afraid of what the answer might be. I desperately didn't want him to think our kiss was a mistake.

"We just... we've been fighting this whole time," he said between sobs. "We both knew. Don't lie, I know you knew it too. And yet, we spent this whole time fighting."

"It's okay," I assured him. "We can't take back the past, but we can change the future."

I planted another soft kiss on his cheek and guided him to lay down in his bed. Once he was situated under the covers, I crawled into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.

"I love you," he choked out into my chest.

"I love you, too," I told him and pulled him even closer. "We'll get you through this. I promise."

Y/N nodded and cried until he was all tired out. We held each other tightly as we both drifted off to sleep, unsure of what may lay ahead. As I shut my eyes, I thought to myself, maybe Hotch was right.

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #spencer #wattpad #content warning #fanfic #fluff #oneshot #blurb #spencer reid fluff #fluffy oneshot #mlm fluff #mlm #angst #mlm angst #enemies to lovers

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years

Text

Collision

Pairing: Matt Casey x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N, who is Matt Casey’s younger sister and also a member of Truck 81, is hurt badly when the firetruck gets into an accident

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and severe injuries, plus some light swearing

Word Count: 1,537 Words

Note: This is taken from Chicago Fire S3 Ep3, Just Drive the Truck

“Hey boys,” I say cheerfully as I walked into the break room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Looking at a food truck for Molly’s II. Look at this baby. She’s a beauty,” Joe exclaimed and showed me a picture of the food truck.

“Wow. That looks pretty nice. How much is it?” I ask.

“Only $12,000,” Joe answered.

“No,” Otis interjected. “That 12K at the top is how many miles the truck has. The price is right here. $79,000.”

“Oof. Better luck next time.” Mouch responded and Joe’s shoulder. Just then, the alarm sounded throughout the firehouse.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Structure fire, 16th and Wabash,” the dispatcher spoke through the intercom.

“Duty calls,” I mumble and turn back around to head to the apparatus floor. I put on my gear pretty quickly and climbed into Truck 81. My seat was against the back wall of the truck, so when I was looking forward, I could see out the windshield. Out of the 3 seats in my row, I was the one furthest on the inside of the truck, mainly because I was the smallest out of Otis, Mouch and I. On the way to the fire, I kept my gaze trained ahead. I liked watching our surroundings pass us by. Suddenly, the truck jerked, and we began tipping over. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a wave of pain rolling through my entire body, and the sound of sirens.

Matt’s POV

“How’s every looking?” I ask my crew.

“Mouch has a pretty big cut on top of his eye. And Lieutenant, Y/N, she’s unconscious. It looks like she’s bleeding pretty bad,” Otis replied. I turned around to get a look at my younger sister, and when I saw her, my face paled. A decent sized pool of blood was puddling around his side, and she had a large cut on her forehead. As for the side of her body that was pressing against the floor, I couldn’t tell if she was hurt, but because of how much she was bleeding, I had to assume it wasn’t good.

“Hey!” Kelly shouted and scaled up the side of the truck. “Any injuries?”

“Mouch is bleeding,” I answer. “And Y/N-” I choked up on my words. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“It’s going to be okay. Nobody touch Y/N. If she’s got a neck injury, I don’t want you guys jostling her. Lets get you guys out of here,” Kelly said. I groaned and climbed out through my shattered window, wincing as I moved my joints.

“Severide, you have to get Y/N out of there,” I plead. “Promise me you will.”

“Casey, protocall say’s we’ve got to save those likely to survive first,” Kelly explained.

“Are you serious? You’re always the one breaking the rules, and now when my sister is is danger, you want to follow them? Screw you!” I shout and climb over to the doorway leading down into the back of the truck.

“Casey, stop. Go and help Molina. I’ve got this. Mills! Capp! Get over here!” Kelly called out. Peter and Capp ran over to the truck, and Kelly looked down at them. “Y/N’s pinned in here pretty bad. I need you to get a neck collar and a board ready. We’re going to do a lift,” Kelly told them. Capp and Peter ran off to grab the supplies just as Chief Boden arrived.

“Take care of her, all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Of course,” Kelly said as I climbed down from the truck to meet Boden.

“Is everyone okay?” Boden asked.

"Mouch’s eye is messed up. Dawson's taking him to Chicago Med. And Y/N is stuck at the bottom of our truck. She’s bleeding pretty bad, Chief, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get her out,” I respond.

Boden cursed. “Cruz, what happened?”

“I don't know, Chief. They came out of nowhere,” Joe replied as Chief Tiberg appeared.

“Who had the light?” Chief Tiberg asked.

“We did,” Joe spoke confidently. "And if it wasn't green, then it was yellow. There's no way it was red.”

“You don't know what color it was?” Tiberg questioned.

“Cruz, did you see the light?” Boden asked.

“I must have. I know I did,” Joe confessed.

“Lieutenant, did you see the light? Tell me you saw the light,” Tiberg demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it,” I answer.

“Someone else had to have seen the light,” Tiberg insisted.

“Y/N did,” I admit.

“All right. Then lets speak to her,” Tiberg ordered.

“You can’t. She’s stuck in the truck still and uncons-” I cut myself off and took another deep breath, attempting to keep tears from making their way to the surface. Just then, I heard commotion coming from behind me, and when I turned around, I saw that Squad 3 had managed to get Y/N out of the truck. They were now loading her on a stretcher. “Y/N!” I shout and run to the gurney’s side, grabbing her hand in mine. I was now able to see Y/N’s injuries to their full extent, and it didn’t look good. Along with the cut on her head which I had already seen, there was a huge chunk of metal sticking out of her side. It looked like it came from the inside of the truck. Her arm was also broken, and I knew that because one of the bones in her lower arm was protruding from her skin. Y/N’s skin was also getting deathly pale, meaning she was losing too much blood. We had to get her to the hospital now. As soon as the paramedics loaded her gurney into the back of the ambulance, I climbed in with her, and then we sped off to Chicago Med.

Y/N’s POV

When I woke up, I felt groggy, and my whole left side hurt like hell. I opened my eyes, but closed them immediately after. It was very bright in here. Finally, I was able to open my eyes, and I squinted a bit to adjust my eyes to the lighting. That’s when I realized that I was in a hospital room, and I remembered the accident. I glanced down at myself, seeing my left arm in cast, and my left side was patched up. I could also feel some stitches on my forehead, meaning I was pretty banged up when I was brought in here. At that moment, Matt walked into the room, and he practically ran to my side.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” my brother asked me.

“Like shit,” I reply softly. “Everything hurts.” Matt laughed, but something about it seemed off. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“The time it took us to get you out of the truck and how much you were bleeding, well, you should be dead. You crashed once on the way here, and once in surgery. I thought I lost you,” Matt explained and clutched my hand. I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, which wasn’t too hard considering I had just woken up from surgery.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Is everyone else okay?” I question.

“Mouch had a bad cut on top of his eye, but he should be fine. Everyone else got away with a few cuts and bruises. And Cruz, well, he was suspended,” Matt told me.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“He admits to the light being green, but he doesn’t remember that well, and I didn’t see it. So, Tiberg suspended him,” Matt said.

“I think you should get Tiberg and Boden down here. I’ll tell them what happened. I saw everything,” I murmur.

“Y/N, you should be resting,” Matt insisted.

“I can rest later. Right now, I need to tell the truth,” I say.

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

“All right, Y/N. Tell us everything you saw,” Boden declared.

“Every time we get a call, I stare out the front windshield. It calms me down before we get to a fire, where sometimes, hell breaks loose. Anyways, yesterday, it was like any other call. I climbed into my seat, and I stared out the windshield like always. Just before the crash, when Joe was passing through the intersection, I saw the light. It was yellow, meaning it was our light. Molina was the run who ran through the light, not Joe Cruz,” I exclaim.

“We’ll definitely take that into consideration. Thank you,” Chief Tiberg informed me and left the room.

“Uh, the rest of the firehouse is in the waiting room. Do you want me to send them in?” Boden asked.

I smiled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.” Seconds later, the rest of the firehouse swarmed into my room.

“Man, you look like hell,” Kelly told me.

“Please. Even though I look like shit, I look better than you do on your good days,” I counter, causing the whole room to laugh. “But thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“It was no big deal. Now, who’s got some playing cards? I think it’s time someone beat Y/N at poker,” Kelly spoke.

“So you think that because I’m injured I’m going to lose? Fat chance. Pass me those cards. Kelly, you’re on,” I say.

_________________________

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