#but I think when I first heard that gunshot I did think she might be dead

[hephaestuscrew]

Sometimes I think there are certain parts of Wolf 359 that feel so familiar to me that I almost forget what they are like the first time round.

Like, I've just been thinking about how in the finale, after Minkowski gets shot, we don't hear any noise from her all through Cutter's gloating speech. We hear her gasp as the bullet hits and the show immediately cuts away to a different scene. Then when we rejoin the confrontation with Cutter, we don't hear Minkowski make any noise - not even a groan of pain or a laboured breath - for over a minute. And because it's an audio drama, this means that we don't have any direct indication of just how injured she is, of whether she's fully conscious, of whether she's even still alive. Lovelace's reactions can't tell us much while she's struggling against Cutter's control. And I wouldn't put it past Cutter to gloat to someone unconscious.

The first noise we do hear Minkowski make after being shot in the stomach - the first proof we have that she's still with us - is her gathering her strength and declaring "Renée Minkowski... and that is more than enough to kick your ass!", before punching Cutter. Which is always an incredibly powerful moment. But there's a particular power to it when it also serves as the reveal that Minkowski is still conscious and able to put up resistance. The moment when she asserts her ownership of her own identity feels almost like a moment of rising from the potentially-dead.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 27: Drown In It

Summary: Your heat lingers closer and closer, which leaves you with some conflicting feelings. Of course, you're not going to worry about them for much longer...

Paring: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,179 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, heat cycles, knotting, licking, biting, grinding, spanking (it's like once), kissing, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, language, emotions, and of course some fluff

A/N: And we're in it again, folks. It's happening (again). Though this time, there may be a bit of a surprise....

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(Yes I am using a Barry Sloane gif, trust me you will understand once you read the chapter)

You freeze, dread and panic beginning to fill you as you stand in the doorway to the rec room. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears, which are quickly growing hot. The urge to turn tail and run is strong, yet you can’t move, frozen in place by the sight in front of you. 

Simon is sitting, far too relaxed, in the chair where he normally sits. There’s a book in his hands, the crinkle of the page being turned is like a gunshot. You almost flinch in response, but hold still, wondering if you could back away before he notices your presence. You know it would be futile. He would have heard the crinkling of the bag of chips in your hand, the quiet rustle of it against your leg as soon as you turned the corner. 

“Interesting book, this.” He says, not bothering to look up as he sits reclined in the chair, about halfway through the book in his hands. 

Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him. You might never have given him, or the book, a second glance had you not been so clearly able to see the cover. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose, hoping you’d see what he’d found, what he’d discovered in your underwear drawer. It’s almost like he was hoping you’d walk in and see it. Or maybe he heard you coming and positioned himself so you’d see it. 

“‘The Powerful Omega.’” He says, closing the book to stare at the title. 

You shift on your feet nervously, ready to run if you need to, the bag of chips crinkling as you tighten your grip on it.. “I-I can explain-” 

“No need.” He says, cutting you off as he flips the book back open. “Is this how you got into our heads so easily?” 

Despite the accusing question, his tone isn’t malicious or even disparaging. You fiddle with your fingers, starting to feel like you’re being tested. If you say yes, what will he do? Get angry, accuse you of manipulation? But if you say no, he might think you’re lying, or perhaps he already knows the answer. 

“I-It helped a bit.” You say, shuffling forward a step. “At first. I almost forgot it was in there.” 

“‘Learn to Speak Their Language.’” He reads off the chapter title, your cheeks warming a bit. Of course he’d be there when you caught him. He stares at you over the top of the book, your gaze turned to the black TV screen. You can’t stare at him. Not right now. “Is this why you asked me to train you?” 

There’s no lying to him. You already know that. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “It was part of it. It gave me the idea, but then I realized if I’m gonna go around making stupid decisions like punching alphas, maybe I should know how to defend myself a little. I-I also thought it might help me get closer to you, at least get you to tolerate me a bit.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, I can say it worked. Was more you than anything, but I was a bit touched you asked me.” 

Your nervousness begins to calm as you realize he’s not angry you have the book. He’s also not angry you used it to get closer to them, to begin to integrate yourself into their pack. You set your chips down on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the couch. 

“How did you get it?” He asks. 

“I called Kate.” You give him a small smile. “When she sent me the first uh...care package. That was part of it.” 

He huffs, shaking his head. “Sneaky thing.” 

“I mean, one of you was bound to find it eventually.” You shrug. “Thought it might be Johnny with how often he sneaks into my underwear drawer. Though, I suppose he steals them from the laundry basket more often.” 

He hums, his gaze returning to the book. 

“Are you really reading it?” You ask. 

“‘Course.” He responds, getting comfortable in the chair again. 

A smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his focus zeroing in on the book again. You get an idea, rising from the couch to scan the shelves in the rec room. You find a manual on guns and ammunition, sitting back down with the heavy book in one hand, your chips in the other. Simon glances at you over the top of his book again as you make yourself comfortable on the other side of the couch, the title clearly visible as you turn to the first page. 

“Really?” He asks, exasperated. 

You shrug, glancing up at him. “It’s only fair.” 

“Little shit.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh as he goes back to reading your book. You sink down against the arm of the couch, using your book to hide your satisfied grin. 

“It never fails to amaze me.” 

“Huh?” You turn to face Johnny, a piece of popcorn falling out of your mouth from how much you've managed to stuff inside in one bite. 

“How much ye can eat during your pre-heat.” He says, grabbing the piece of popcorn that landed on the couch between you. 

You attempt to say something in response, but it comes out as a muffled mess around the popcorn you’re chewing. Johnny eats the piece that fell, reaching for the bowl. You move it out of his reach, pressing your foot against his side to keep him from getting too close. 

“Mine.” You say, pushing against his side, trying to get him to move away from you. 

He’s undeterred, using his size against you as he reaches for the bowl. A low growl rubles in your chest as you lean backwards, trying to keep it out of his reach. He freezes at the sound, staring down at you as you glare at him. 

“Did ye just growl at me?” He blinks at you, his lips turning up in a grin. 

You bare your teeth at him, another growl rumbling in your chest. You go for his arm, his reflexes just managing to yank it out of the way before your teeth sink into his skin. 

“Alright, alright.” He says, holding up his hands as he sinks back into his spot. “I got the message.” He grins as you sit up, holding the bowl protectively against your chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture as you glare at him. 

Your glare deepens as you shovel more popcorn into your mouth. He nearly giggles as he stares down at his phone, tapping on the screen a few times. You push yourself up, trying to get a look at his screen. “Who are you sending that to?” You ask between mouthfuls of popcorn. 

“The group chat.” He says, as if that’s not revealing news. 

“Group chat?” You ask around another mouthful. 

He nods. “Just the four of us fellas for blethering.” 

You blink at him, trying to translate what he means in your pre-heat addled brain. “Huh?” You say stupidly, a piece of popcorn dropping back into the bowl from the handful you had been holding up halfway to your mouth. 

“We like tae gossip among each other.” He says, giving you a grin. 

“Do you...talk about me?” You ask before shoving the handful of popcorn in your mouth. 

“All the time.” He answers, using his reflexes to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl. 

You’re too distracted to care, though if your mouth hadn’t been full you might have been tempted to bite him in retaliation. “‘Bout what?” You ask, the words almost unintelligible thanks to the popcorn you’re still chewing. 

“Oh, lots of things.” He grins. “How cute ye look all cozy in yer bed, how nicely yer arse looks in your skids, how we got ye to moan like that, tips on how tae make yer legs shake-” He does let out a giggle as you softly kick him in his side.

“Rude.” You pout as you curl up against the arm of the couch away from him with your bowl. “Could at least include me.” 

“Aw but we need our space,” He says, leaning closer to you. “Fer all our mingin' gab.” 

You give him a look, still trying to process his words as he presses a kiss to your head. He uses your distraction to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl, immediately jumping away from you as you react, letting out another growl. The popcorn bowl falls to the floor as you leap at him, ready to sink your teeth into his arm. 

“You're avoiding me.”

Simon glances up at you before looking back at his computer. “Not on purpose. You know the dangers if you go into heat too close.” 

He’s right. Though, you think you’d know if your heat was starting and you could get away before things got dangerous. Of course, with his sensitive instincts, he might notice before you do. Things would get ugly fast if John noticed too and tried to stop Simon. You’re not sure the betas could get to you in time to try and stop them, or at least get you away in hopes it clears their heads enough. 

You look around Simon’s office, the desk shoved further back to make room for the two cots set up in the corner closest to the door. Soon he and Johnny would be shut in here, avoiding the hallway around the corner while you and John fucked nearly non-stop for the next week. 

It feels different now that you’ve reached this new stage of your relationship with Simon. He’s not on the outside anymore, not separate from you. There’s a strong bond there now, one both of you have contributed to. He had made the boundary clear, even without having to say anything. He won’t take the risk of helping you. He’s not your alpha. 

However, wouldn’t complain if he were the one to get to you first, to lock you in his office and throw you on the cots and fuck you stupid for the next week. You shift on your feet at the thought of taking his knot, being pumped full of him and locked together. Would he remove his mask? Would you remember his face at the end of your heat-induced haze? 

He’d never forgive himself if it happened. He’d close himself off, avoid you like the plague. It would shred that fragile bond that has been set in place. 

You won’t entertain those thoughts anymore. Not when he’s so clearly drawn the line. 

You take half a step forward, pausing at the growl that rumbles in his chest. He’s setting another boundary, warning you of the dangers both of you pose towards each other in this delicate time. 

You continue forward despite the obvious warning, pushing against the instincts telling you to heed it and stay back. Yet, he doesn't stop you as you pass his desk, slinging a leg over him and planting yourself in his lap. It’s obvious, the tension in his body as you sit there, as if you might go into heat at any second. There will be signs once it is coming on, symptoms different from ones you feel outside of heats. 

You stare up into his eyes, his gaze sharp but not piercing as it once might have been. There’s a softness to it, something you might even call affection as he stares down at you. 

“Will you kiss me?” You ask softly, hesitantly. “One last time? So maybe I might remember you still like me when I wake up on the other side of this?” 

“I don’t think you could forget that.” He says, his hands dropping to grip your thighs. 

“Still...would be nice to have one.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “For good luck?” 

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, before he lifts a hand, pulling his mask up to his nose. He leans forward, meeting you halfway as he presses his lips to yours. 

The kiss is searing, conveying a deep passion and almost a longing feeling as his lips move against yours. Does he regret his decision not to even offer to help you? You’re not sure even you would have said yes to his offer. It’s only your second heat, the second time you’ve trusted your pack to care for you in such a vulnerable position. While you don’t distrust Simon and his ability to take care of you, a deep part of you longs for your alpha and the surety and safety he’s already proven. 

Simon’s hand slides up your back, brushing over your neck before cradling the back of your head. He holds you still as he licks the seam of your lips. You moan softly against his mouth, wishing you could pull him closer, wishing you could sink into him and avoid the inevitable heat lingering over your head. 

A sigh is pulled from your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, taking its time to explore before flicking against your own. His other arm wraps around your back, tugging you against him, chest to chest, legs spread around his hips. Had you not been trying to rest your body, or entirely disinterested in sex currently, you might have fucked him right in this chair, one last time before you’re lost to your heat and your alpha. 

He pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours as you both pant softly. The silence is loud, but it speaks volumes between you, sharing things you’re too scared to say out loud, things that push the boundaries of vulnerability between the two of you. There will be time afterward, plenty of time to gently push those boundaries and continue to worm your way into his most intimate thoughts. 

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. You can see the dots of freckles on his skin, the shades of brown in his eyes. His breath is warm against your lips as you sit there, almost like you’re trying to commit each other to memory, as if you’ll forget about him as soon as the door seals you and John inside your room. You will forget in the throes of your heat, but once the haze fades and you come back to yourself, you’ll remember him. He won’t be far, and neither will you. 

“See you on the other side?” You say, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw, his stubble prickling your skin. 

He leans forward, kissing you once more, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

“See you on the other side.” 

You’re on fire.

Sweat has soaked your skin and right through the loose shirt you had donned earlier. It’s dripping down your face, offering no relief from the lava pulsing under your skin. You’re surprised the liquid doesn’t start sizzling as it drips down your chest and arms. You’re panting softly, legs spread as you lay on the bed. There’s a steady pulsing between your legs, the ache and need beginning to steadily grow more intense as slick seeps out of you and onto the blankets below. 

You woke earlier with a crawling sensation under your skin, your pajamas quickly ditched in favor of the baggy shirt to avoid the overstimulation of any tight fabric. You knew last night as soon as the ravenous hunger began to abate that you were close. Mid-bite of some potatoes the hunger had faded and suddenly they looked almost repulsive. Simon and Johnny had moved into his office and you quarantined in your room with Kyle and John on standby. 

Sleep had evaded you for most of the night as you waited for it to start, expecting it to be in the middle of the night like last time. Your mind had faded in and out of sleep, expecting to wake any moment with the uncomfortable feverish heat beneath your skin. 

Instead you woke early with no sign of it yet, still dry between your legs and almost cold from the always cool air in the barracks. The only sign had been the itching, crawling feeling beneath your skin. 

You’d made it just past lunch, Kyle bringing in food for you, which you had struggled through, only eating to try and get some last calories into your body. The familiar electrolyte drinks and nutrition bars that will keep both you and John alive over the next week, sit in stacks next to the door, some already set up on your nightstand. Your bed has been stripped down to a sheet, your pillow, and the blanket you slept under last night. Your stuffed animals and decorative pillows sit piled on your desk in the corner. 

It came on suddenly, the heat beneath your skin. The prickling sensation had begun in your core and flared outward to your very fingertips. It had been like a flushing feeling, the heat rippling through you. The book in your hands slid onto the floor as the deep cramping began, making you wince. You’re not quite sure what had been worse, the pain or the initial panic. 

Your phone is on the floor with your book after you’d managed to send a text to Kyle. The panic is still bubbling under the surface as your brain begins to get foggy, its only focus the pulsing between your thighs. It’s been a while since you’ve been awake for the start of your heat. The last one had started in your sleep, and the one before that you had been sedated by the CIA, closely monitored and put under before the itching even began under your skin. 

Your trembling fingers fumble with one of the electrolyte drinks on your nightstand, struggling to wrap around it and then get the cap off. It does little to soothe the dryness in your mouth, but you drink as much of it as you can. 

The door opens, Kyle slipping through before quickly closing it behind him. He approaches the bed, that sympathetic look in his eyes again. He’s not sure what to say, you can tell by his hesitance, but what is there to say in this moment? ‘Good luck, hope John doesn’t accidentally hurt you?’ 

You don’t blame him for his silence, though you know his beta is agitated, wanting to offer you comfort and support, but he can’t. He can’t do much for you this time, only your alpha can. 

Kyle bends down, picking up your phone and book from the floor before checking the charge on your phone. He sets it down on the nightstand, pulling another from his pocket and placing it down next to yours. It’s John’s personal phone. You recognize the familiar olive green case. Kyle will alternate charging them, mostly for John’s peace of mind. Not that he’ll care much about potential calls or messages while he’s knotted inside of you. 

“You’ll be okay.” Kyle says, brushing the wisps of hair stuck to your forehead back. Johnny had braided it last night, his final act of comfort before retreating with Simon to their own quarantined space. Kyle must have noted the nervous edges in your scent still lingering in the air as he tries to comfort you. 

You hold his hand against your face, nuzzling your cheek against his rough palm. It’s not quite enough, he’s not quite enough, but it’s no fault of his own. Your instincts are beginning to take over. The desire for an alpha, your alpha, to help you is overtaking any rational thought. 

Kyle strokes your cheek for a moment before he pulls away, taking the bottle from your trembling hands and tossing it in the trash. He folds your blanket and drapes it over the footboard before setting your book on your desk. 

“John knows.” He says, standing close to the door. “He’ll be in soon.” 

All you can do is nod as you rub your thighs together, trying to get any ounce of friction you can. The fabric of the shirt you’re wearing is like a million tiny knives against your skin, but your hands are useless as they tug at the fabric. You can’t get your body to work enough to pull it off. 

A pathetic whine leaves your lips as the door opens again. You’re still tugging at your shirt, writhing in your attempts to both remove the offending fabric from your skin and also get some relief for the pulsing between your thighs. 

“Alpha...” You whine, vision zeroing in on your alpha as he stands there, staring at you with dark eyes. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, taking slow steps closer and closer to you. 

Another whine falls from your lips as you reach out for him, desperate to feel him against you, like his very touch could ease the fire burning beneath your skin. Your arm is shaking by the time he reaches you, his fingers brushing against your hand. A content purr rumbles in your chest as he finally touches you, rough fingers tracing your palm before continuing down the inside of your arm. A shiver shakes your body at the feeling of his rough calluses against your sensitive skin. You wish those fingers would go elsewhere, your mouth watering at the thought of them between your thighs again. 

“Alpha,” You whine again as he grips your upper arm, yanking you up. 

In one fluid motion he sits on your bed, tugging your body onto his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, your slick dribbling onto the front of his pants. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest, his pupils dilating as his alpha begins to come out, his alpha responding to the thick scent of your pheromones in the room. 

You press against him, but it’s not enough. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the prickling of the hair on his chest against your sensitive skin. His hands trail up your sides, the drag of the fabric of your shirt against your skin making you whine. You need to feel him, not the synthetic material separating you. He slides his hands all the way up, skirting past your breasts and sensitive nipples to grip the neck of the shirt, ripping it down the center. 

Your omega purrs happily at the display of strength, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as he pushes the shirt from your shoulders, freeing you from the overwhelming sensation. His hands flatten against your back, a content purr leaving your lips at the feeling of his skin against yours. You arch into him, pressing your hips against the prominent bulge in his pants. Your fingers tug at his own shirt, but you lack the strength to tear it off him, even as you paw at the fabric. You likely wouldn’t have been able to anyway outside the throes of your heat. 

“Needy little thing.” He purrs, nipping at your bottom lip. 

You chase his lips, kissing him harshly. His fingers dig into your back as you push your tongue into his mouth, licking at his own tongue. Your thighs clench around his hips at the thought of that tongue between your legs, more slick soaking the front of his pants as it gushes out of you. 

His hands slide down to grip your hips, dragging your slit along the front of his jeans. You moan at the delicious friction, pulling away from his mouth to kiss down his throat. His beard tickles your skin as he tilts his head, bearing his throat to you. A low growl rumbles through your chest as he allows himself to be in such a vulnerable position. You’re shaking in his arms as he guides your hips to grind against his pants, legs clenching around his hips. You’re close, the pulsing beneath your veins getting stronger and stronger. 

“Gonna cum like this?” He growls, his grip almost bruising on your hips. “Without me even touching you? Make yourself cum and I’ll give you what you need.” 

Your heat-addled brain somehow comprehends his words, picking out the parts it needs as you shift on his lap, dragging your clit against the seam of his jeans. Your face presses against his throat, devouring his scent straight from the source. It goes right to your head, the earthy scent nearly indistinguishable from the musk of his rut. 

Your body shudders as your first orgasm rocks you, slick gushing out of you like a tidal wave. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin. 

“Son of a-” He curses, delivering a harsh slap to your bare ass. “Fuckin’ naughty little omega.” 

You grin, lapping at the teeth marks you’ve left on his skin as you press your ass into his hand. Your orgasm has provided a little relief, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Not until you have his knot inside you. 

You tug at his shirt again, bunching the fabric in your hands. “Off.” You whine, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He finally acquiesces, pushing you back far enough to tug his shirt off. Drool drips down your chin as you stare at the skin now exposed to you. You can’t help yourself as you lean forward, licking your way across his collarbones and his chest. You slide off his lap, kneeling between his legs as you lick your way down his chest, dragging your tongue across his soft stomach. 

He grips the back of your neck, pulling you away from his skin. Your tongue is still sticking out, almost like it’s trying to taste every last bit of him that might be in the air. “Fuck.” He groans, pushing you back as he moves to stand. 

You grab his hand before he can fully stand, tugging with surprising strength. He falls into you, both of you falling back onto the floor in a mess of limbs. Your omega scratches in the back of your brain, your gaze sharpening as you wrestle with him, finally managing to pin him on the floor. 

His eyes are almost black, a dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. Slick dribbles out of you, smearing on his stomach as you return his growl, baring your teeth at him. You want him to submit, you need him to submit to you. Your omega doesn't care about the obvious challenge, the stupidity of trying to control a rutting alpha. 

Yet, he goes lax beneath you, his gaze still sharp and cautious as he stares at you. 

Your growl softens into a purr as he relaxes, submitting to you for a moment. You bend down again, your tongue flattening against his skin once more. Your eyes are locked on his as you lick the beading sweat on his chest, purring at the saltiness of it on your tongue. You continue your way down his body, following the path down his chest and across his stomach. His eyes leave yours, watching the wiggle of your bare ass as you crawl backwards, continuing to lick across his stomach until you reach the puddle of shiny slick streaked across his skin. 

He lets out a rumbling purr as you lap at your own slick. It’s sweet from your pheromones, yet there’s the familiar tang of your natural taste on your tongue as you clean the mess you’ve made on your alpha’s skin. 

As soon as you deem his skin clean enough you continue downward, licking at the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers are shaking as you paw at his pants, trying to get your fingers to work to remove the last barrier between you. You need your alpha’s cock, you need to see it, to taste it. Your mouth is watering as you fumble helplessly, unable to handle such fine motor skills when all your brain is screaming to do is fuck. 

He pushes your hands out of the way, undoing his pants easily. He wiggles them down enough until his cock has sprung free, heavy and almost throbbing on his stomach. You stare at it wide eyed, drool slipping down your chin as you stare at it. You need it, you need his knot now, the burning under your skin intensifying from how close you are to finally getting what you need. You wrap your hand around his heavy length, the tip already leaking as you lean down, dragging your tongue from his balls to the tip. He lets out a groan as you close your lips around the head, flicking your tongue across his slit. 

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across his head once more before lifting yourself and shifting over his hips. You hold his gaze as you drag his cock through your folds, your needy brain searching for the spot you need. You let out a whine as you find it, his head catching on your entrance. You don’t hesitate, a long, desperate sounding whine falling from your lips as you sink down onto his length. 

It goes in easily, your body opening to him eagerly, your slick aiding the process as it gushes down the length of his cock. You make it halfway before pausing, breathing for a moment before you sink the rest of the way down. 

Your pussy flutters around him, a whimper leaving your lips. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch of his cock inside of you. It’s still not enough, it’s still not what you need, but it does ease the ache throbbing in your pelvis. 

He lays there, eyes hooded as he watches you, content to let yourself use him in your needy state for now. Your hands press against his stomach as he sinks almost impossibly deep inside you, your hips settling against his. He reaches up, pressing against the bulge in your pelvis, your hips jerking at the shock of pleasure that thrums through you. 

He lets out a pleased rumble as you squeeze around him, slick dribbling out around the base of his cock. “Be a good omega, take what you need.” He commands, his alpha rough around the edges of his voice. 

Your hands press firmly against his stomach, using him for leverage as you begin to move, lifting your hips and then letting them drop. Quiet whimpers leave your lips with every movement as his cock drags along your walls. The ache in your bones is finally starting to ease, the burning itch beneath your skin fading. You rock on your alpha’s cock, using his body for your pleasure as he lays there, content to watch you. 

The low rumble in his chest vibrates through you, inaudible under your desperate whines and the squelch of your pussy on his cock, but you can feel it in your hands, your subconscious picking up on it in a way you can’t understand. It only adds to the pleasure coursing through you, your clit throbbing from the friction against his jeans earlier. 

You’re tired, your legs shaking as you begin to slow down. The need pulsing through you is strong, but your heat-addled body is not. You whine desperately as you grind on his cock, seeking out any sort of pleasure you can get as your legs give out, too exhausted and weak to continue. 

“What’s the matter?” John says, lips pulling up in a smirk. “Poor little omega getting tired? Can’t fuck herself on my cock anymore?” 

“Please...” You whine, nearly crying in desperation. “Need your knot alpha.” 

“Then take it.” He says, not making any move to help you. 

“Can’t,” You whine. “Need you to do it. Need you to take care of me.” 

He lets out a growl at your confession, his hands finally moving to your hips. He pulls you off of his cock, flipping you around so you’re on your knees, upper body pressed against the floor. You push your ass up as high as you can for him, presenting for your alpha. He lets out a pleased rumble, his fingers dragging through your slick coated slit. You whine needily, pushing back against his hand. 

“Easy.” He says, pressing close behind you. “Alpha’s got you.” 

Your eyes nearly roll back as he sinks into you again, the change in position nearly making you see stars as he begins fucking in you, the snap of his hips against yours rocking your body on the carpet. Your knees burn but you can hardly feel it as he fucks you through an orgasm, your walls clenching desperately around his cock. Your brain is going hazy again as you feel the swelling at the base of his cock pushing up against your entrance, drool pooling on the carpet beneath you as you wait for it, wait for him to push his knot inside you and tie the two of you together. 

“Alpha...alpha...” You chant the title like a mantra, the sounds slurring together as you push back against him. 

“Take it,” He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady in place. He pushes against you, his knot stretching your pussy as he begins pushing it into you. “Take it...good girl.” 

You whine as his knot pops into place, your body shuddering with another orgasm from the gaping stretch around him. He grinds his hips against you, his knot tugging at the entrance of your pussy as you clench tightly around him. He cums with a groan, his body falling over yours as he spurts his seed into you. You lay there, whining and panting beneath him, sweat still dripping down your back. 

Your brain is starting to float away, your mind going hazy again, but you’re not fighting it this time. You’re giving into your instincts, unable to do anything but submit to them, submit to your alpha. 

“I’ve got you.” Price says softly, gently brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face that have fallen loose from your braid. 

You give into the haze, trusting him to take care of you. 

You’re not sure when you moved to the bed. It’s the crackle of the mattress protector that’s pulled you from your haze for a moment. One of those rare moments of clarity post-knot as you come back into your brain enough to be semi-aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember it by the time you come out of your heat, lost in the mush of hazy memories from the week. 

Your pussy is pulsing around John’s knot, his chest pressed into your back. You still feel hot, feverish as you lay there half out of it. John’s right arm is under you, wrapped around so his hand is against your chest. He’s holding the cap of an electrolyte bottle in his right hand, the plastic cool against your heated skin. 

There’s hands moving in front of you, pulling a charging cord from one phone to put it in the other. There’s voices, but you’re too far in the haze to understand what they’re saying. There’s a scent in the air, clearer and softer than the heavy musk that’s settled in the room. It goes straight to your head, nearly making you black out again. You want to taste it, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. 

Your hand shoots out, surprising even you with how fast it’s moved. Your brain feels slow as it tries to catch up with the movement, your fingers wrapped around someone’s wrist. Your hand has a mind of its own as it pulls the wrist closer, pressing it against your face. 

A soft, fresh scent fills your nose, your eyes fluttering as it pulses through you, your pussy convulsing around John’s knot. He groans behind you, his hips shifting just slightly in response. Your tongue darts out, licking at the wrist pressed against your face, trying to taste the scent. 

Salty, briney, fresh. The sea, you remember from the haze in your mind. It smells like the sea. You continue to lick it, wanting it to consume you, to sink into your brain and ease the aching need. 

“Careful, love.” A soft voice says, cutting through the scent-induced haze you’re in. 

The attached body tries to pull the wrist in your grip away, but you let out a whine, fingers tightening around it as you pull it closer. You drag your tongue against the skin again, letting out a quiet whine. You need it, your hand trembling around his wrist. 

The word feels heavy on your tongue, your heat-addled, scent drunk brain trying to form it on your lips, pushing it from your mind until it vibrates in the air audibly. The process feels like it takes minutes, when in reality it was likely only seconds. You tug on the wrist again, trying to bring the source closer. 

“Stay.” 

NEXT ->

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[fortunekookie07]

Are requests open? May I request a sylus x wife reader (not the mc) where she is afraid of him and feels like he doesn’t love her cause of his cold and intimidating nature. Then mc arrives and she’s hurt and shocked with how he treats her. Now convinced that he doesn’t love her and hates her she keeps her distance and sits alone everyday on the rooftop. Barely eating anything nor sleeping properly she lost the will and strength to sleep next to him and sleeps on the couch or on the rooftop (after she saw him pin down mc onto the bed ya know that scene) . Even starts to think of packing up and leaving telling herself to “prepare” whenever he divorces her.

But one time she gets kidnapped for bait and injured yet sylus hasn’t come for days so she tells her kidnappers “ it’s a waste of time cause sylus won’t come for me, i mean nothing to him , he was already planning to get rid of me. so you might as well kill me right now and save your breaths.” Not knowing that her husband overheard her when he entered before she passed out due to lack of food and exhaustion.

Did You Ever Love Me?

The day you married Sylus was the happiest day of your life. You had been by his side for 3 years. It wasn't the easy life you had once dreamed of, but this was the reality of the N109 Zone. Nothing was easy, and everything had a price.

You still remembered the day you had first met, what a blood bath that had been. Your family had been one of the most influential in the area. Having long established their authority when it came to weapons dealing. Only supplying top-notch weapons.

From a young age your father had made sure you knew the business, drsminf of having you take over. He taught you everything he knew. From the making of the orders, to quality check, and even materials secured.

That day it was your parents 25th anniversary and a big party was thrown for them. Business partners and friends were all invited to the event.

The only thing your father had not warned you about, was the extensive dangers of the N109 Zone. He'd tried to shield you from just how dirty the world could be.

A rival family had crashed the party with a seemingly endless group of thugs. Before anyone had realized what was going on, gunshots filled the air. People started screaming and running in a desperate attempt to get to safety. Pushing and shoving others out of their way as they went.

A stray bullet hit your arm and blood immediately started pouring from the wound. You grunted as the pain slammed into you and momentarily lost your footing just a another bullet whizzed past the air where your head had been seconds ago.

You heard your father calling your name and pushing through people trying to get to you. You could see your mother sitting on the ground near one of the stairs columns. She was tying a makeshift bandage around someone's leg. Trying to staunch the bleeding.

You felt like your life was running in fast forward as you watched your father continue to push through the crowd and then he suddenly stopped moving as his eyes widened and he looked down. Blood was blooming across the white shirt of his suit and staining the black jacket. In the center of the stain was a hole. You felt sick seing that hole pierced through his chest over his heart.

"Father!" Your scream rang over the gunshots and panic as you tried to run to him. The long him of your dress got stepped on and you fell to the floor landing hard on your side. Pain zipped through your body at the hard smack to the unforgiving marble floor.

You desperately fought to get to your feet as it finally seemed like the crowd was thinning out. Thankfully no one stepped on you or your clothes again. Just as you reached your father the gun shots stopped and the following silence seemed to bring the air of dread.

The scent of blood was strong, making you gag as your stomach heaved. You push the feelings back and reach out to the injury, hands shaking as you try to staunch the blood flow. He grunts with the pressure and his eyes open slightly. You start muttering words but even you don't believe what you are saying.

"It's ok father, we can fix this. I'll get help, the doctor will fix you right up and then everything will be ok." Tears arr pouring down your face as he smiles weakly. He reaches for your face, trying to touch your cheek. Just before his hand can touch you a great force yanks you back.

You scream out at the pain, pulling you scalp. A heavy fist has gripped your hair, yanking the strands hardly and then a voice is in your ear. "I'll blast a hole in your head if you move a muscle." The voice growled near your ear as he tightens his grip on your hair. Your cried our in pain and he just tugged harder, you bit back the second cry as hot tears rolled down your face.

His arm grabbed your hand and forced you to your feet, perking you to face the way he wanted. He kicked the back of your knees forcing you to kneel in front of a man. Tugging your head back as he allowed you to stare at the man clearly responsible for this entire plot.

Fear stuck you as a cold, malicious smile stretched across his heavily scarred face. His eye was like flat steel. No luster or shine to its grey depths. A scar cut through his left eye and down his cheek, going all the way down to his mouth. Burn scars were also intermingled on his face.

His eye itself was an ugly milky color, it held no pupil or iris. On the right side of his face three long jagged scars could be seen stretching from his ear down to his chin. Little tremors went through your body. This man had an overwhelming presence and the sense of evil wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little princess. Your father was careful to hide you away from me. Protecting his biggest weakness. I must say I do admire him for that."

In contrast to his appearance his voice was smooth, a slight rasp clung to his words. Whatever had attacked and scarred him had obviously affected his vocal cords. He worked it to his advantage, speaking in a way that soothed you on the surface. Even if his words were unsettling or foul.

He reached for you, his fingers and thumb just barely brushing your face when a loud caw shattered the silence. With the bird cry black and red mist began pouring into the wide space and the air got heavy. As if gravity itself was pushing down on everyone and everything in the room. The mist covered and hid everything in its path. Blinking you realized you couldn't see the man in front of you.

A deep, suave, sexy voice seemed to come from no where as helped had seemed to arrive. "It seems you did not learn your lesson. I don't mind teaching it to you agiain, Osric." The mist wrapped around him, holding him still. Footsteps tapped across the floor, the occasional sloosh as he stepped in a puddle. Your body shuddered, knowing exactly what liquid he stood in.

It took a few minutes before you realized that the man who had been gripping your hair was no longer touching you, or even anywhere near you.

The mist began swirling into the center of the room, right next to you. Looking into the mist you could just make out a tall silhouette. As rapidly as the mist had spread it was now retreating.

A tall well built man was standing right beside you. Silver hair carefully styled. Red eyes piercing and promising danger. The right one seemed to be glowing.

"You have some guts, touching something of mine, I don't take kindly to thievery. The man, Osric, was hoisted into the air with the mist. He gasped and sputtered clawing at the mist to no avail.

Two men appeared by your side then. One offered his hand, bit you hesitate. Both are wearing black crow masks with subtle red lines on the face of the mask and a red tipped beak. Two red horns poke through the hoods they wear and a gold ring is on one of them. The two are slim and tall, you can tell nothing of their appearance. Clothing and masks make it impossible to discern any identifying features.

The first guy is still holding his hand out to you, he seems neither impatient nor upset that you haven't accepted it yet. Finally seeing no consequence to taking his offered hand you lightly place your palm in his. He gently but firmly grasps your hand and assists you in standing. He let's go after you are steady on your feet and positions himself at your side. The second does the same on your right. Like they are bodyguards.

"Screw you Sylus"! Osric sputters out, still trying to break free of the mist. His fingers are bloody from his efforts to free himself. "Luke, Kieran, see to it that she comes to no harm." The silver haired man says as he squeezes his hand. The mist constricts around Osric further cutting of his air flow completely.

One of the two lightly grabs your arm and spins you around just as a sickening crunch reaches your ears. This kind of thing happened a lot here. Those with power ruled over the weak. It was nothing new.

You had long grown accustomed to the way Sylua dealt with traitors and rats. He did not tolerate disloyalty and gave no second chances.

The events of your parents 25th anniversary party had happened five years ago. You often wondered how your life would have gone if you had never accepted his hand when he gave it. Your father had been supplying weapons to Sylus' organization for years. He'd apparently stuck some kind of deal with Sylus, that had involved your protection.

Sylus had married you, per your father's request and now he owned almost half of your family business. Haven acquired your mother and father's shares. He'd left yours to you.

At first you'd been absolutely terrified of him. His aura radiated danger, almost like he was a living grim reaper. He so often came back to the manor covered in blood. The twins were his direct subordinates. They followed his every command quickly and without hesitation. But at least they had a personality and could provide a sense of calm.

It had taken almost a year before you could approach Sylus without feeling nervous. You hadn't been able to understand your fear of him. He'd posed no restrictions on you, didn't make any ridiculous demands and had never threatened you with harm of any kind.

The turning point had been the day he'd come home injured and concern over his bleeding wounds had overrode the fear. Despite his insistence that he didn't need any first aide treatment, Sylus had not pushed you away or tried to stop you from cleaning his wounds.

After that he began spending time with you and talked to you. Before you knew it you looked forward to when he would come home and just talk to you for awhile. These little gestures and act of kindness had resonated in your heart and little by little you felt yourself falling for him.

He'd granted your request to be touched by him and he spent a night with you. Thinking that he too had given his heart to you, you lived your days believing that he loved you back. That was until she appeared.

In an instant his entire demeanor changed. He made her his top priority. Spending any and all time he had with her. Most nights he didn't even come to your room anymore. His side of the bed was often unspent in.

You hadn't officially met her yet, only seen her in passing. She was beautiful. Long dark hair hung in neat and straight lengths down to her very slender waist. Piercing eyes almost the shade of jade framed by thick dark lashes. She was on the shorter side, even you were taller than she was. This woman held some kind of connection with your husband and the knowledge that your place was very quickly being stripped away gnawed at you from the inside.

Wandering aimlessly through the manor one day you discovered the ladder that lead up to the roof. Even though it was cold outside, you still sat there on the roof. Wondering how long it would be before you were forgotten completely.

Despite the cold and the swirling snow, you dozed off hugging your arms to your sides. What seemed like minutes later you were woken up by a piercing light. The sun was beginning to sting your eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun's first rays of the day, you tried to sit up straight. Your whole body was numb and cold. It took several minutes to rub feeling back into your fingers.

Carefully moving away from the edge of the roof you stood up. Your legs shook from the movement. Having been in the same position for too long, they had gone to sleep.

You did some light stretches and gradually the shaking and numbing little stings subsided and you felt more sure on your feet.

Finally you made your way to the roof latch, having left it open all night there was a pile of snow at the base of the ladder and it was freezing cold to the touch.

You descended the ladder and walked around the manor. It was quiet, most everyone was asleep at this time. Feeling the desire to see Sylus, you turn around and head to his room. He was usually there at this time. You hesitate at the door. Whenever you'd come to his room he was usually accompanying you.

Just as your about to knock, a voice addresses you from behind. "He's not here, Sylus went out for work. I've been waiting for him to return since last night." Turning around, you see that woman. Feeling angry for a reason you can't quite grasp, you turn around

and storm by her. Purposely bumping into her on the way by. She stumbles but you keep going.

Your sour mood lingers throughout the day killing any appetite oyi might have had. Your wandering leads you back to the roof and you sit in the same spot from the night before.

From your spot on the roof, you can hear his motorcycle approach the manor and you sit their contemplating what to do. Finally after another two hours you head back to his room. When you get there the door is adjacent and you silently push it open. You feel your heart stop.

There on the bed is Sylus on top of her. She's pinned down and it's very obvious what is going on. His naked back is to you and her equally naked leg is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is intense that you feel your heart break. His hand is twined with hers and pinned above her head. You back away and run down the hall and go to the roof.

Hot tears are streaming down your face as you realized that Sylus had never loved you. He'd just been indulging you for the last several years because you were useful. He could even hate you for all you knew. The one he truly loved was currently tangled with him on his bed.

You feel your heart break further as you realize that with no family or friends you have nothing. You had only ever been useful to Sylus because of you family's business. That was not love and never could be.

You cry yourself to sleep on the roof again, completely defenseless and unaware of the eyes watching you. When you wake up again, there's a dull ache in your head and a ferocious growl in your stomach, but you have no desire to eat or even move.

You sit there watching the stars for what seemed like days. Eventually the sky begins to lighten as the sun begins its ascent across the sky. You continue to sit, even as heavy clouds roll in. Another snowfall is coming, you remembered from the weeks forecast you had read a few days ago. But still you don't move.

It's only when the wind cuts through you, chilling you to the bone that you get up. Once again you rub feeling back into your frozen limbs and head down the ladder. You avoid your room and his. Just the thought of sleeping in a bed you had shared with him makes your stomach turn. Your entire body burns with the feeling if betrayal, but you can neither act on it or alleviate it. The feeling simmers in your stomach driving away the need for food.

Eventually you end up on the couch. The warmth from the fire burning in the hearth slowly warms you up and a drowsy feeling over comes you. Stretching out and pulling the throw down over you, you manage to drift off into a restless sleep.

After what feels like minutes, your body is shaken awake. It's that woman again, hate burns through your veins. You want to tear her apart and rip her to shreds. You glare at everything.

"Hey, the cook said you didn't eat dinner. So I brought you some food" She offers the plate to you. It's all your favorite things. A light fruit salad with beautifully cut fresh fruit and a stack of golden waffles topped with whipped cream and raspberries. Your anger overtakes you and you sit up and shove the plate away from you. She's so surprised at this action that she stumbles back, dropping the plate as she does. The delicate China shatters on the floor as the fruit scattered and the waffles sit there on top of the broken peices.

She looks at you with hurt on her face. "Why did you do that?" She asks just as Sylus enters the room. He looks annoyed at the mess on the floor. Concern overtakes him as he comes closer. Of course none of it is for you, she's the only important one in his eyes. A shard of the plate had bounced of the floor and put a cut on her arm. She had a line of bright red blood blooming out from the slice.

"Did you really think I would accept anything from YOU?" You spit the words at her like venom and stand up. "I know your not so stupid as to be unaware that Sylus is my husband." Your words are as cold as the ice outside. Red blooms across her face as realization strikes her.

You turn to leave the room and just as your about to step into the hall something grabs your arm and yanks you back. Your head whips around and your suddenly face to face with Sylus angry expression.

"She is my guest, you will treat her with respect. Don't lay your hands on her again." You rip your arm from his grasp. "You must think I'm an idiot. She's getting a hell of a lot more than hospitality from you. I owe her NOTHING. She is nothing to me but a sneaky slut that wormed her way into a married man's bed. Both of you disgust me." You storm from the room. As you leave, you take notice of the twins. They are also watching you, but you do not care.

You return to your room and begin to make preparations. You're almost certain now that Sylus hates you. "Divorce is pretty much guaranteed." You say out loud to no one. As you look around the room you realize that nothing in it is truly yours. Everything had been given by Sylus after your marriage. "What a joke I am. I must be the biggest idiot in all of the world. I never should have married him. He was a complete stranger. What a fool!" You kick the dresser in anger, the pain just spurs you on.

After ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them to the floor your anger had only increased. Grabbing the nearest object, your hurl it to the floor. Feeling satisfied as it shatters. You begin throwing things all over the room. In minutes the neat, beautifully decorated room is in shambles. Glass, sheets, books, jewelry, makeup, and nick-nacks are all over the floor. You turn and leave the disaster you made, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can on your way out. The paintings on the wall tremble from the force.

You storm through the manor headed for the stairs again. You don't recognize the lightheaded woozy feeling that has over come you and you feel dizzy as you reach the ladder that goes to the roof. Halfway up, your foot slips. Before you fall, in a burst of adrenaline you manage to grab the ladder securely. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you cling to the rungs. "That was too close," you mutter taking deep, steady breaths.

Undeterred, you climb the ladder anyway, resolute in seeking peace on the roof once more. It takes a lot more effort to climb up than it had in previous climbs. Your huffing and puffing by the time you manage to get up.

As you walk to the ledge and glance at the snow covered ground below, you realize something is off. The footsteps in the snow are not yours and since it had been snowing for hours, the ones from earlier would have long since been hidden under more snow.

You whirl around ad your mind screams danger. You hands fumble through your layers of clothing to grab the knife you always kept with you. It was a custom blade and designed to attach to your bra. Although it was small, it was very sharp and could easily cut and stab in defense. As your hand manages to grab the handle a figure appears from the top of the roof. He easily jumps down to where you are.

"To think that the infamous wife of Onychinus' boss would be so easy to get to. No bodyguard?" He asks in a taunting tone. The man is dressed head to foot in black. His entire body is covered save for his eyes. Black as a blank night sky and soulless. He points a gun at you. "Drop the knife, or I'll put a bullet in you right here." He says his finger twitching on the trigger.

Having been taught how to fight from a small age, you fein dropping the knife as he moves closer. Just as he's within reach you spin it around and drive it into his upper arm. Unfortunately he was prepared for your tricks and fires the gun. The bullet burries itself deep into your thigh. You cry out and collapse to the ground clutching the wound. Blood seeps between your fingers and down your leg. Falling upon the snow.

"You're going to regret that." The man says as he pulls the blade out of his arm and flings it to the ground. He reaches out and grabs you. You're enveloped in a blinding light and then everything fades away. Sight, sound, and feeling are gone.

It feels like you're floating in darkness for a long time. You struggle to move, bit something is restricting you're movements. A rattling sound is the first thing you can hear as your senses come flooding back. The pain slams into you again and you groan. You realize that you've been blindfolded with a thick cloth.

"She's finally awake. I would really like to know about that blade she stabbed you with. It really did a number on your arm. It must have been very sharp.

"Shut up and just do your job. The boss needs information and she's going to have it. He said do whatever it takes to get it out of her. Just don't kill her." A gleeful cackle made you shudder and then footsteps came closer to you.

"Darkness makes the pain more intense. You will tell me what we want to know." The man says and then you can hear metal being moved around. Your heart begins to race. There is nothing for you to tell them. Sylus had always made sure that you knew nothing of his business and plans. You had only ever overseen the production of weapons. You didn't know their purpose or intended use.

"I imagine I'll get away with it if I do kill you though. Osric was his brother just so you know. Boss has a personal grudge to pick with you and Sylus. This is going to be delicious. Let's begin. We'll start with something easy." He said and then you could feel him standing at your side.

Hours had passed since the torture had begun, but no matter what question he asked the result was the same. You didn't know.

He had tried a variety of methods to break you. The first had been pulling you fingernails our. It had been excruciating and you nearly passed out several times. The he had tried whipping you. Your back was a raw bloody mess from all the cuts. That had made you pass out. His ways of waking you up again were resolute. Dumping ice water on you seemed to do the trick.

Your mind felt like it was going to snap if this went on much longer. Your voice was raspy and hoarse from the hours of screaming and crying. At first you had tried to hold back, but this maniac had taken it as a challenge. Several times he had said you were boring him with your instant responses.

"You're n-not going to-o get any.. anything fro-om me. I have nothing to tell. Even if I wanted to." This was not the first time you had said those words. It's just they fell on deaf ears. "Ju-just kill me al-ready. I I'm useless to yo-ou. He-e doesn't ca-are about me. Ju-just end it already. I-I don't kn-ow anything." This went on for days. You knew time was passing but you had no idea how much until finally a different person entered the room.

"Boss is fed up with you. He wants to know why she hasn't spilled her guts yet. He's tired of waiting for what he wants to know. Can't believe three days and she hasn't cracked once." His voice sounded disappointed and uninterested.

You'd lost count of all the methods they had tried to get you to speak. Several times you had begged him to just kill you but he'd only laughed in response. Sleep had been allowed a few times and sips of water had been given.

They had never removed your blindfold, and you were glad that you could not see what had been done to you. Even if you could feel every injury, being able to see them would have made it ten times worse.

Just as he was getting ready to start again, the door was blasted open. It sounded like it had been ripped right off the hinges. Chaos ensued with whatever had cause the door to explode, and the man started yelling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Crashes followed the words, and then a guttural sputter followed. Seconds later, you felt hands touching you, and you flinched, thinking that more pain would follow. To your surprise, the restraints on your arms and legs were removed, and then someone was carefully helping you sit up. A pair of hands touched the blindfold and then dim light hit your eyes. You screwed them shut feeling that it was painful.

Every part of your body hurt. Stinging and burning sensations were running rampant all over and you just wanted it to end. "We need to move." A familiar voice said in your ear. You open your eyes, ignoring the pain from the light and look at the voice. To your complete surprise Luke and Kieran are by your side.

"We've come to get you. Boss is so angry. I don't want to stick around here." The twins had their usual care free attitude as they watched you. "Why?" You asked looking at the pair. You could sense their confusion. "What do you mean why? You're Boss's wife. Of course he will take back what is his." One of them said as the other drapped a blanket over you and then carefully picked you up.

You grimaced and tried not to show the pain. "M-my leg is broken." You managed to get out between gritted teeth and gasps. They said nothing as they took you out the door.

Having never seen any of the place you were in, you were surprised at the twisting hallways and maze like route that you were taking. But the twins seemed undeterred and walked quickly. Before long there was a heavy metal door in front of you. It was all dented and it looked like an explosion had hit it. The door was already adjar and upon further investigation, you notice that it's hanging off the hinges.

Walking down another short hallway you come up into a large room. With a start you realize that blood is everywhere and there are bodies scattered through out the room. At the front leaning against a table is Sylus. He looks irritated and he has blood spattered on his face. He stands up straight when he sees you and the twins. His gaze hardens as he looks you over.

"Why did you come?" He looks at you blankly, his face giving nothing away. He just looks at you like he's staring right through you.

"Did you ever, even for one second love me?" You ask after several tense minutes go by. He still says nothing. Feeling the unsaid confirmation of what you had thought to be true now a reality you close your eyes against the tears.

A minute later and you open them again. "I am over this. I just want it to end. I don't care about anything anymore. I no longer want anything as I also posses nothing. You can have it all. I just want it to end." After letting go you feel like a weight has fallen off your shoulders. All the hate and resentment you'd felt several days ago has disappeared.

"Take her to the manor and contact the dr." Sylus finally says after many moments. The twins immediately move out. Despite their best efforts you get jostled several times and the pain makes you pass out. You surrender to unconsciousness, thankful to escape for however short a time it will last.

Over the next several months you are confined to bed to allow you injuries to heal. The scarring isn't as bad as you had though it would be, but it extends over most of your arms legs and back. The whip scars will never disappear and serve as a constant reminder to never show your back to anyone.

Eventually the day arrives that the dr tells you all of you injuries have healed and he discharges you from his care. Eight months have passed since that day and finally you are back on your feet. Having packed a bag with a few sets of clothes you grab the strap and the papers you had asked for a few days ago.

Without hesitation you go to Sylus' office and open the door. He is sitting at his desk reading some documents. You walk over and set two things down. One of them reads Transfer of Assets and the other says Annulment of Marriage. Placing a pen on top of it you say resolute "sign them and then you'll never see me again." You take a step back and wait.

He sets the papers down and looks at what you have placed on his desk with a raised eyebrow. "What is this?" You inwardly sigh. "Sinc you do not love me and I have no desire to play second fiddle to anyone else I am not staying. Clearly there is no place for me here. This is to repay the treatment I was given. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing." You're confidant that with relinquishing your rights to your family's business and everything you endured being at his side will more than repay him.

He appears to be lost in thought as he reads over the papers. "You really want nothing in return?" The only thing you had asked for in the divorce agreement was that he not seek you out and that your paths never cross again. You nod and finally he moves to sign them. You turn on your heel and walk out of the door, out of his manor. This corrupt part of the city and out of his life forever.

A sense of peace washes over you as you get into your car and turn the ignition. Ready to begin your own life.

****************************************************

And thus ends another one. I did make some tweaks to the original plot line I was given because it flowed better in this way. I do hope you don't mind. I stuck to what you gave me as much as possible. I hope you enjoyed this one

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[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 9 | spencer reid.

Spencer wakes up in hospital and he's relieved to see you by his side.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, hospital ward, mentions of gunshot wounds, stitches, bruising, etc. mild suggestive stuff.

a/n: im actually crying this is cute

Spencer didn’t recognise where he was at first.

His eyes blinked open slowly, the beeping of the heart monitor being the first thing he heard. The first thing he felt was much worse, like he had been hit by a bus. He let out a shaky breath, his abdomen aching painfully as he tried to sit up. He froze when he heard a soft sigh beside him. It took a lot of effort for him to move his head, but he finally did and his heart warmed at the sight of you, sound asleep with your head next to his thigh.

You had your hand loosely over his, your other hand tucked under your head to make the uncomfortable sleeping position a little more comfortable. Spencer lifted his hand from under yours, gently running a hand over your head. The contact was enough for you to wake almost instantly.

“Spencer?” You mumbled tiredly, sitting up straight in the hard plastic hospital chair. You looked at him and felt tears come to your eyes when he tiredly smiled at you, his hand still resting in your hair. You let out a breath of relief, grabbing his hand and peppering it with soft kisses. “You scared me.”

“I love you too,” Spencer’s voice was weak, but he wanted it to be the first thing he told you. It was all he could think about while he was lying in the grass, staring at the sky. Despite the immense pain, thinking of you helped soothe him.

“W-What?” You wiped the tears from your cheeks, furrowing your brows at him. Of all the things you expected Spencer to say, it wasn’t that. You thought he might say something witty or start apologising.

“I love you too,” he repeated, a little more confident this time. “I didn’t get to tell you and I was scared I would never get to… after I was shot.”

You let out a breath of a laugh as you stood up, cautiously leaning over Spencer to press a kiss to his forehead. You were far too nervous to touch him anywhere else, fearing you would cause further damage.

“You look exhausted,” he mumbled.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear,” you retorted playfully, sniffling gently.

Spencer held your hand, “I’m serious. You should go home… These chairs are awful.”

“I wanted to be here when you woke up,” you replied, smoothing some of his hair out of his face.

“And I’m awake now,” he whispered, “you need to rest.”

“If anyone needs to rest, it’s the guy who got shot,” you chuckled, sitting back down in the hospital chair, still holding his hand. Spencer gave you a disapproving look, you waved him off, “I’m fine, Spence. Really.”

“At least eat something,” he sighed, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“I’m fine-”

“I know you,” Spencer said, “you haven’t eaten since I’ve been out.”

You sighed in defeat, letting him gently cup your cheek, “I will go get the nurse first, then I’ll go get something to eat,” you compromised. Spencer knew he wouldn’t win with you so he agreed.

You pressed the call button, waiting for the nurse to arrive before you even thought about leaving Spencer’s side. She checked his vitals, assessed his wound dressing and asked him a couple of questions before leaving the two of you alone again. Spencer gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes with a smile, finally leaving to find something to eat.

You found a 24-hour Seven Eleven at the hospital food court across the road. You picked out a ramen bowl and a drink for yourself before you noticed the little cups of Jell-o in the fridge. Knowing it was Spencer’s favourite, you bought about four of them. 

Spencer was sitting up when you got back, a slight pained expression on his face. The nurse had brought him some food and Spencer was not a fan of crappy hospital food. Spencer dropped his fork on the overbed table, giving up.

“Not a fan?” You chuckled.

“Tastes like a boot,” he grumbled.

You giggled softly before reaching into your plastic bag of goodies, “well, lucky for you, I’m the best girlfriend ever.” You pulled out the little cups of red and green Jell-o.

“Oh, I love Jell-o!” He exclaimed excitedly, reaching for the cups of Jell-o. He leaned cautiously toward you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled. You watched as he winced in pain slightly, moving back to comfortably sit lean on the bed. “Be careful, please. I just got you back, don’t go doing more damage.”

“Right,” Spencer nodded, peeling the plastic from the top of his Jell-o cup. He shoved a spoonful in his mouth, humming in delight, “way better.”

Spencer spent another 2 weeks in hospital for monitoring and you stayed by his side the entire time. Despite your protests, he pestered the nurses and doctors until they got you a more comfortable chair to sleep in. You still stayed awake to make sure Spencer got some sleep, refusing to rest until you knew he was asleep himself. 

After giving him the all clear, the nurses and doctors gave you strict instructions to keep Spencer from hurting himself further and risk tearing his sutures. You knew getting Spencer to relax would be a mission in itself so you made sure to call Hotch to let him know and you took a full month off work to make sure Spencer was settled before you left him on his own.

“Guys, I can walk to the car,” Spencer protested as you and Morgan helped him into the car.

“Doctor’s orders, kid,” Morgan retorted, he looked at Spencer pointedly, “now, you’re going to listen to Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Morgan,” Spencer replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Thanks for this, Derek,” you said, tossing Spencer’s bag into the backseat.

“It’s no trouble, pretty girl,” Derek smiled, “call me if you need anything or he’s getting on your nerves.”

“Will do,” you laughed.

Getting Spencer to the elevator and down the hall to your apartment proved to be more of a mission than you anticipated. Once you pushed your apartment door open, little Tofu came trotting up to the two of you, meowing relentlessly as if she was questioning where the hell you two had been. 

“Tofu!” Spencer beamed as she rubbed up against his leg. “Mom and dad are home,” he cooed. It took everything in his power to not bend down and rub her belly, but he knew it probably wasn’t the best idea after he’d been shot.

You grinned at his referral of you as ‘Mom and Dad’ to your little fur baby. You helped Spencer to your room, helping him sit down on your bed. You kneeled on the ground, untying his laces (since he hated taking his shoes off with the laces still tied) and placing them neatly next to your much smaller sneakers in the closet.

“Alright,” you breathed, “I know you don’t like pain medication-”

“No,” Spencer warned. You knew what had happened a few years back and you never pushed him to take anything when he was in pain, but being shot sort of had unique circumstances.

“Oi,” you retorted, giving him a warning look, “at least take something mild so you can get some sleep.”

“Okay,” he sighed. You gave him a very mild medication, something you took when you had a headache or back pain. You knew it wouldn’t do too much but it would at least provide some relief.

“I’ll be just outside, call me if you need anything,” you kissed his forehead, helping him lay back in bed, pulling the covers over him gently.

“Could you stay?” he muttered softly, looking up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes. Your heart melted and of course you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” you whispered.

You crawled into bed beside him, fishing around your covers for the remote and putting on some random documentary.

“I’ve seen this one,” Spencer mumbled.

“That’s the point, Spence. If I put on a documentary you’ve never seen then you won’t go to sleep,” you chuckled.

“Fair enough,” he said with a small laugh. 

Spencer went quiet after that, a soft yawn pulling from his throat as he relaxed into your comfy bed. You tucked yourself in close to him, letting him rest his head on your chest as you played with his hair, trying to soothe at least a little of his pain. He dozed off shortly after that, your apartment proving to be far more comfortable than a hospital bed in a freezing cold ward.

It was almost 2am when you woke up abruptly. You sat up in bed when you heard something fall in your bathroom. Looking beside you in bed, Spencer was gone and you knew his stubborn self tried to do something without waking you.

“Spencer!” You threw your bathroom door open, your eyes softening as you saw Spencer with his shirt halfway over his head, his arms tangled in the fabric. You helped him pull it over his head before you began scolding him, “Spencer, you’re supposed to wake me!”

“...I just wanted to shower,” he frowned.

Your heart softened and you sighed, “Okay, I’ll help you.”

You turned the water on, keeping your hand under the running water until it was warm enough for Spencer’s liking. You helped him take his sweatpants off and you helped him into the shower. Your heart aching at the sight of his red abdomen. It looked like it hurt a lot. The bruising had gone down significantly since the last time you saw it but it still looked awful. The thin incision was far smaller than you’d expected, given the damage the bullet had caused to everything beneath his skin.

Your shirt began to get wet and you decided you’d just shower with him. You pulled your shorts off and kicked them to the corner, pulling your (Spencer’s) shirt over your head and tossing it aside too. You gently washed every inch of him with unscented soap, making sure to be extra careful around his stomach. 

Spencer leaned almost his whole body weight against you as you washed his skin. He felt remotely human again being clean, sick of the awkward sponge bathes he had to have in the hospital. You washed his hair too, the feeling of your fingertips scrubbing his scalp soothing the aches in his muscles. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled against your wet hair.

“You don’t have to thank me, Spence,” you replied, rinsing the soap suds from his hair.

Spencer loosely wrapped his arms around your waist just revelling in the feeling of the warm water hitting his back. You rubbed the back of his neck, your other hand tracing small circles along his back. The two of you stood there for a good 20 minutes before you finally turned the water off and helped dry him.

You gently patted his wound dry and put a fresh dressing over it. You grabbed a fresh pair of clothes for him and helped him into them before helping him back to bed, still adorned in just a towel. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at you.

“I love you,” he said softly, grasping both of your hands in his.

“I love you too,” you replied, pressing a long peck to his lips. You let Spencer hug you close, pressing his head against your sternum with his arms loosely wrapped around your hips. You combed your fingers through his freshly washed hair, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

He finally let go of you after you mentioned still being dressed in nothing but a towel. You hung both your towels up in the bathroom before stepping into your slightly cold bedroom to pick some clothes for yourself.

Spencer whistled from where he was lying in your bed, his eyes raking over your naked body. You rolled your eyes playfully, looking at him. “Come here,” he grinned.

“Absolutely not,” you retorted.

Spencer frowned, “why?”

“I think sex after a gunshot wound to the stomach isn’t the best idea, Doctor,” you teased, pulling a pair of panties on and one of Spencer’s shirts to wear.

“Who said anything about sex?” Spencer retorted childishly.

“You implied it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too- you know what? I’m not doing this with you,” you chuckled as you padded over to the bed, pulling the covers aside to lie down beside him. Spencer tucked himself close to you, lying his head next to yours.

“Only joking… sort of,” Spencer grinned.

“Mmm, thought so,” you laughed, closing your eyes to finally catch up on sleep. The two of you lied in comfortable silence before Spencer’s hand cheekily creeped up to cup your breast through the shirt you were wearing, you pried one of your eyes open, “Spencer…”

“Okay, okay, I promise I’m done!”

a/n: i want spencer to fondle my tiddies :(

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencereidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn @valinherfantasyworld @khxna @maybe-not-this @shardsofmarxx @danadinosaur3 @justsarahbella @ah-blossom @lorelaireid @btskzfav @reidsdoll @pinkpantheris @violetvsworld @readergf @pangirl-fangirl @emideadpoets @blackbeautyiloveyouso @feyresqueen @amethyst-marie368

[queers-gambit]

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[corpsebasil]

Karma Part 2

ghostface is your friend, and he loves playing games with you

A gloved hand grabbed your mouth at the same time an arm looped around your waist, yanking you up off the floor and backwards.

You shrieked into the attacker’s palm, your voice muffled; you’d just been shot at—shot at—barely thirty seconds before. Sam and Tara were crouched in a different isle of the small convenience store, and Ghostface…he was carrying a gun, and had barely missed you by an inch.

“Shut up.” A voice growled low into your ear, as you were tugged, helplessly, through the employees only door until it slammed shut. He dragged you for several more seconds before dropping you, watching as you jumped to your feet and stared, wide eyed, at a second Ghostface.

“I know Karate!” You lied, holding your hands up. “I will defend myself!”

“I just saved your ass.” The killer hissed, voice almost a whisper, and raised a finger to his mask, as if telling you to be quiet. Then he pointed to the back door of the room—an emergency exit.

“What?” You whispered back, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard another gunshot. “I cant just leave the others they—”

Ghostface moved towards you so fast you almost fell over in your haste to get away, but it was no use. He took your arm and dragged you towards the exit, grip bruising as he shoved it open. The alarm practically split your teeth open and you cringed, watching as he jabbed his finger over and over at the outside ally.

“I cant.” You insisted, eyes still wide, heart hammering as you looked at the killer. You knew—obviously you knew—that this was the one that had spared you. Had taken you to the hospital. You still weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“They left you.” The killer snarled, and shoved you out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

You just stood there, breathing heavily in the night air outside, and made up your mind. You turned and ran, eager to get to your apartment as fast as you could.

Tara called you an hour later, after you’d showered and attempted to calm yourself, sitting alone on the couch in your living-room. You picked up the phone and, with shaking fingers, answered.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you?” Her tone was both accusatory and worried, and guilt you didn’t want to feel slammed through you.

“I found an emergency exit,” you said, gritting your teeth against the lie. “he almost shot me. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No that’s—that’s fine. Sam and I are both fine, by the way.”

“Okay. Good.” You ran a hand over your face and sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “Hey Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there might be…more than one?”

The line went silent for a moment. Then she spoke.

“There always is.” She told you, and then you heard the clicking noise that said she’d hung up.

You stared down at your phone for a moment, feeling a bit sick. Your apartment felt creepy when you were alone, the darkness creeping around every corner. So you stood, moving to your kitchen, and did what you always did when you were stressed: you baked.

You’d bring the cookies to school tomorrow and hopefully everything could feel normal for at least an hour or so.

So you began, googling a recipe and mixing your ingredients, your oven a warm presence behind you. Just as you’d gotten the first batch in the oven, the rest of the dough still in the mixing bowl, your phone rang again. You answered on autopilot, licking a bit of chocolate off the tip of your finger.

“Yeah?” You asked, propping the phone against your shoulder and holding it there as you rinsed your hands free of sugar, then toweled them off.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You dropped your phone, yelping when it landed on your bare toes, and then quickly snatched it up. Heart racing, giving your apartment a quick glance for any signs of another presence, you slowly lifted to phone back to your ear.

“Is this the gun one or the other one?” You asked, voice quavering a bit as you searched around for a possible weapon.

“I’m offended, Y/N.” Ghostface sighed, just as you found a knife. “I thought we were friends by now.”

“We aren’t friends.” You scoffed, stepping around your kitchen island to do a sweep around your livingroom, then ducking your head into your bathroom. You flipped all the lights on you could, still looking, heart hammering against your ribcage. “And you’re confusing. Stop playing with my head and just kill me if you’re gonna kill me.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to die you sure ask for it a lot.”

“I know my odds.” Your voice felt small as you approached your closet, knife outstretched in front of you as you moved towards it. “I’d rather be realistic.”

“A nihilist. I like it.” He chuckled, and that dark laugh shot goosebumps across your skin. “But I don’t break my promises, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you. Not too much.”

“Bastard.” You grumbled, flinging open your closet doors. There was no one. “Are you even—”

“You shouldn’t talk to your friends that way.” Ghostface said, but it wasn’t through the phone.

You screamed when an arm crushed around you, forcing you to drop the knife in your hand. He pulled you away from the closet, towards the living-room, even as you thrashed in his grip. But then he was letting you go, pointing a threatening finger in your direction.

“No knives.” He said, shaking his head as if in disappointment. “You’re smarter than that.”

“Get out of my apartment.” You spat, backing away towards the kitchen. “Get out or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” He tilted his head, walking around the opposite side of the island and towards you. You stilled as he neared, your hands itching with the urge to go for the nearest weapon, but then stiffened when he pointed to the oven. “Gonna get those?”

You nearly screamed when your kitchen alarm went off, slamming a hand against your chest as you jolted. Ghostface shrugged, as if in nonchalance, as he reached for an oven mitt.

“What the hell are you—give me that.” You scoffed, moving towards him to yank the glove out of his grip. You shooed him away, giving him a lethal stare, before removing the cookies from the oven. There was no way—no way in Hell that you were doing domestic activities with a serial killer. You’d lost your mind. Lost it.

You felt his presence like a knife poised to strike behind your back, watching you as you set the cookies down on the stove and inspected them. When you were done, you turned, unsurprised to see him hardly a foot away from you. He tilted his head, that creepy, pale mask looking down, before he moved a step closer.

You froze.

“Relax, Y/N.” He purred, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. The material of the glove felt wrong against your skin. “I only wanted to visit my…newest friend.”

“You’re sick, you know that?” You said, pushing his chest away when he moved even closer. He only leaned into your touch, your arm bending involuntarily as that mask, that freaky ass mask, stared back. “You kill people. Innocent people.”

“They weren’t innocent.” He snarled, and turned you, grabbing your waist and shoving you against the opposite counter. You let out a cry and tried to scramble away, but he held you fast. “Stay away from them.” He said; the killer seemed to be breathing as hard as you. “Or you’re going to get caught up in their shit.”

“They’re my friends—”

“I’m your friend.” This time, you only stared as he moved away, glancing quickly around your kitchen before he moved towards the stovetop, picking up a cookie off the pan. You gaped. “Take my advice. Or don’t.” He said, then left, practically vanishing out your front door, leaving you without hardly any breath, heart still pounding, alone.

-

You couldn’t get there fast enough.

You searched and searched, scanning your usual study rooms, then the library. Then you checked outside and relief hit you like a shot, your feet carrying you swiftly over to where Ethan, Chad, Mindy, and Tara sat. Ethan looked up first, a smile growing onto his face as you approached, already rising from his seat.

You threw yourself into his arms so fast you almost knocked him over, a choking sound leaving your mouth as every ounce of terror and confusion you’d been feeling since last night slammed into you again.

“Hey—hey—” Ethan’s voice was stunned, but he still held you, arms warm against your back. “What is it? Y/N, what—”

“He was in my house.” You cried, shoulders heaving, even as Chad and the others moved over to you, already asking a flurry of questions. Ethan waved them off with a hand, trying to give you some space.

“Who was?” He asked, and you almost snorted. “Ghostface?”

“Who else?” You sucked in a shaking breath, pulling back half an inch to wipe the wetness off of your face. “He said he—was my friend. And that he wasn’t going to hurt me too much, whatever that means, and then he—”

“Are you hurt?” He demanded, pulling back to give you a once-over, but you laughed. This seemed to surprise him. “What’s so—”

“He stole a cookie.” You told him, hysteria almost rising as you reached into your tote bag and pulled out the container. You shoved them at Ethan, still feeling slightly crazed. “A cookie.”

“Maybe he’s into sweets.” Ethan’s worried expression had relaxed into one of amusement, his white teeth flashing in a grin as he took the box out of your hand. He opened the lid and looked in, nodding appreciatively. “Double chocolate. I like it.”

“Oh hush you’re—” but a laugh escaped you, watching him take a comically large bite, rolling his eyes back into his head, and the others seemed to take your change in attitude to be a sign they could approach.

They asked you about a hundred questions but finally took cookies of their own, slumping back down onto the seats of the table they’d been at before. Mindy was watching you, a confused, almost worried look on her face, but quickly showed you an aggressively raised eyebrow when she caught you looking.

You jumped a little when Ethan took you hand, tilting his head in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot.

“Wanna skip?” He asked, giving you that boyish grin again. “If we’ve got a killer on the loose, I don’t feel like going to Math.”

You smiled hesitantly and gripped his hand in your own, a thrill running through you at the fact that he was touching you so casually.

“You’re the worst study partner I’ve ever had.” You lied, as you pulled him towards the parking lot, and he laughed.

-

Later, after lunch with Ethan and a day trip to the aquarium, you sat together on your couch, you curled up next to him as you watched the newest Spiderman movie. Ethan had occasionally commented, sometimes complaining about a detail that wasn’t comic accurate, sometimes an excited statement about some action scene.

During the aquarium visit you’d walked through the dark halls, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally as you peered at the tiny fish, the sharks, and the turtles. Ethan hooked his pinkie around your own, sending a jolt of what felt like electricity through your system, and, after a beat, you’d slipped your hand fully into his.

Now, as the credits began to roll on the movie, you yawned, turning and pressing your cheek against his chest. He was running a hand idly down your back, his head resting on your own. He gave you a sudden shake and sat up a bit further, turning to look at you.

“Want me to stay?” He asked, tilting his head, and you glanced up. “In case he..comes back?”

You chewed your bottom lip and glanced towards the front door. It would be nice to have backup. Especially attractive backup.

“I‘ll sleep on the couch.” He offered, raising his brows, and you were surprised by how fast you said no.

“It’s safer if we’re together.” You told him, ignoring the blush rising onto your face.

You were surprised to see him turning slightly red as well; you’d known him for a while now, had spent multiple days a week popping into each other’s apartments—hell, he’d slept in your hospital bed with you. He’d been shy at first, almost awkward, but he’d grown comfortable with you. Confident even, sometimes even cocky when he joked around with you. But now his face was flushed, his brown eyes warm as he looked down at you.

“I suppose that’s a smart point.” He mused, a lazy grin that made your heart drop into your stomach pulling onto his face.

And you couldn’t help it. You reached for him, tugging his face down to your own, and pressed your mouth to his. He leaned into you eagerly, his heart racing as fast as your own, as he tugged up, pulling you into his lap. You settled around him and kissed him hard, your fingers slipping into his dark hair.

“So did you—” he gasped against your mouth. “like the movie?”

You laughed and tugged on a piece of his hair, making him grin. He wrapped his arms around your back as you held his face in your hands, brushing your tongue lightly into his mouth. At the feel of you he whined softly, making you jolt away.

“Excuse me?” You asked, raising a brow as he flushed. “None of that. It makes me feel things.”

“What kinds of things?” He teased, but he was clearly embarrassed, so you pretended to think, even as you scooted farther into his lap and pressed fully against him.

“Things you aren’t allowed to do in horror movies if you want to live.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and tugged you into him, his mouth claiming your own. This time it was his tongue, his fingers gripping you, that made you sigh.

-

When you woke, an arm thrown over your head and the other tucked against your chest, you felt the growing familiarity of the body pressed against you in bed. You let out a moaning noise as you stretched, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but you felt Ethan’s arm tighten around your waist.

“What did we say…” he mumbled, voice low and sleepy. “about those types of noises?”

You giggled sleepily and wiggled a little, allowing him to tug you closer under the covers. Your eyes slid shut as his mouth began placing slow, lazy kisses on the back and side of your neck, murmuring tiny compliments onto your skin.

“I like you.” He said, voice still quiet. “A lot.”

You smiled and snuggled closer, impossibly close, tangling one of your legs with his own.

“I like you too, E.”

hellooooo continue commenting for part three!

[grimesgirll]

heyy could you write Negan smut, with them both fighting for dominance while they fuck, taunting each other; Maybe because they known each other before the apocalypse so she isn’t as intimidated by Negan like the rest.

you have to be the hottest thing he’s seen in quite sometime.

negan, simon, and dwight had heard the gunshots from your shotgun and stumbled upon you; all alone, fending off a few dozen walkers.

simon had insisted that they leave and not risk their safety for “some broad”, and negan was on board until he realized that wasn’t just any broad - it was you.

the three cut through the horde of walkers at negan's insistence. braving bloated corpses and trudging over the trampled isn't a simple feat - even with guns. minutes pass until you're finally face to face. half dazed, you did a double take once your eyes suddenly met the disgraced gym teacher's.

then you hit the ground.

when you woke up, mr. smith was there. you were shocked to see him and even more surprised to learn that he was the leader of an up and coming survival group.

“what about your wife?” you’d asked. “mrs. smith is really cool.”

made slightly dramatic by age, the pained twist of the former faculty's face has you regretting your question.

mrs. smith was really cool.

mr. smith had once been too. kind as well. negan is looks cool, and you can't deny that there's a cult of personality that can't be beat with him. not kind though.

no, you'd learned your first week that the gym teacher who had once teased you about college partying on the playground was now a certified psychopath. as a teaching assistant and faculty shadow at the school, you'd befriended negan easily. the two of you pulled off witty banter as you dropped the kids off for gym, even accepting invitations to join the day's activity.

mr. smith was no more and negan's now burning faces off. you'd seen that. just like you'd seen the floggings, the beatings, the spankings, and even the wall. waking up one day to see the nurse you'd grown fond of outside wandering as a walker was enough for you to tweak.

“what did she do?”

negan looks up from a map of northern virginia to grin at you. “hey, doll! what’s goin’ on?” he kicks his feet up on the desk. “don’t see much of you around here.”

“yeah, because i can barely get by your goons.”

he shrugs. “seems like you got up here just fine.”

you’d sideskirted fat joey when he left his post to top off his dr. pepper. it was easy enough to walk your way to negan’s office to confront him.

“why is the woman who trained me walking around the front yard as a zombie?” you question, not breaking eye contact with the smirking leader. “what could she have done to deserve that?” you let out an exasperated breath, reigning it in with another deep umhals before asking, “don’t you think that’s fucking extreme?”

if negan softens, you really can’t tell. all that comes from the man is a laugh. “you mean the nurse who was planning on robbin’ us all blind and hightailing it with nearly all of our narcotics?”

you don’t even have the care to gawk at him. “could she not have been rehabilitated?”

he scoffs at you. “once an addict, always an addict.”

a sudden wave of dread comes over you, and for a moment you think it may be your lunch coming back up but one look at your former fellow faculty member and you know it’s purely disgust.

“she was my friend!”

“you’ll make more!”

“she was my only friend here,” the words croak out of your mouth.

negan just chews on his lip and shrugs. “sorry, honey, you’ll just have to start bein’ friendlier then.” a smirk spreads across his leather-like, aged face. “might have to drop the whole resting bitch face.”

you’re fuming. the column of rage growing from your belly pangs with no place to go. “for you freaks?”

your outburst has fat joey huffing and puffing his way through the threshold of the door.

“everything, okay, boss?” the grunt looks from your red face to his relaxed leader. “sorry bout’ her. she shouldn’t be up here.”

negan waves a hand. “don’t worry about it, joey. i can handle her.”

joey nods when a “handle me?” is flying from your mouth and negan just shoots him a cheeky grin.

“let me walk you back down there, doll.” negan insists.

when he rises from his desk, you realize how he towers over you, something you’d never clocked despite how often you two had been in close quarters back at school. you’re glaring up to meet his dark eyes - the ones that glint in the light like he hadn’t subjected a young woman to the most gruesome death - not including her life after death.

“this way, you,” negan is shepherding you with a hand on your back and all you can do is grumble as you pass his lazy goon.

once the two of you are in the hallway, you slap his hand off of him. “don’t touch me,” you sneer.

he chuckles. “whatever you wish, princess, just stop interrupting me from my important shit with your emotional shit, ‘kay?”

you shake your head. “what would mrs. smith think of all this? surely you don’t think you’re in the right. your wife would’ve hated this.”

negan gestures to the empty, desolate stairwell the two of you are descending. “she look like she’s here?”

“doesn’t matter. what happened to your morals?” you spit, stopping in your tracks to turn and face the taller man, standing on a higher step so that you’re both at eye level. “you were a school teacher.”

“yeah, and you would’ve been dead if we hadn’t brought you in.”

“so i should be happy with the freak show you’re putting on here?”

the expressive leader throws his arms out to motion to the compound. “look around, it’s bread and circuses!” he says simply. “you work, you get a bed, and a safe place to live.” a devious expression overtakes his countenance. “and a show!”

“i hate it here.” you declare nastily.

he snorts. “you hate not being in control, and all the safe little assurances we had before. things are different now.”

“no,” you counter, face coming closer to his. “you’re different now.”

“gotta be to survive nowadays, darlin’, now hurry it up. you need to get back to stitchin’ up my men so they can go out and bring you back ravioli, morphine, soap, toilet paper, all that shit you’re bitchin’ about having.”

“you’re a psycho,” you huff at him as he ushers you down the stairs, another level, and the familiar way towards the infirmary.

“you’re just not adjusted yet. just stick to changing bedpans and we won’t have a problem,” negan instructs with a hand on your back again.

you brush him off once you two have entered the sterile, white infirmary where doctor carson is talking quietly with one of negan’s goons.

“what’s goin’ on here, doc?” negan questions, startling the two.

negan’s man is pale - and sweating buckets. the doctor stands from his bedside to face negan.

“hello, negan, we were just finishing up.”

“finishing up what?”

the pit in your stomach grows when you notice the sickly man on the bed scurrying to fold the fabric of his shirt back over his stomach. the doctor has a pokerface but you didn’t need them to answer to know what was going on.

“what’s goin’ on, dan? feelin’ alright?” negan doesn’t give the doctor a chance to answer before he’s next to his commissioned scavenger, towering over him now.

dan nods. “feelin’ fine. just scraped up and tired as hell after gettin’ back from carolina.”

“i bet!” that loud voice booms throughout the room. “mighty long trip that was. thanks again, man.” the clap to dan’s back from his leader almost has him buckling. “but you don’t look so good, bud. got something to tell me?”

“negan-,” the doctor starts but he’s quickly silenced by a simple raise of the leader’s hand.

“nope, doc. i wanna hear it from dan here.”

the man’s nervous eyes flicker from doctor carson and to you. you want to crumple where you stand. though his eyes are pleading, there’s nothing you can do. only manage your growing disgust as you watch negan reach for his sidearm.

then negan does something that surprises you, he leans down to embrace the man in a hug.

“thank you, it was just a long trip.” dan’s bumbling, but negan shushes him.

“don’t worry bout’ it, dan.”

that’s when the bullet departs the chamber and implants itself in dan’s brain.

the man who’d just been alive slumps down and falls onto the newly bloodied bedsheets. the white wall behind him is sprayed with brains and chrome. the salt and pepper haired leader stands from the bed and yawns, stretching as if he wasn’t leaving a mess of blood and trauma for you and the doctor to clean up and process.

“back to work. keep an eye on her, doc.”

“negan, you sick fuck.”

this time, negan’s holding his council and heatedly harping on gregory.

the man lets out an exasperated breath. “who the fuck wasn’t watching the door?”

his legion of doom is bewildered to see the sullen nurse standing in the doorway. dwight’s apathetic as always, but is the first to offer to escort you out while simon’s telling gregory to “shut the fuck up” and laura’s looking at you as if no one could be more annoying as to drag this meeting on.

“joey!”

one shout and you hear heavy footsteps thudding down the hall. breathing raggedly, the guard wraps himself around the doorway and drops his sandwich at the sight of you.

“so sorry, boss. she really sneaks in!”

the older man just shakes his head. “don’t let it happen again or gregory gets it.”

laughter erupts from the room. everyone at the table is dropping their dauntless demeanor as if on cue. the only one not laughing is gregory of course.

“negan, listen-,”

“ah!” negan interrupts him, straining against his leather jacket when he turns his body towards him. “you shut it! i hate having my shit interrupted, and i hate having supply drops interrupted far more than meetings.” he directs his attention from the man from hilltop back to you. “why don’t you just take a seat, honey? we’ll be done soon.”

you shake your head. “i’m not trying to stay here any longer than i have to. i need this sorted out now.”

“if you wanna talk, doll, you’ll have to wait your turn. i’m talking to gregory right now.”

“i don’t even want to talk to you.”

he exhales flippantly. “then why are you here? interrupting my important meeting.”

“i came for my shotgun.”

negan chuckles, crossing his arms. “you think you’re gettin’ that thing back? after the mood you’ve been stirring up here?”

you do your best to ignore the way he’s laughing and dismissing you or how he’s manspreading all over the chair he’s parked in.

“i need my stuff now. i’m leaving tonight.”

it’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room. you can see negan’s jaw tighten in real time, and the room stiffens. waiting for a reaction is half the angst but you don’t have time for it. don’t even want to defend your decision, especially in front of everyone here.

“out!”

chair legs scrape against the ground as some of negan’s senior partners in psychopathy begin to egress.

gregory is just looking flabbergasted. “but we had a meeting?”

“everyone, out. now!”

all it takes is a “negan doesn’t like to repeat himself” and dwight is shuffling gregory out of the room, simon taking up the rear.

“see you soon, hun’,” he taunts to you.

you don’t have enough time to process his words because he’s shutting the door behind you and probably mentally rescheduling this meeting. you could care less.

“enough, negan smith.” he blinks at the full name callout. “i want my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair. you won’t have to worry about me.”

negan’s off his feet again and sitting on top of the table now. he points to the chair next to the head. “sit.”

“i don’t want to sit.” you insist. “i already told you, i don’t want to talk, i want to go.”

“yeah, well we’re gonna talk first, so sit your ass down.”

you don’t want to spend anymore time in this nutjob factory than you have to but you want your shotgun back. so you walk across the room and you stand at the chair.

“what do you have to say to me?” you inquire.

“god, look at you!”

you roll your eyes.

“a few weeks after getting your life saved, getting your needs taken care of and you’re ready to go back to that?”

“i don’t want to be at your constant mercy.” you say plainly. “not that you can really call it mercy.”

with every retort from him being a laugh, your patience is growing thin. he snickers upon seeing your frown. “so, you want to take your chances out there instead of taking a little time to let me help figure out your problem?”

you throw up your hands. “figure out my problem? i came to you to help figure out my problem and you said to just deal with it. to ‘adjust’. well, i can’t. i can’t live like this. it’s not humane.”

“yeah, and it’s humane out there?”

“better than bitching in here.”

“well, i think i can help with that. won’t be getting your shotgun back.”

“oh, so you can’t help at all?” you snap.

he whistles. “never said that.” his eyes drop from your gaze down your torso to your thighs. he pats the table next to him. “come sit on the table.”

“no. i want to go. now.”

“alright then.”

“negan!”

you exclaim when he scootches off the table to scoop you up by your legs and middle and plop you down.

“let doctor negan see if he can help.”

“what are you-,”

“ah! look at that.”

“ah!”

the sudden sensation of a finger against your denim covered cunt has your face flushing and red. “been touched there in a while, honey?”

“just give me my shotgun,” you breathe, desperately trying with your eye contact to communicate that things aren’t going the way you expected.

“let me give you some reprieve, clear your head, and then we can see if you still want your shotgun.”

you shake your head as he starts pulling down your pants. “you think your wife would be okay with this?”

“she here?”

you curse yourself for giving him such an easy answer. you curse yourself for not doing anything other than pouting and wiggling once he’s at your waistband. you curse the little wet spot soaked though your underwear even more.

“god, i knew confrontation would get you wet.”

“so you planned this?”

the older man shakes his head, taking another moment to fully lock eyes with you, even as he towers over you on the table. “no, i’m thinking that we both walked into this.”

maybe you shouldn’t have walked in, you ponder as negan walks your undies down your thighs with his fingers and walks them right back to your dripping center. the hair you have down there is already slick, a damp curtain pried open by negan’s thick fingers.

“shit,” you rasp when a finger braves the pool of anticipation that’s only growing and delves further against your inner walls.

“want me stop there?” the fucker’s finger stills inside of you and the other dancing just above your clit comes to a halt.

you don’t respond, just lock eyes with negan and try to catch your breath. “that’s not fair,” you point out in a voice just above a whisper. “can’t stop now.”

“or can i?”

you shake your head. “don’t.”

maybe clearing the tension that’s been building like a twentieth century skyscraper inside of you will sort you out. or you could just say fuck it. the world’s ended anyways.

negan surely fucks a finger stationed inside of you back and forth. twisting and testing the waters before adding another. the extra finger curls inside you deliciously while he utilizes another to play around your clit.

the attention he’s paying to your once undisturbed nether regions is enough to have you creaking and moaning like an old door hinge and hinging forward into negan. he’s quick to let you fall forward into his arms. the sudden acceptance is all he needs to speed up.

“i know that feels good, honey.”

“mhmm,” you murmur into his shoulder.

there’s a spot inside of you that he’s massaging just right and another on your exterior; an x doesn’t need to mark the spot for him to rile up your clit. slow, lazy circles have you grinding against him on the table. how can you bemoan him when he’s about to pull the perfect release from you?

you know that because your breath is picking up again and you’re blubbering into his sturdy shoulder. those motions are telltale. mrs. smith’s memory hasn’t kept this man celibate.

the widower has his hand on your back again and the hand beneath you has its own task. the task at hand is executed with more skill than any boy you’d ever fooled around with in college or anyone who came after - not that there were many given how things had gone. you’d like to think that if shit hadn’t hit the fan, you would’ve settled down with someone like mr. smith but younger. this would have to do.

“clenchin’ so tight just around my fingers, baby. you always had the hots for me?”

you shake your head no truthfully. “this is the hots?”

“you feel hot down there baby, and my are you hot.” he lands the compliment with a kiss. you lean in, letting his tongue slip into your mouth because you’re too occupied with the build up brewing inside of you.

one glance down between you two and you see his fingers pumping. your heart rate jumps when you see the addition of another and now you’re being stretched out on his fingers on this table.

“god, you’re gorgeous. what a sweet little thing to have fallen into my lap.”

you curl further into his lap, legs now around him and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. all he has to do is curl his fingers and you’re yowling. “mhm, they’re deep.” you say, brain just observing.

“too deep?”

“no.”

thus, they plunge further. until the extra finger on the outside is stirring up more than your slick and heat courses through you. you shudder against negan but that doesn’t stop his routine. the shape of his fingers change inside of you and you’re bucking against him to feel each one.

“fuck, i’m gonna come,” you don’t want to say it out loud but you do anyways.

“on my fingers?” negan sniggers. “you poor thing. c’mon now, i know it must’ve been a while.” he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit. “just let go, honey, it’ll help.”

and it does.

letting your lizard brain take the lead is all you need for your mind to go blank. if even for a second, it releases the anxiety and the anger that’d consumed you. you pulse and clamp down around his digits until suddenly he’s not moving at all but you’re rotating your hips against him.

riding out such a feeling, you blink the tears out of your eyes and do a double take once you notice negan removing his fingers and starting on his belt.

“what’re you doing?” you question, pussy still pulsing with a mind of its own.

“if you thought that helped you relax, this will put you to sleep. no more sleeping pills for you, darlin’.”

“how did you know about that?”

“doctor carson doesn’t keep secrets from me. he didn’t need to tell me you weren’t adjusting well either.” negan states matter-of-factly, then dropping his blue plaid boxers.

you’re not sure how you’re going to adjust to the sight you’re met with. the cock in front of you is larger than any you’ve ever seen before. if negan’s fingers had you losing it, this thing will ruin you.

“i don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you admit when his hands land on your hips.

the distance between your needy bare entrance and his thick dick is only inches now. you shudder at the longing that’s whipping you and your thoughts around. you moan when he slides his hard, veiny cock against your entrance, slapping it against you once for good measure.

“nope, you’re tougher than you think.”

you meet his eyes again as if to question him. sure, he feels good against you but this is next level. better than fiction but what would happen after you both got your orgasms out of the way?

there’s no time for you to speculate because his lips are on yours again and you feel him lining himself up against you. “you want me to fuck all those fears out of your head, honey? you wanna feel good?”

how can you say no to that?

one nod of your head and his tip is teasing you. it takes you telling him, “please, put it in. i want it,” and then he’s plunging inside.

your face scrunches as a little burn becomes prominent from his size, but he kisses the lines away from your face. your temple, your nose, your lips, your cheek, he’s kissing you, saying, “good girl. you’re doing fantastic.”

you just eat up the praise and look down to see your pussy devouring him whole. the first two or three inches were a struggle just from lack of use but your lack of pleasure - the near sexual deprivation you’d experienced since shit hit the fan - overcomes it, and is pleasantly fulfilled.

in and out of you, negan works his hips and you can’t be happier. could a man you’d branded a psycho just minutes before be so adept at addressing your pleasure?

seems like it.

“god, you fuck well for a gym teacher.”

negan won’t let the snide comment slide so he wraps up his tour of purple rain against your collarbone to simper at you. “yeah, and for a frigid bitch, this pussy is hot and ready.”

“maybe i’m one of those dumb girls who’s attracted to psychos and serial killers?” you ponder playfully and wrap your arms negan’s neck to pull him in closer.

“oh, i’m gonna fuck you dumb, honey, don’t worry.” and with a roll of his hips, you have no reason to worry he won’t live up to his words.

you whine when he suddenly rams into you. his girth juts along your tight, inner walls. you meet his gaze again and just looking at his smug face has you tightening around him.

“god, baby, did you just fuckin’ squeeze me?”

“can you adjust?”

he grunts. “can you?”

you don’t have time to ask what you could possibly have to adapt to next because negan’s turning you into your stomach onto the table, tossing his leather jacket down for you to bury your face into. his absence from between your thighs brings on another whine but one moment of motion and now you feel him flush against your back, filling you to the brink with his cock.

“yeah, bet that brain can’t even think about an escape plan with that dumb little pussy stuffed so full. you gonna’ be able to walk tomorrow, honey?” he asks you tenderly as if he’s not on the verge of taking out your cervix.

“ne-negan! sto-,”

“-stop what?” he gyrates his hips nice and slow into you, dragging on the sensitive insides of your poor, overstimulated little cunt. “stop fucking you? because the way your pussy is clampin’ down, i don’t even know how i’m backing out of here baby.”

“don’t!” you beg.

“what?” he leans down to take your chin in his hands and see the angsty, pleasure induced tear starting to roll down your cheek. “god, you even look pretty when you cry. fuckin’ face like that.”

hips are stammering and negan’s words burn straight through to your core. he moans like a motherfucker when he feels the squeeze of your clingy little core on him. haywire all of this had gone, and now your climax is taking you over the edge.

“negan, don’t stop. don’t stop. don’t be an asshole,” you’re pleading.

he’s back to spearing you on his cock, leveraging your hips and throwing his head back. “don’t think i could, baby. not with a pussy this fucking fantastic.”

the praise is what does you in for the second time. any thought of undead nurses or public floggings leaves your brain and all you’re left with is the molten hot pleasure exploding inside of you. negan’s hand drifts down to your clit to have you absolutely crushing his cock.

“god, doll, you’re fuckin’ tight. so fuckin’ hot when you come like that. gonna have me doing a fuckin’ one and done for now.”

the huskiness of his voice and the twitch of him against your walls only eggs you on. your eyes are shut tight but you he’s all you can imagine. head on top of his jacket, you breathe in his scent, musky with a hint of the same cologne he wore back at school, and you’re creaming around him.

“fuck, doll!”

and he’s shooting his cream inside of you. the warmth fills you up and you no longer have the energy to move. any gyration of your hips has halted. a few more thrusts and he’s in the same boat. he collapses atop you for just a moment before pulling out and padding towards the table against the wall laden with napkins and refreshments that were supposed to be for the meeting.

you don’t turn your head but you can hear him grabbing some paper towels off the roll and clutching some other things.

“just gonna wipe between your legs,” he instructs and you let him.

your forehead against the table and those pretty eyes squeezed shut has negan rethinking a thing or two. suddenly he’s regretting not fucking you like the sweet thing you are. you deserved better than a table - at least his soft, king sized mattress if not a cloud.

once he finishes, he pats your back and nudges you up where he’s waiting with a water bottle - already open with the cap off. you accept with no issue and gulp the mini-sized bottle down easily.

“listen, why don’t you have dinner with the girls and i tonight? i’m not gonna give you your shotgun back just yet, but might change your mind about some things.”

[mydearesthrry]

lover, you should’ve come over - h.s.

a/n: part 2 to casual. read here! also, this is lowkey not great cause casual wasnt supposed to be a 2 parter. but bc i love u i did it. be grateful. enjoy my babies!!!! song: lover, you should’ve come over by jeff buckley

warnings: angst, happy-ISH ending

pairing: loser doormat!y/n x harry styles

— MARCH

harry: hi princess, i really miss you.

harry: i haven’t seen you since two fridays ago, where’ve you gone?

harry: text me back, please baby.

y/n: safe and alive

y/n: and i already told you, u don’t need to worry abt me

y/n: im fine

harry: i’m coming over.

y/n: har, please don’t. it’s really okay.

harry: not to me.

setting her phone down with a sigh, y/n scrubbed her hands up and down her face as she felt the beginning of a headache begin to brew at the thought of having to see harry.

after the conversation they’d had two weeks ago, harry hadn’t come over, and she hadn’t made the effort to ask him to. she reckoned that if she pulled back slowly, he wouldn’t notice.

she curses herself now for thinking that. of course he’d notice. because he’s harry.

she didn't want to have to talk about how she felt, because it meant admitting that she loved him. and she knew that wouldn't exactly fare well for her.

trying her hardest to make time pass by as slow as possible, she stepped into her bathroom, starting a bubble bath. if this was what she was going to have to deal with tonight, she might as well be comfy. harry can deal with sitting on the floor.

“princess?” she heard him call. her eyes squeezed shut as she braced herself, knowing that even seeing his face was going to viscerally affect her.

“i’m in here,” she called back, quieter than he was initially. “hi.”

“you look pretty,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. an eye roll from y/n had him squatting down in front of her, face inches from hers. “wanna give me a kiss?”

“no, not really.” she said plainly, sinking further deeper into the water, creating distance between them. harry couldn’t see her body as it was completely concealed by the mountains of foamy bubbles.

“ouch, princess, i don’t see you f’two weeks and this is what i get? even drove over here 5 over the limit jus’ t’see you.” harry didn’t want to admit that her rejection had felt like a gunshot wound to the heart, but he’d accepted it anyway so as to not make her uncomfortable. he knew she was upset and needed to fix it. he just didn’t know why.

“i’m sure you’ve gotten plenty kisses from claire the past two weeks, hm?” she mumbled pettily, shifting her glare to the faucet in front of her.

“so that’s what this is about.”

“what’s this?” she didn't think he actually noticed.

“you being all bratty, not talking t’me, s’hurting m’feelings, my love.”

harry was surprised to hear a laugh emit from her throat. “hurting your feelings… i’m hurting your feelings? that’s rich, really, harry. even for you.”

“what?”

“how do you not know that you’re making me miserable?” she whispered defeatedly and the dam broke. silent tears began to run down her cheeks, and she knew she couldn’t blame it on being sweat from the heated water. not when harry reached out to wipe them away with his calloused thumbs.

“baby- i- what?” he blubbered, shifting onto his knees to have an advantage of being closer to the tub. “what do you mean i’m making you miserable?”

“because you like playing this game with me, harry. its just so fucked up. you keep me around, kiss me, fuck me, and then treat me like i’m just one of your fucking lads, like you don’t really care. you get possessive when i talk to other guys at events, but if i get upset that you’re literally fucking another girl, i’m being sensitive, and ‘i should know by now that we aren’t exclusive.’ it feels like you don’t even want me. someone who claims to love me wouldn’t do this to me.”

a pause, a sniffle.

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, h.”

the room was eerily silent. harry’s face had gone stoic and pale. y/n sat there quietly, breath hitching with every sob she tried to stifle.

“‘m sorry,” he started.

“i’m sure you are.”

“how do i fix it?”

“i… i don’t know if you can.” she whispered honestly.

no words were shared between the two for minutes that felt stretched into hours. her fingers and toes had gotten pruny, the bubbles beginning to dissolve. she needed to get out— but she didn’t want harry to see her at her most vulnerable.

“can you please wait for me in my room?” she murmured, reaching over the lip of the tub for her towel that lay on the floor, sliding it closer to the tub.

“princess,” he said in near disbelief.

“please don’t call me that. can you please wait for me in my room?” she said ruefully, catching his eyes so he knew she was serious. she knows he would never purposely disrespect her boundaries.

harry shifted uncomfortably at y/n asking him to stop calling her ‘princess’, the name he’d crowned her with since the beginning. “erm, yeah. sorry.”

walking out of the bathroom, harry collapsed onto her bed, eyes brimming with tears as he tried to control his sporadic breathing. why did he do this to her?

“hi,” y/n said, shuffling out the bathroom a few minutes later with her hair in a small pink towel. she looked significantly calmer, more put together. “let’s talk.”

“i’m sorry-“

“no, me first, you listen,” she stated, watching as harry nodded, not caring that she’d cut him off.

“i love you. it’s not a secret that i love you, and i love you in more ways than one. i love everything about you, how kind you are, how gentle. but you aren’t really,” she paused, not knowing how to explain herself. “you aren’t really nice to me.”

"what do you mean?" he murmured, head cast downward. he reminded her of a wounded puppy. it was his fault, but she couldn't help but feel a little bad.

"i... i don't know how to put this without being the bad guy, but you're really manipulative to me. texting me when it's convenient for you, coming over when its convenient for you, all of it, harry. it's manipulative, and i don't know how to make you understand. i couldn't do it to you, even if i tried."

"why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

"i tried. every time i tried talking about it with you, you'd shut me up with a kiss, feeding me a line, something. it was always something." she explained, a sympathetic, dulcet smile on her face.

"i didn't mean to hurt you, y/n."

she nods understandingly. she knows that he's a good person at his core. she knows his heart. "i know you didn't mean to, but you did."

"if- if it helps, and i don't know if it's gonna," harry begins, before pausing as his throat began to squeeze, his nose tingling with the onslaught of tears. "i always wanted it to be you."

are you kidding me? y/n thought, taking a deep breath to keep her composure. “if you wanted to be with me, why didn’t you just come over?”

“i don’t know what you wanted. if you still wanted me, or if you wanted to end things… i… i didn’t know. 'm sorry, baby, i'm really sorry, fuck, i really, really am. y've got t'believe me, i didn't mean to hurt yo-” he stumbles over his words, breath catching as he tries to explain himself. y/n can see the panic begin to coat his green eyes, and with throwing all logic out the window, she climbs onto his lap, holding his face in her hands.

"i know you didn't, harry, i know. that's why i'm telling you now, okay? i'm trying to help you. i want to fix this, but you need to understand how i feel too, okay?" she nods, running her thumbs up and down his cheekbones, the tips of his lashes kissing her fingertips.

“i- i can’t lose you, i can’t,” he gasped through tears, shaking his head side to side. “i’m sorry baby, i’m so, so sorry.”

“harry. look at me.” she demanded, holding his face tightly so he couldn’t move. his eyes slowly casted to her face, noting how her eyes had began to gloss over again, nose reddening with emotion. “i know you didn’t mean to hurt me. i’m not that upset anymore. you won’t lose me, but you need to see my point of view.”

“and i do— i really do, i swear. angel, i promise i see you and i hear you, i just- fuck- i don’t know how to make it better.”

“you acknowledging it makes it better. you apologizing makes it better.”

“it couldn’t possibly be enough. i- y/n, i hurt you. i made you cry, and i made you inferior. i promised myself that you would be the one person i wouldn’t ever hurt. you’re too good t’me, you’re so perfect.”

a soft smile played on y/n’s lips. “its okay, h. i forgive you.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i do. but, i don’t think i can do this with you anymore.”

“do what?”

“this, the friends with benefits agreement. it’s too hurtful for me, and if i can’t have you as a lover, i don’t think i can have you at all.”

“what? what do you mean by that?”

“i need time, h. i need space, and i need room to breathe and think. if i see you, i worry i’ll make rash decisions that’ll hurt me in the end.” she sighed, climbing off his lap as she made her decision. “if i can’t love you in the way i know you deserve, i don’t know if i can give you love at all.”

“why?”

“because i don’t know how to love you without it being all consuming.”

“why don’t you let it? i still want you, y/n. i just told you that.”

“but i can’t risk getting hurt again, harry. not by you.”

“so that’s it? i can’t be your friend, i can’t be your lover?”

she sighed, clenching her teeth before swallowing thickly. “i can’t be the reason you didn’t find the love of your life.”

a pause. bated breaths. “what if its you?”

a defeated chuckle. “it can’t be. no matter how much you want it to.”

“why won’t you give us a chance!”

“how can i believe that it won’t be different than last time?!” she screamed, finally at her wits end. standing from the bed, she stood at the foot with clenched fists. “i think you should leave.”

“what? no, baby, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you.”

“please leave, harry. i just need time to think, and i can’t do that if you’re here.” she pleaded. watching harry step up from her bed, she placed a hand over her mouth and followed him out the door.

“i love you, but it’s ruining my life.”

“promise me you’ll call when you’ve had time to think. promise me that you’ll call when you need me again. please, promise me you’ll call me if you want me here. i will come to you, no matter where i am.”

“i know you will, harry. i know. and i will. i promise to call you when i’m ready.”

“i love you, okay?”

“i know. goodbye, harry.”

— JUNE

“hello?” y/n said into the speaker of her phone.

“hi, princess. i’ll be there in 20, okay? i’ve missed you.”

[ddejavvu]

for mvm, aaron doing a cognitive interview to reader, who has really bad memory (like she cant remember what she had for breakfast that morning and it's 12 pm)

"I'm not going to be very helpful," You warn the agent in front of you, correcting yourself when you realize you sound like you're resisting, "Uh, not like- I mean, I'll try, but my memory is really bad."

His face softens from where it had been bordering on stern, and he smiles kindly, "Don't worry about that. You might be surprised how much you can remember if you trust yourself."

You're fairly certain you trust yourself every day, but it doesn't mean you can remember much of anything. You blink at him, unconvinced, and he dims the lights in the room.

"Close your eyes," He instructs, "And try to think about where you were yesterday morning at 11AM."

That's... an issue. You'd been at work, sure, because this whole thing is about a man who'd put six bullet holes in your customers, but you have absolutely no idea what you were doing, or where you were standing. You let yourself think about standing at the cash register, hoping that something else will come back to you if you just squeeze your eyes tightly enough.

"What were you wearing?" He asks, and your brows furrow.

"I dunno."

"Think. Think about the clothes that you put on yesterday, what were they? Look down at yourself, what are you wearing?"

You're sure it's an exercise in memory, but the problem is, you're particularly weak in that area. You know it doesn't really matter what you were wearing, but you can't even remember that, so it's hard to hope that you'll ever be able to help him.

"Agent Hotchner?" You hum worriedly, and when he responds, you admit, "I don't even know what I'm wearing today."

There's a beat of silence, and it stretches just longer than you'd like it to, then he decides" "Let's try a different approach. What was it like directly after the shooting started? Take yourself back to when you heard the first gunshot; tell me about it, what did you do? What did you hear, what did you see?"

You heard a gunshot. You saw the backs of your eyelids.

"Agent Hotchner," You inhale sharply, eyes flying open and muscles tensing, "I'm sorry. I just- can't. I'm not the kind of person that these things work on," You stumble to your feet, but he catches your hands, and pulls you back down to your chair.

"Trust yourself," He repeats, voice smooth and easing your nerves, "You saw the entire thing. And your brain is more capable than you give it credit for. Just try one more time, that's all I'm asking."

You sit back down again, if only for the comforting warmth of Agent Hotchner's hands on your own after your the past 24 hours left you sufficiently rattled.

"Close your eyes," He reminds you, leaving his hands over your own, squeezing gently, "Okay. You're at work. It's 11:14 AM, and you're behind the counter. That's where they found you. Do you remember the customer you're serving?"

Your initial instinct is to say no, but your hands are still firmly anchored by his own, and you let yourself relax into them.

"Um," You try, "I think they were buying- something glass. Because it broke when I ducked behind the counter."

"Good. You have cuts on your hands," Agent Hotchner reminds you, "What were they buying that was made out of glass?"

You see a flash of purple lodged into your finger, "A vase. It was- a vase, for flowers. She was buying it for her daughter. As a wedding gift."

Another encouraging squeeze to your hands, "Good. Now, you hear the gunshots. Do you drop to the ground immediately, or do you look around?"

"I dropped- no, I- I froze for a second. And looked around."

"Did you see him?"

"The- what, the shooter?"

"The shooter," Agent Hotchner confirms, your hands secure in his hold, "Did you see the shooter?"

"I don't remember."

"Think."

"I don't- I don't remember!"

"Yes you do. You remember, you looked around, did you see him?"

"I don't know," You feel like sobbing, your chest tight, "Agent Hotchner, I don't know. Please-" You try pulling your hands away, uncomfortable with the pressure on your lungs as you recount the most traumatic experience of your life mere hours after it had transpired, "I can't!"

"You can," Agent Hotchner's voice rises with your own, driving an unstoppable force against your immovable object, gripping your hands like a vice, "Did you see him?"

"Yes!" You wail, and the weight on your chest evaporates. "Yes. I did. He was- he was white, and I don't know how... tall, but he was- he was white. And he was wearing black."

"All black?"

"Yeah. No- uh, grey pants. Black shirt."

"We have a lineup ready," Agent Hotchner informs you, standing and rounding the table without ever letting go of your trembling hands. "Let's go now, while the memory's fresh."

"You want me to see him?" You verify, cowed by the thought, "Like- I have to go in there, and- look at him?"

"He might be there, he might not." Agent Hotchner squeezes your hands again, the pressure soothing despite it's strength, "But I will be. Will you look at the lineup?"

He watches you with hopeful eyes, dark and kind despite having raised his voice only moments ago. You marvel at how his harsh tone had brought back the hazy reminder of the shooter's own, how they'd strung together like beads trailing one after the other in your mind.

"If you're there," You conclude in a shaky voice, "I'll go."

"You'll be safe with me," He promises, and though there's no smile on his face, you think that his intense gaze might calm your nerves more than a smile ever could. He's not being nice to you, he's being honest with you, and you believe him: you're safe with him.

[sundrop-writes]

hiya! Might be a bit broad of a request but could I get headcanons with jj x autistic female reader ?

Broad in the sense if I could get hcs of her reacting to reader with autism, how she helps reader with overstimulation and struggling with social cues and noise. If you wanna throw in smut hcs (jj being the dom) i’m also fine with that!

Basically anything with jj and autistic female reader, thanks!

I love this request so much!!! If you want smut/smutty hcs with JJ and autistic reader, definitely feel free to send in a separate request - I will come back for that in another post. For now, I hope you enjoy this!!

Requests are currently - OPEN.

Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader (Headcanons)

(Warnings: typical CM themes, the reader is described as touch avoidant (with some exceptions); mentions of molestation and murder (related to a case, mentioned in passing); mentions of blood, mentions of someone being shot in the reader's presence. Idk, I don't think there's anything else. Not proofread.)

JJ was raised around everything (neuro)typical, so when she meets you, she doesn't quite get you. Not at first.

You are one of the smartest people on the team - that is why you're there. Your ability to pick up on patterns and bits of detail that others don't see is incredible, and your brain holds mass amounts of obscure information that she could never even dream of knowing.

But you are quirky. More than quirky.

You have difficulty making eye contact, you freak out if someone even motions toward touching you unexpectedly, you have very odd, specific little rituals with your snacks and meals (which JJ does come to find endearing over time) - you go from talking at incredibly fast speeds, blabbering out information to being silent and stoic for long periods of time.

When she finds out that you have autism, she is a bit surprised. She is one of those people who thinks that autism is a disorder related to school aged boys - but you explain to her how it affects your life. How it makes it difficult for you to relate to people, form close friendships, how it's difficult for you to focus on larger 'important' things when smaller details are bothering you.

(It's one of the reasons you're so good at your job - but it also makes it hard to focus on people's words if their shirt is wrinkled and it's distracting you.)

You act cold toward most people on the team, and it's one random day that JJ finally starts to figure you out. A day that you finally warm up to her.

You were helping Morgan escort a suspect out of the police station, to a squad car where he would be driven to jail to be processed. He had confessed to molesting and killing eight boys after being caught with a ninth, and when the father of one of the boys heard the BAU had arrested someone, he came to the police station with a gun.

When the suspect was shot, you were covered in his blood, and in horrible shock from hearing such a loud bang right beside your ear - from feeling the sudden dead weight drop in your arms.

You ran back into the station screaming, and JJ followed her instinct - followed you into the women's washroom, wanting to see if you had been hurt. She was surprised to see you pacing back and forth in front of the sinks, muttering something under your breath.

"L/N." She called out your name, trying to get your attention. "Y/N? Y/N? Hey? Are you hurt?"

You didn't look up, not for a second. But your muttering became louder. And it became more clear what you were saying.

"My pen, my pen, I dropped my pen..."

JJ had no clue why you were so concerned about a pen when you were covered in someone else's blood, your ears likely still ringing from the gunshot - but she knew that you had a pen-clicking habit. It was something that often annoyed Reid and Morgan - but from what she had observed, you did your best work when your thumb was twiddling, clicking the end of your pen insistently. It meant your brain was whirring hard, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

JJ reached into the breast pocket of her blazer, and took out a pen that clicked on the end.

"Here." She offered it out to you. "You - you can borrow my pen." She said shyly, hoping it would help you calm down.

You extended out a shaking hand, and took the pen, and then began to click it harshly with your thumb. You gripped it so furiously, the skin around your knuckles so tight - but after a moment, you let out a tight breath. And then, for the first time since she had known you - you looked JJ in the eye.

"Thank you." You murmured, your voice ripe with tears.

"Keep the pen." JJ told you, feeling like it was a small consolation if it helped you calm down this much.

You reached up, petting a shaking hand over your face, and pulled back in disgust when you felt the sticky blood.

"Let me help you clean up." JJ said, grabbing some paper towels out of the dispenser and wetting them in the sink.

It was the first time you had ever let her touch you - you clicked the pen the whole time, and from then on, that sound became less of an annoyance and more of a comfort to her.

That was the day she realised one incredibly important thing:

To you, small things matter on such a big scale.

Coffee in your favourite mug instead of a random one she found in the back of the cupboard - that gets a smile out of you. Scones with blueberries instead of raisins - raisins get a shrug at best, blueberries get a giggle and a big 'thank you!'. Organising your files in alphabetical order instead of by date.

You and JJ became close after that day.

She wasn't a profiler, not in training, but she learned to read you like a book.

She knew that you bouncing your knee aggressively meant that you were becoming overstimulated - things in the room too loud, the florescents too bright, the day too overwhelming.

When this happened, she would take you outside for a break - often siting that she herself needed some air and she simply wanted your company. She knew you didn't like to be outwardly babied (who does?), but she also knew that you had a hard time self regulating. You had a hard time deciding when to take yourself out for a break, and if you didn't have one, then you would become irritable, have a hard time focusing, and hardly get any work done.

She also picked up on the fact that you just plain didn't get sarcasm.

Before, she thought you were being cool, or aloof. When someone said something sarcastic and you didn't understand, she thought that you were pretending not to get it in order to snub them or make a joke out of the whole thing.

But during one of your many conversations, you told her that you absolutely didn't understand sarcasm - you didn't get when someone was using a sarcastic tone, and you often took everything people said in its most literal interpretation.

So you and JJ developed a wonderful, silent system - if someone said something and you didn't understand if it was sarcasm right off the bat, you looked to her, and she would nod at you if they were being sarcastic, or shake her head if they were being literal. It was something people on the team picked up on, but nobody said anything about it - they just enjoyed the way you bonded with her, and how your quirky habits were spreading like a delightful little plague.

JJ knew that your life wasn't easy, living with autism, but she always tried to make it a bit easier. Because you were worth it.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Beggin’

(Broadchurch) Alec Hardy x Reader

Synopsis: Alec has no concept of time and barges in Y/N’s house to investigate. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, face riding/sitting, oral sex (f receiving), slight praise, no beta we die like his heart

She'd just come out of the shower, hair up in a half hearted bun. Y/N was exhausted, the current case was on her mind. A murder, that was evident. The victim was an old woman in her home, a single gunshot to the chest and her house ransacked. But it didn't look right.

As she changed into some comfy short shorts and an oversized Elvis Presley t-shirt, she visualized the scene in her head. It just wasn't right. She remembered a little purple jewelry box up near the dresser, and it didn't appear to be opened. She made a mental note to check that out, along with the neighbors alibi and how sound could transfer in a duplex.

Of course she knew when she agreed to be a Detective Sergeant that it was going to be time consuming, that this career would become you to an extent. And she wanted that. After she accidentally stumbled into this career and saw her first scene, she knew that was what she wanted with her life. But she hadn't realized that that would mean when she does even the most basic functions, her brain would be so wholly preoccupied. She took her hair out, brushed her teeth, pulled the covers down then went to turn out the lights before climbing into them. And all throughout it, she was speculating about silencers and times of death.

Her head had barely hit the pillow before she heard a banging at her front door. She laid there for a moment, contemplating her options. It was either some tragedy has happened or some idiot come to hurt her. And quite frankly she knew she could hold her own. Y/N wasn't a fool, she wasn't going to go answer it without precaution. She quickly went and retrieved a bread knife from the kitchen before going to the door.

The knife was in position when she opened it. Instead of finding some craved criminal, or even some sobbing family member, she found her boyfriend/boss with a box of papers.

"Alec? It's one in the morning."

His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. He looked tired, but he did always look just a little tired. His hair was messed up and his beard just a touch scruffy.

"I don't trust Anderson."

"What?" She asked. He didn't answer as he walked into her house and deposited the box of files on her kitchen table. She didn't mind Alec coming over, hell she loved the chance to see him, but this was all a little unprompted for her.

"Y/N, didya get anything on Imogen Walker? I don't like her. I also don't like this bloke, who does he think he is? Fucking hell," Alec started pulling stuff out to work on.

Y/N wanted to protest, but she also knew that she wasn't going to get much sleep even if she tried. This was at least productive and she got to spend time with him. She grabbed a blanket from the living room, wrapped it around herself, and sat down at the table.

"Imogen has a few misdemeanors but nothing of this caliber, nothing that would suggest murder." She said, "As for Gary, he did have a stay in the hospital back in his twenties for mental illness. I requested the documents for the diagnosis and behavior during the stay but they probably won't come in until later today or tomorrow. I think you need to focus on her niece, her alibi is shaky at best."

If Y/N focused on DI Alec Hardy's face, she might have seen the shadow of a smile on his lips that he quickly hid with other possible motives and questions. He'd never say so, but he loved these moments. The times when he could share what he was truly passionate about with someone that he truly loved ... Those moments were the best. All he would need was Daisy cracking jokes in the corner for this moment to be complete.

It was long after the sun came up before Y/N finally decided to make some tea for the two of them. She told Alec who grumbled a one worded response she didn't bother to try and understand. Maybe it was Alec or the case, but she strangely wasn't tired. Her mind kept whirling with all the possibilities and she enjoyed the time with Alec.

"Y/N! Do you have the SOCO reports from the car in there?" Hardy called to her. "I need to call -"

He stopped, looking at her from above his glasses, his lips still perched out from his words that fell forgotten. She gave him a strange look, placing the two cuppas down on the table then passing him the SOCO report he'd wanted. Yet he still stared, didn't even bother to say a word. "Hardy?"

DI Alec Hardy was not a man of many words, but when he needed to use words he always had the right thing to say. Or at least he believed it to be the right thing to say. But now, in a moment when words would definitely be helpful, he had nothing. He just stared like a man gone wild. Y/N didn't even know what he was staring at, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. Which drew extra attention.

"Alec? What're you looking at?"

He seemed to snap out of it, shoving his glasses up his nose and glancing back down at the paper. Y/N didn't know what to make of it, but thought perhaps he was exhausted. She pulled the kitchen chair to her, putting a leg on either side so she could rest her chest on the back of it while she read. And yet again, she looked up to see his warm brown eyes trapped on her and her body.

"Alec?" He didn't answer. "Alec! What's going on?"

Alec adjusted in his seat and said calmly, "nothing."

"Bull."

"Nothing is wrong. Can we continue?"

She felt silly for a moment, maybe she was exaggerating. Then she propped a leg on the chair and she saw his eyes wander again. Okay enough was enough. "Alec, what the hell?"

"Y/N-"

"Oh ho, don't Y/N me to try and get out of answering my question. What's got you looking at me at all weird?"

A pink started to spread on his cheeks and ears, but he looked away. No way, she thought. There's no way 'shitface' just blushed. Yes they'd been dating and she knew he was more than that nickname, but sometimes the occasion calling for it. Like when was blushing early in the morning for no reason, and she'd never seen him blush unless they were making love. Oh. Oh. Her eyes widened, and she felt a little smile on her lips. She stood up slowly, watching the way he tried to fight his gaze from following after.

"Alec, anything you want to tell me?" Y/N went and sat down on the edge of the table in front of him. He swallowed.

"Don't laugh."

"Darling, I would never laugh."

He rolled his eyes and looked away, not having the strength to say it while looking at her. He swiped his glasses off and groaned. "I... those shorts. I really like those shorts."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was not quite the answer she was expecting. "The shorts?"

"Your thighs, they... I like seeing them."

Her mouth fell open in a little o, adjusting her legs slightly as though thinking about them meant she had to move them. He likes her thighs, enough to distract him from work. Alec saw this reaction and immediately flushed darker, "you think I'm stupid."

"Gosh, no, no, no not at all," she said, "I just didn't know."

He still seemed embarrassed. Alec grabbed his glasses and shoved them back on his face, going to grab his work again. But Y/N felt bad, she certainly hadn't meant it like that, she would never shame him for something in the bedroom. She just wanted to know. And she found it very sweet that he found her so attractive. It made her feel sexy.

With a gentle touch she made him set his paper down. He looked with wide eyes. Y/N moved with slow, deliberate movements so Alec could take the time to digest it all. She carefully climbed onto his chair until her thighs were straddling him in his seat, though she hovered above him. She could see his adam's apple bob up and down as she placed her weight on him, leaning forward to take his glasses off. They were so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. She smiled, "hi."

His large hands came to rest on her thighs almost instinctively, squeezing the flesh there. From under her, she could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against his pants. It made her rock her hips just slightly to meet it. He let out a hiss, grip tightening. She quite liked him holding her there, the way he ran his hands down the length of her thighs with a tight grip. He cherished them.

"Y/N..." he murmured, eyes half shut as he lifted a hand to cup her jaw. She leaned in and captured his lips with her own, exploring the kiss and grinding against his hips as he branded her with his touch. She always loved the feeling of his kisses, the way he fell into her touch like it was instinctual. His jaw was always delightfully scratchy and she loved to run her fingers along his beard.

When they broke and their foreheads fell against each other, each gasping for breath, he spoke softly. "Darling.. I have a request."

Alec didn't often ask for much in the bedroom. Y/N certainly wasn't trying to prevent him, he just tended to stay quiet. So she pressed a soft kiss to his scratchy beard and nodded for him to continue. He swallowed nervously before continuing, "I've this fantasy. I've only had it for you."

Alec got embarrassed sometimes when talking about sex. Oh sure, he was great during the act. But he always treated any fantasies or ideas as something stupid and silly. But Y/N didn't think that, she wanted to make it pleasurable for the both of them. If he was willing to do things for her, then she would be willing to do things for him. In a voice that came out far huskier than she intended, she said, "I want to hear it."

"I, I want you to sit on my face."

Her eyebrows shot up and she pulled away to look at him, to check that was what he wanted. His flush got darker and he tried to turn away, but she grabbed his face before he could. The corner of her mouth quirked up, "Alec Hardy, even in your fantasies you want to go down on me. Are you sure that's what you want?"

He nodded vigorously, his gaze intense. She nodded an affirmation and got off, offering a hand for him to take as she guided him into the bedroom. "Tell me where you want us."

Alec nodded. He began to take off his clothing, tossing them on the chair in the corner. Then he got onto the bed near the headboard and told you to strip as well. Here came the part he got excited about, even if excited for Alec meant a pair of wild eyebrows lifted high.

Now naked, Y/N went from the edge of the bed and crawled up to him, showing off her assets. He took a deep shaking breath. She situated herself so her cunt was right above Alec's head, thighs already shaking slightly but she was determined to stay above. Then she felt his hands grab at the back of her thighs, pulling her down.

"Alec!" She squealed, "I can't! What if I hurt you?"

"Hurt you?" He asked in an incredulous way, as though the thought was the furthest thing from his mind. "How could you hurt me?"

"My weight on you.."

He answered what he believed to be a silly question with a silly answer, and dragged her down squarely on his mouth. She laughed a little as she settled, but his hot tongue on her clit was enough to distract her to silence. Well, not silence, but certainly not laughter.

This was a sensation unlike any she'd had. Alec had gone down on her before and it was bloody fantastic, she always left panting and delirious with pleasure. But this seemed to open a whole new wave of sensations. He came into it with a crazed intensity, yearning to taste every part of her he could. His touch was everywhere, hot as it skimmed over her skin and seared her. His lips were plush as they parted to let his tongue slide along her folds, tasting her. That delightful beard was going to cause a rash tomorrow morning but she didn't care as she rocked her hips to meet his tongue's ministrations.

She tasted like sweat and sex and everything good in the world, if he could bottle it up he would. Though in the back of his mind he knew Y/N worried about crushing him with her weight, it was that sensation of being fully engulfed by her that he was so attracted to. Those burning thighs were right by his head, holding him there and clenching with each stroke of pleasure. He held onto them tightly, letting her know just how much he enjoyed it. It was better than just regular oral, it was deeper and intimate. One look up at her was enough to make him shudder and hold her tighter. She looked like a goddess, head thrown back with those raspy little moans pouring from her. Her breasts heaved on her chest, begging to be touched. If he died then and there, with the image of her above him, he'd die a very happy man.

Y/N gasped his name over and over, rolling her hips and meeting his expert tongue. He was everywhere, scorching all of her. Alec’s touch was making her dizzy with pleasure and if she wasn’t careful she’d never leave her spot here. That coil inside of her started to tighten, twisting as tingles were sent all throughout her body. She could feel her orgasm coming, tightening and tightening until with a sobbing gasp she came on Alec Hardy’s tongue.

He never stopped for one second, just lapping at her oversensitive clit until he could feel her coming down from her high. Then he adjusted, helping guide her down his body so he was sitting and she was straddling him. She melted against his chest, head in the crook between his shoulder and neck, breaths uneven.

“Oh my god,” she said finally.

Alec kissed her forehead and rubbed her back, “thank you, darling.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “you tell me all your fantasies, love, because holy fuck.”

Alec nodded, “duly noted.”

“Shut up,” she said, burying her face deeper into him with a smile.

[mariposa-drowned]

Abby x injured!reader fluff 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hello lovely! Thank you so much for being my first request! I'm sorry this took so long, I struggled with this one for a bit, and it was stuck in my drafts for longer than I'd like to admit. I know this isn't pure fluff, and I apologize for that, but I do have some period comfort/fluff in the works, so hopefully that makes up for this. I did my best to make this gender neutral aswell, so I hope I did okay:)

Warnings- hurt/comfort, small interaction with icky men, smidge of blood, bad and inaccurate medical descriptions, swearing, reader doesn't like taking medicine, that should be it but if I missed any lmk!

--🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤--

It was a pretty normal patrol day, you had been paired with Abby once again, you were convinced she was tugging some sort of strings to get paired up with you whenever you were out. But you werent complaining. Patrol was almost over, you just needed to check an abandoned convience store on the corner and then you could radio back to be picked up.

It seems that the seraphites had a different idea in mind about that. Before you could even register what was going on, you and Abby had been ambushed just as you were exiting the store. Bows and large rusty guns all pointed your way.

"Well, well look what we have here." one of the men on the front horse said. He looked to the others on horses and spoke again "What do you think men? Should we blow their brains out right here? Or have a little fun with these sinners?"

You looked to Abby, trying not to show the fear on your face and ultimatley failing, you reached to your hip for your gun before feeling Abbys hand covering yours, you looked to her with confusion evident on your face as Abby whispered to you.

"We're outnumbered, I radioed for backup when I heard them coming. Just stay calm for a minute." You trusted Abby with your entire life, so you slowly took your hand away from your hip, taking hold of Abbys hand instead.

You were snapped back to reality as one of the men got off his horse "I don't know, I think the little one would be nice, might take her back huh?" a murmur of agreement was heard from the other seraphites.

Abby gripped your hand harder, trying to gaurd you with her large frame.

"Don't fucking touch them."

"Oh protective one eh? I don't think you're in much of a position to have a say in this, do you?"

You heard a low growl come from Abby. You took a quick look around, trying to figure out what was taking the rest of patrol so long to come get you. Once you were distracted, you felt yourself being ripped away from Abby, the movment catching herself so off gaurd that her grip faultered. You let out a small yelp before your back was pressed against one of the men who had gotten of his horse. His hands digging into your wrist and hip where he held you. You could feel his hot breath on your neck trying to think.

Taking a deep breathe, you did what seemed most reasonable at the moment. You lifted your leg up and kicked backwards, hitting your captor right in the nuts. The man groaned, stumbling back as you tried to run forward back to Abby. You were a mere 5 feet away from her when you felt a searing pain in your leg. Dropping to the ground you let out a louder scream this time, the arrow doing deeper into your leg as you fell.

Abby screamed your name, quickly running to you as the men surrounding you started laughing. Their laughter was cut short though as you heard one of the WLF vehicles pull up, gunshots rang around you as bodies fell to the ground, Abby got close to you, sheilding you with her body. You couldnt help but start crying, you could feel the pain crawling up your leg as you tried to curl in closer to Abby, hoping she would take some of the pain away.

Once the gunshots ceased, you looked up with blurry eyes, seeing people rush towards you, medkit in hand. You could see mel come into view, a grimace on her face before she quickly hid it.

"We need to get them on the truck now, they need to go to the medwing, too much blood loss." Mel hurriedly spluttered out.

Abby nodded, she whispered a quick 'I'm sorry baby' before lifting you up bridal style, you yelled out in pain, a string of curses coming from your mouth as she carried you.

Abby laid you down on the truckbed sitting down next to you. Mel sat down by your leg, trying to asses the damage she got out a tourniquet. You looked to her knowing exactly what that was for and how much it would hurt. You tried to shuffle away, Abby quickly slid behind you, holding you still.

"no no no, Mel please, we really don't need to use that"

Mel gave you an apologetic look before starting to slip the tourniquet around your leg just above where the arrow stayed. You kept spluttering out pleas making pathetic attempts at kicking away, it got you nowhere. This was gonna hurt like a bitch. Mel leaned closer to Abby whispering a small "keep her still, it'll hurt worse if she's moving" Abby nodded at the request, still behind you she took both your arms to cross them over your chest, hugging you tight.

"you're alright angel, doin so good baby, so strong. Just need you to try and be still."

You looked up at her in question, still panicking when you felt the tourniquet start tightening. You screamed out, trying to wiggle out of Abby's iron grip despite her soft words.

You were so tired, and in so much pain, eventually your yelling stopped and you went slack in Abby's arms. She felt for your pulse, elevated, but still okay. She figured it was probably best for you to be unconscious right now anyways.

⁠●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●●●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●●●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●

You woke up feeling extremely groggy, like you were living in a cloud of fog. You tried to sit up, assessing your surroundings only to find you were in yours and Abby's shared space in the stadium. You were tucked into the bed, trapped in a cucoon of yours and Abby's blankets. Abby could see movement from the corner of her eye as she was tidying up the small kitchen.

"Hey my love how you feeling?" Abby walked over to you and sat on the edge of the bed, being cautious of your leg.

"Like I got shot with an arrow." You deadpanned, Abby laughed at your response "what happened? I remember passing out in the back of the truck."

Abby sighed "Well, once we got you back to the med-wing they took out the arrowhead but found that those asshole seraphites dipped it in some sort of natural poison found in plant roots. So they had to come up with a concoction of medicine to help your body process it, but they only had so much to spare. Long story short, you've been out for two days and the poison is likey still in your system and will be for the next few weeks. I've been checking on the wound and it does seem to be healing okay. We've both been given a month off and you're allowed to stay here with me as long as I look after you. Mel said she might still come by for checkups just to be safe though"

You kept your gaze on the blankets that surrounded you trying to process the information.

"I'm gonna be okay though right? We can still go out together?"

Abby could hear the tremble in your voice, she knew you were most likley overwelmed with the surge of information and the pain that you were in. She scooched in a bit closer to hold both sides of your head in her hands.

"You will be okay. You will heal overtime and I will help you in any way I can, we will do this together okay?"

You met Abbys eyes, you knew deep down that you would recover, and everything would eventually go back to normal, but you needed that reassurance. You put your hands over Abbys that currently resided on your face, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes focusing on her touch and how her smell had surrounded you, being redressed in one of her big shirts, her blankets mixed with yours all around.

You enjoyed the moment for several minutes before a sharp stinging pain radiated throughout your leg. Your face twisting into a grimace, Abby took notice of your expression and quickly pulled away from you, muttering under her breath 'be right back baby' you sat there as Abby went to go retrieve whatever. Taking a fistful of the blankets into your hand as you slunk down on the bed into a laying position you could feel the pain getting higher up your leg, letting out a small whimper in response. When she said that there would still be lingering poison she was not kidding at all.

Abbys footsteps neared the bed as she helped you back into a sitting position, her face contorting as she heard your small cries as the pain intesified, she placed her items on the side table and quickly positioned her frame behind yours.

"okay i have something here to help but its gonna taste like shit and burn like bad alcohol goin down okay?" You let out a small sob, Abby shushing you before speaking again "I know angel but it'll help lessen the pain, I have water right here for you afterwards, just need you to take one big gulp of it and you'll be all done." she held up a small bottle to your lips, you tried to take in a deep breathe to prepare yourself for the awful taste, but you would do whatever to stop the nausiating sensation in your leg.

You opened your mouth, Abby taking it as her signal to bring the bottle to your lips. You had to hold back a gag as you tasted the revolting medicine of sorts, squeezing your eyes shut you managed a full swallow before pushing back into Abby signaling yo her you were done. You reached around, searching for the water she had mentioned, wanting to rid the taste from your mouth.

Abby replaced the small bottle with a glass of water, bringing it to your lips and whispering soft praises into the air. You finished the whole glass noticing the pain in your leg had lowered back to a tolerable amount already.

"what the hell was that sin of a drink" Abby laughed at your comment, wrapping her arms around your torso

"Something that Mel and a few others downstairs put together as a morphine like substitute, but it has to be ingested orally unlike morphine which would require an IV. Does it feel any better?"

"I dont feel like tearing my leg off anymore so I guess so. Just aches on my upper leg now, I think I just wanna try and go back to sleep." you yawned through your last statement only proving your point more.

Abbys hand lowered down towards your injured leg as she started softly kneading the fat there trying to soothe the ache you mentioned "I'm fine with you going back to sleep but I need you to eat something first."

You whined at both the mention of eating something right after that horrible "medicine" and from the relief of Abbys hand on your thigh. Before you could protest Abby had shoved a protien bar in your hand. "Just this and I'll massage you til' you fall asleep"

You took the bar with a small grumble, knowing that her hand was currently working magic for your injured leg and you would probably start crying if she stopped. You quickly chomped it down, hearing a hum of approval from Abby. She repositioned you so you were laying on your good side leg, as she remained behind you. Her hands contined to rub on your leg, the other rested under you on your side, giving small squeezes of reasurance every now and then.

She contined her motions until she heard your breathing even out, your body fully relaxing into her as you slipped off into a dreamless state. Abby let herself doze off aswell after making sure you were okay.

Abby startled awake feeling small movements and whimpers of discomfort coming from you. Often times your dreams were riddled with nightmares but she knew that you were just uncomfortable from your body language. She maneuvered your body so you were laying on the matress flat on your back and started lightly kneading a bit further down your leg, trying to help rid your discomfort.

You settled down after a minute or two, waking Abby up a few more times during the night as she helped readjust your body, ultimately propping your leg up on a few pillows. She didn't know if it was doing much, but judging by how you slipped back into sleep so easily, she figured you were comfy enough.

Giving a final kiss on your forehead, she fell asleep with you, interlacing her hand with yours as she joined you in slumber.

[savannahsdeath]

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

♯infection

mdni please<3

summary: youre on a patrol with ellie🏌️

warnings: 18+!! blood, weapons, angst

writers note: it is very very bad but its sitting in my drafts for months so why not post it .. also the pic fits the story sm🥰🥰(me when i lie)

You and Ellie were patrolling together for a long time now, it was a part of your rutine.

Today wasn't different - you were exploring an abandoned house with your friend near.

Everything was going smoothly. Ellie kept a lookout while you searched for supplies, trying not to make a sound, while she did the same. You were both on edge, and you felt jumpy at every little noise. You were both quiet, careful, as to not alert any infected or scavengers that might have been hiding out in the house.

But then, everything changed. A noise, distant at first, quickly grew louder. You and Ellie exchanged nervous glances as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew closer. You had no time to think, the infected were already nearby and you didn't have a chance to react before one was on top of you.

The infected grabbed you, and before you could do anything, Ellie came out of her hiding and struck with her knife, slashing your opponent.

You grabbed the shotgun off the ground and fired at another one, the noise drawing the attention of most of the infected in the vicinity. You knew sound attracts them, but you were too surprised to defend yourself manually.

The infected recoiled instantly as your buckshot connected with it's chest. It's body hit the floor and lay motionless, smoke rising from the bullet hole.

You quickly aimed the shotgun at the other infected, which started to charge towards you. You waited for it to close the distance, and when it was within range, you pulled the trigger. The second bullet hit the infected square in the forehead, and it collapsed down.

You fired again, hitting another infected in the side with a shotgun blast. It stumbled back, wounded, as Ellie quickly finished it off with a brutal stab to the head with her switchblade. The sound of more footsteps drew your attention, and sure enough, more infected were coming. They must have heard the gunshot and were coming to investigate.

"What do we do?" Ellie asked, frantically looking for a way out. You didn't have much time to think or act.

You only managed to look around and mumble three simple words; "Run and hide."

Without any hesitation, you and Ellie ran as fast as you could, ducking and weaving between walls and furniture to try and lose the infected. As you ran, you could hear the shuffling footsteps following behind you and the infected growling at each other. You ran through another door and hid, quickly whispering to Ellie to remain completely silent.

The infected came through the door, and you could hear them grunting and listen carefully, trying to locate you. After what felt like an eternity, they left, and you began to relax.

You stayed put for a while, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. Ellie was still tense, the adrenaline from the encounter still coursing through her veins. She looked at you and you could tell she wanted to say something, but was afraid the slightest movement would give you away to the infected outside.

After a few minutes, you heard the sound of shuffling footsteps getting fainter and fainter, until they were completely gone. You were in the clear.

"Are you okay?" Ellie finally asked, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

You managed to nod, the fear and adrenaline still lingering. You noticed she was holding her arm, and it took a moment to realize that there was blood on the sleeve of her shirt.

"You're hurt!" You exclaimed.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with concern. "It's nothing." She said, trying to hide any pain or discomfort.

"Nonsense." You replied. "Let me take a look."

You gently lifted her sleeve up to examine the injury.

You saw that there was a nasty-looking cut on Ellie's arm, the blood slowly oozing out. She looked uncomfortable, but remained still. It was clear that she didn't want to make the situation worse by causing a fuss, but it also didn't seem like something minor.

"It looks pretty bad." You said, gently dabbing at the wound with a cloth. "We should get this bandaged as soon as possible."

Ellie winced as you put pressure on the wound, and you could see that the pain was growing worse as she tried to keep herself composed.

"Hey, hey... it's going to be okay." you said, trying to be as calming as possible. Ellie looked up at you, relief and gratitude in her eyes. You could tell this was stressing her out.

"Don't worry," you continued. "I'll have this bandaged up in no time." You took some materials and quickly patched up the wound, cleaning it and wrapping it tightly to restrict the bleeding.

Ellie looked relieved, "Thank you." she said. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"I don't plan on going anywhere." You smiled and looked around. "They're probably still near, we should wait some more time."

You kept looking around, trying to make sure there were no unexpected surprises around the corners. As you were keeping watch, you looked over at Ellie, who was observing you. There was a certain warmth and comfort in the way she was looking at you. It was a subtle gesture, but the feeling it invoked was anything but subtle. You got a strange sense that Ellie was feeling vulnerable, but was trying to hide it.

"What's that?" She pointed at blood on your sleeve, clearly worried.

You looked down at your messy shirt. "It must get dirty while I was patching you up." You smiled. "I'm fine."

Some time passed, you were joking with Ellie, hoping to distract her from the pain. It was safe for you to exit this building now but none of you even thought about it. It was quiet and you finally got to spend time with your crush friend alone, without other patrolling residents.

You looked at Ellie, who was looking at you too, with a level of concern and tenderness that hit you like a ton of bricks. She didn't know what was happening to you, but you knew that telling her would only make things more painful.

You hesitated but decided to be truthful with her, she was smart enough to figure things out on her own otherwise.

"Ellie..." you began. "There's something I need to tell you."

Ellie looked at you, concern etched on her face. She could probably tell by your tone alone there was something wrong.

You took a deep breath and continued. "One of them... must bit me— I didn't even notice at first too... I was— fuck, you know, a lot going on..."

Ellie's face twisted into one of shock and despair as she took in the information. She tried to process it all, but seemed to be stuck in denial.

"Are you- are you sure?" She asked, her voice faint.

You simply showed her your wound, not wanting to say it out loud. You knew it would be hard for her to accept, but you had to be honest with her.

"This can't be..." Ellie whispered, her face blank.

"I know." You said.

Ellie remained silent, it almost seemed like she was expecting some miracle to happen and for the infection to disappear.

"It's real." You tried to convince her. "and... irreversible. I'm not immune like you, I already feel, you know— not well."

Ellie continued to look at you with blank eyes, unable to process the severity of the situation. She was still in denial, hoping against hope you were wrong. But you weren't, and you knew the truth soon had to come.

You stuttered, trying to find the right words. "We don't have much time."

She looked at you, the weight of everything setting in on her. Fear, sadness, anger, frustration, all swirled in her eyes as she desperately tried to think of a solution. She knew there was no escape, but she couldn't accept that.

"We... We have to do something." She said, the desperation clear in her voice. "We can't just..."

"Ellie," you said, cutting her off. "We've been fighting for every second of our lives, hoping for survival against impossible odds. There's nothing more we can do... I- I don't want to turn, and I think you don't want me to either. There's one thing we can do." You handed her your gun, failing to hold back tears. "Shoot me, now, while I'm still a... human."

Ellie looked at the gun in her hand, frozen in shock. She couldn't believe what you were saying, and you could tell she was trying her best not to believe it herself. She was afraid, but knew in the back of her mind that you were right.

You tried to sound as comforting as possible. "I can't live with the knowledge that I'll end up hurting someone else, that I'll be just like... them."

Ellie looked at you once more, the water in her eyes slowly streaming down her face.

"I know what I'm asking for isn't easy but... I know you're strong." You wiped her tears off and without pulling your hands off of her cheeks you kissed her. "I love you. I regret not telling you earlier- and I probably shouldn't now. I just... couldn't die, taking this secret with me. But that's the best last words I could think of. I love you, Ellie." You took a step away, motioning her to do it.

You could tell she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, and was still trying to hold on to hope. But she knew, just as much as you did, that this was the best moment you two could ever have together. That this was it for you two.

"I love you too." She simply said, her voice quivering.

With that, she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. As time slowed to a crawl, you let out one final breath as the bullet ripped through your head and you finally fell to the ground, knowing that you were safe from the fate of the infected. The sun faded away and your vision slowly faded to black, the last thing you saw was Ellie's face, tears streaming down her face.

You weren't afraid of death, after all that you've seen, all that you had fought and lived through. No, you had no fear. There was only one thing on your mind.

"I love you, Ellie.

I love you too."

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Shoot To Kill

Daryl Dixon/RickSister!Reader

Era: Season 8; During Wraith

Warning: Violence, Negan bashing

Summary: Another Grimes takes matters into her own hands during the final battle.

“Save him.”

Despite the number of people in the field who had been watching the fight between the two leaders, there was nothing but silence, the only sounds that could be heard at that moment were the heavy breathing of Rick, and the footsteps of the new doctor as he moved towards the fallen Negan. Everyone was in shock, not only because it was over but by Rick’s demand. 

“No! No, he can’t! No, he killed Glen!” Maggie shouted, her cries echoing across the field as Michonne reached to stop her from advancing. “We have to end it! We have to make it right!”

No one else moved, those on their side watching silently while the defeated Saviors stood with their hands up, everyone listening to the Widow as she screamed. At least not until the sound of a gunshot rang out.

Rick spun around at the sound of the shot going off, thinking that perhaps Negan had had a hidden weapon on him, only to be shocked at what he saw. Standing a few feet away from the leather-clad Savior leader stood Rick’s own sister, her gun aimed at Negan. He knew immediately that she had been the one to fire, which she confirmed by firing off another round. 

Like the first bullet, it found its mark in Negan’s skull, his body spasming at the impact. Rick could see her hand tensing to shoot again but his hand on her arm stopped her from firing. “Y/N, stop. It’s over, he’s dead.”

She pulled her gaze away from the body in front of her, her eyes locking on his. “Good.”

Rick was about to say more when Y/N wrenched her arm from his grip and walked away toward Maggie and Daryl. Michonne looked at his sister in disbelief as she passed and then looked at him for direction. He just shook his head. He and Y/N would have words about what she did but now was not the time. 

*******

Hours later, Y/N found herself walking into the now-empty cell that Morgan had built. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, thoughts about the upcoming battle not allowing her to. Then once it was over, there were other things to do, like burying the fallen.  

Yet as tired as she was, Y/N would not go to bed. Not until Daryl got back from doing whatever he decided to do with Dwight. She just didn’t want to sleep in their bed without his arms around her, that had happened enough lately. 

As if her thoughts of him somehow made him appear, Y/N heard the familiar cadence of his footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, Daryl’s large form filled the doorway. “Tara said she saw ya come this way. What’re ya doing down here?”

“Trying it on for size?” Y/N replied, her voice rising at the end as she wasn’t sure. 

Daryl only huffed at her answer as he made his way in and sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, kissing the top of it before lacing his fingers with hers. “Rick ain’t gonna lock ya up.”

Y/N didn’t quite have the same faith in those words as Daryl seemed to. “Maggie said I would be welcome at Hilltop if I needed to. If it comes to me leaving…”

“Us,” Daryl corrected her. 

Squeezing his hand, Y/N went on. “I don’t know what my brother might do, but whatever it is, it is. I don’t regret killing Negan, not after he killed Abe, and Glen...”

With her free hand, Y/N reached up and brushed away Daryl’s shaggy bangs so she could see his blue eyes. Her fingers left his hair and trailed down his cheek, gently cupping his jaw. “And you. I couldn’t let him live after what he did to you.”

The archer leaned into her touch, his eyes meeting hers as she asked, “What about Dwight?’

Daryl seemed to hesitate a moment before answering. “Gone. Told’m not to come back unless he got a death wish. Told him to go look for her.” 

Y/N nodded. She honestly hadn’t known what he might do to the former Savior when they left. She understood either decision he would have made. Dwight had put him through hell, but he’d only been a puppet, doing Negan’s bidding to protect someone he cared about. It didn’t make what Dwight did any better, but she and Daryl couldn’t say that they wouldn’t have done something similar to protect the other one. 

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them as Y/N leaned her head on Daryl’s shoulder. She was about to say it was time to go home to bed when they heard the door to the street open and her brother’s boots could be heard on the stairs. Despite the fact that she trusted Rick with her life, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her body tense up. Time to face the music.

Rick’s gaze ran over her form then Daryl’s, taking in the scene before his eyes flicked back to her. She met his stare head-on, years of practice of him trying to boss her around using the big brother card. “Daryl, why don’t you head on home? I need to have a moment alone with my sister.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

The archer’s response caused her brother to break his gaze from her to look at his friend. “You think I can’t be trusted with her? That I would hurt Y/N?”

“Nah I don’t,” Daryl replied as he stood, dropping Y/N’s hand as he did so that he was eye-to-eye with Rick. “But ya surprised me once today, ain’t risking her if ya do it again.” 

Jumping up between the two most important men in her life, Y/N placed her hands on each of their chests. “Daryl, it’s fine. I’ll meet you at home in a bit.”

Daryl continued to glare at Rick before finally looking down at Y/N. He gave her a short nod before brushing his lips against her temple. “Ya ain’t out in an hour, I’m comin’ back.”

Rick took a step back to allow Daryl to pass through the door and out of the cell, the two staring at each other again until Daryl disappeared up the stairs. Once the siblings were alone, Rick sighed heavily as he ran his hand through his hair. “Do you know what you have done?”

“I did what you were supposed to do,” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes straight and not backing down. “What you should have done.”

“But I didn’t and you should have followed my lead. I had my reasons not to kill Negan.” Rick stated.

“I know you did, I know what Carl said in his letter to you. About finding a way to live peacefully with Negan. He said something similar in mine.” Y/N told him. “But that wish was never going to happen. It couldn’t.”

“It could have, we could have made it work. Michonne and I had a plan.” 

“That neither of you thought to talk to one of us about?” Y/N practically shouted. “What was the plan, Rick? To have the new doctor fix him up then tell Negan he had to behave?”

“No! We were going to put him in here,” Rick said with a wave of his hand to indicate he meant the cell they were standing in. “With guards. Make an example out of him.” 

“So you wanted to waste not just manpower to guard him but also food and water?” Y/N asked, not believing what her brother was saying. “Did you not think how locking up Negan would be dangerous? I mean, when has letting our enemies live ever worked out for us? Andrew, the Governor, and Gareth, they all came back at us and we lost more people.”

“He would be locked up, people always watching him.” 

“Who's to say that his people wouldn’t try to break him out? From what we know, they were living the good life under Negan. They would want that back, instead of being equal with everyone else.” 

“It wouldn’t have been like that. They would see our way was better and fall in. Or we’d make them leave.” Rick insisted. 

“Negan killed Abe, he killed Glenn! They tortured Daryl!”

“You think I’ve forgotten that?!”

“I don’t know, have you?” Y/N asked.

“I know who he killed and what he’s done, but Carl…”

“Was a sixteen-year-old boy. Granted, he had been through and seen way more than a kid his age should have ever seen but he was still a kid. I would have done anything for him, if I could have taken that bite instead of him I would have in a heartbeat,” Y/N confessed, the grief she had been holding off since Carl’s death suddenly rose. It became too much, and she leaned against the wall, trying hard not to let the tears fall.

Looking over she saw her brother’s eyes soften as he looked at her, taking in her words while she continued. “And yes, what I did wasn’t what he wanted, but it is what I did. What I did, Rick. Not you. I hope that alleviates any guilt you might feel at not carrying out your son’s wish.”

Rick looked at his sister and felt the anger he had been feeling at her dissipate at her declaration. He knew she had only done what they had all wanted to do, what he had sworn to Negan’s face that he would do that night of the lineup, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “What are you doing down here, anyway? Of all the places I’d thought to find you, the cell isn’t one of them.” 

Y/N shrugged. “Thought after what I did, it might be my new home.”

Rick’s brows shot up in surprise. “You thought I would lock you up.”

“No, not really. I don’t know. While I knew you wouldn’t be happy about my killing Negan, I thought you might be more upset that I did it in front of everyone. Go against your wishes as a leader.” Y/N explained. “Maybe it would be a good thing if I leave Alexandria for a little while. Go to Hilltop and help Maggie. She will be showing soon I’m sure and will want some extra hands. Daryl and I…”

Shaking his head, Rick interrupted her. “Daryl’s going to be needed somewhere else. I need him to take over at the Sanctuary, make repairs and get it up again.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“The people there are going to need someone in charge and I need it to be someone strong and who I trust.” 

“You can’t send him back to that hell, he suffered enough, Y/N begged. She wanted to tell Rick about the nightmares that Daryl had when he slept, or how the fact that he hated their room in complete darkness but she knew he would not want that. “He’ll go if you ask him but don’t ask that of him. Please.”

Rick sighed loudly and ran his hand over his face, “Y/N...”

“Send Carol, send Rosita, let the place burn for all I care,” She argued. “So many there were miserable, without the Saviors taking stuff from the other communities it couldn’t sustain itself.”

“Okay, okay. I see what you are saying.” Rick conceded. “I’ll talk to Maggie and Ezekiel, and get their thoughts on it.”   

“But no asking Daryl?”

“No. No, we’ll find someone else.” 

Unable to help herself, Y/N grabbed her brother in a hug, squeezing tightly. He hugged her back, and the two stayed like that for a few minutes before breaking apart, Rick nodding towards the exit. “Come on, I’m sure Daryl is wearing a hole-in-the-floor pacing while he waits for you.”

“Funny that you think he actually went all the way home to wait for me.” 

Rick was about to ask her what she meant as they reached the street when the small red light from the end of a cigarette out of the corner of his eye. Standing a couple of doors down, far enough to give them privacy but close enough to come when called, stood Daryl. She knew the archer would be waiting for her. His sister smirked up at him before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, big brother.”

Rick said his goodbye before she strolled off to the man waiting for her. Daryl nodded at him in acknowledgment before he focused on the woman in front of him as she took his outstretched hand. Rick watched his sister and the man he thought of as his brother walk away together before he turned toward his own home. Tomorrow was the first day of something new. 

*Note: I have an entire headcanon for Ricksister!Reader & Daryl and have thought of doing other one-shots with them. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading them. And if you have any requests for them, you would like to see, let me know.

Please share by reblogging

Thanks to @minervadashwood, @littlegodzilla, @green-eyedladywrites, @bringinsexybackk69 

[mrdixon]

A Rugged Muse | Chapter 2

pairing: eventual daryl x f!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: typical twd warnings, suicide, child death, gore (not as graphic but yk.)

summary: reader flees her city, meeting two rednecks on the way.

A/N: sorry this took so long and sorry it actually sucks URGGGHH tbh my writing has been eurrgghh so i hope this is somewhat legible, just know that it will get better. and i promise next chapter won't come like two months later

a rugged muse masterlist | regular masterlist

The door opened with a slight creak, peeking your head out to get a glimpse of your environment. You could hear the loud thumping of your heart echoing into your ears, placing a hand on your chest to try and calm yourself. The hall was quiet, a few of your neighbours’ doors were wide open. They probably fled.

The thing that caught your eye though was the door across from yours was still shut, Betty. You knew Betty from your history class from first semester, she had light brown curls and the prettiest green eyes you’ve seen. You probably have a few sketches of her in your sketchbook.

You cautiously walked out of your apartment and towards hers, knocking gently against the door. No response. “Betty? It’s (Y/N),” still nothing. Your stomach dropped again while you shakily reached for the doorknob, twisting it to find it was unlocked. You pushed the door open slowly and walked into her apartment, it was dim. The lights were off and the only source of light was the lamp down the hall.

“Betty?” You called out again, keeping your hand at your hip where the daggers were. Just in case you had… to use them. Her apartment was oddly clean despite the panic of the dead walking, so she should still be here. The faint smell of lilac filled your nose, a couple of clothes strewn around as you walked deeper into her apartment. You heard the faint sound of the television running, but you ignored it when you saw what happened to Betty.

She sat limp against her armchair, a very obvious gunshot wound to the side of her head, the gun in her left hand. Your stomach turned as you got closer, her hair was still perfectly curled but those green eyes were pale, empty. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and gently reached forward to close her eyes, not wanting to see her dull gaze. There was a letter on the coffee table and you noticed how unsteady her handwriting was, she was panicked. Her family was across the country, she had no one in a time of desperation. So she took matters into her own hands.

“The dead are walking, the government advises everyone to come to the camps in Atlanta. Food and supplies available for everyone…”

Your head turned to the tv which played the news, the newscasters hands were shaky and he was obviously sweating. This was real. You quickly scanned the area for anything you could take with you, carefully grabbing the gun in Betty’s hand. Might as well put it to good use. There was only 7 more bullets and no refills. You put it in your waistband anyway (with the safety on) but decided not to rely on it, you were better with hands on combat.

As you rummaged through the cabinets a thought entered your mind, did you even know how to get to Atlanta from here? You nervously nibbled on your bottom lip, opening a drawer and finding a map. How the hell do you even read one of these? Your eyes scanned over the small lettering, squinting as you brought it closer to your face. Your eyes followed the road from your apartment to Atlanta, frowning the more you looked. It would take about 4 hours to get to Atlanta from here if you took your car. Glenn was already in Atlanta so you had to get there quickly, not wanting to make him wait and think you died.

“Fuck,” you muttered, folding the map into your pocket before grabbing whatever you could carry and shoving it into your bag before getting out of there. You took one last look at Betty’s dead body before leaving her apartment and shutting the door.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you ran down the hall and down the stairs while keeping high alert and watching around. When you walked outside it was still strangely empty, but you didn’t dawdle. You preferred getting more supplies, but the few stores around the apartment were raided already so those were out of the question. You took the map out of your pocket and unfolded it to determine where you needed to go. It would take about an hour to get to Atlanta if you took Interstate 985 and switched to interstate 85, you could manage that…

You trudged on and made it a goal to avoid as many dead as you could. Sure you could kill them but you didn’t really want to, it was a struggle killing one so you couldn’t imagine taking a bunch of them at once. While walking through your city you noticed a few people driving by watching them pick a few people up off the sidewalks, while you admired their generosity, you couldn’t really trust anyone. A lot of people here were selfish which is reasonable, especially when you have dead people trying to eat you alive.

You got to the parking lot where your car was and quickly hopped in, throwing your bag onto your passenger’s seat. You put your key into ignition and started the car up, quickly pulling out of the parking spot and getting on the road. Your fingers tapped absentmindedly against the steering wheel, biting your lip anxiously. Your right hand reached out to turn on the radio, hoping music would ease your worries. It didn’t help much but you kept it on anyway, driving through the familiar streets you’d take on your way to work. Your fingers now tapped the steering wheel on beat to the music, relaxing your shoulders. It’ll be fine. You’ll be in Atlanta in an hour or less, and you’d be with your brother. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to get into that positive mindset.

There was a man by the side of the road, hunched over. You slowed your car a little to see what was wrong, but you knew by the way he was convulsing now. He was bit. You almost gagged but pressed your foot down on the accelerator, driving right past him. This was no time to be distracted by others, you had to focus on yourself.

You drove quick, thanking whatever god was there for the roads being clear. It didn’t take long before you reached the highway, already smiling to yourself in hope. But you quickly started frowning when you saw a few of the dead walking around, grimacing as you saw the wounds on them. Some of them were missing limbs, a few with straight-up holes through their bodies. Their mutilated bodies made you sick, trying to avert your gaze but naturally you couldn’t. You carefully dodged them, most of them following after your car. All you did was swallow thickly and pursue on down I-985.

As you drove further along the highway, you soon realized why the roads were clear. You audibly groaned as traffic started to get thick, looking ahead to see people getting out of their cars to determine what was happening up ahead. You furrowed your brows in frustration as it was clear this wasn’t going to move any further along, but when you turned your head to back up, there was already people pulling up behind you. You hit your head on the steering wheel and took a few deep calming breaths before grabbing your backpack and turning off your car. You got out of your car and followed after the people ahead of you to see the situation. As you started getting closer to the end you heard horrified screams and people ran past you, if you weren’t so frightened you’d probably roll your eyes. But as soon as your eyes landed on the scene, you felt your blood run cold. There had been an accident, probably due to people freaking out, and there was a man who had transitioned to one of the dead. Your eyes widened as you soon recognized him as your neighbour Jerry, he was grabbing at anyone.

You watched in horror as his youngest daughter watched her father maul at a bystander, she was obviously disoriented by the crash so all she could do was watch. Her small eyes wide in distress as she clutched onto her teddy bear, your eyes darting around to find her mother, eventually finding her slouched over in the passenger’s seat. The little girl cried out, reaching out towards her father.

“No!” You yelled, pushing past the crowd in hopes you’d get to the girl first, but unfortunately fate wasn’t on your side. A blood curdling scream cut through the air as you watched the girl get dragged by her father, ripped apart in broad daylight as the multiple dead started feasting on the child. You felt yourself get lightheaded, once again pushing past the crowd as they all scattered. You stumbled towards the forest, holding your palm against your mouth. Your eyes were watery and your entire body was wet with sweat. The screams of everyone soon became distant as you dragged yourself into the trees, collapsing onto your knees and retching for the second time today.

You cried again, pitiful really, crying and throwing up all at once. You couldn’t save that little girl, sobbing as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. You’d seen that girl around town, always with her father. She had the brightest smile and the most infectious laughter, and she carried that bear around everywhere. You let out a quiet sob as your mind played back the horrific way she died, being torn apart by her father as she was eaten alive. You couldn’t bear to see it, squeezing your eyes shut.

You felt something grab you by the shoulders and you immediately spun around, finding one of the dead had crept up on you. You fumbled for one of your daggers, stabbing aimlessly at the dead. You wanted to scream. Wanted to vent out all your frustration you had against this world. You let out a loud sob as you kept stabbing, raising your arms and bringing them down repeatedly, until all that was left was a mush of guts laying at your feet. You heaved at the sight, turning away from it and tremulously wiped your dagger on your pants, putting it back into the holster on your thigh before doing the same to your glasses.

You finally calmed down and returned to earth, almost crying again when you remembered your car was now gone and you’d have to travel on foot. You reached for your bag and took out the map, scanning over the paper and trying to determine where you were now. You were just off to the side of I-985, but it’d be hours before you even reached I-85. You sighed deeply and just carefully folded up the map after you sketched out your path, placing the map into your pocket.

So much for getting to Atlanta in an hour.

You woke up to the sound of banging against a metal sheet outside, you lifted your head off the hay you were laying on. You found a little shed on your way to I-85 and decided to rest, but judging by the way it was dark out, you slept a bit too long. You frowned and lifted yourself up from the hay, groaning at the soreness in your muscles. You placed your glasses onto your face before making your way towards the door. The banging was loud and you cursed mentally at the fact that the dead would come walking straight to it. Your hand instinctively went towards the daggers attached at your thigh, grabbing one and carefully opening the door.

To your misfortune, it was pitch black out. You breathed heavily and turned back in for your bag, grabbing your flashlight. Now with one hand occupied with a flashlight, you held your dagger in your other hand and walked out of the shed. You made your way over to the source of the banging, and there the dead person was, just continuously walking into it. You rolled your eyes and stabbed the thing in the back, pulling your dagger out and turning back towards the shed.

A few more hours till sunrise and you can start walking your way to I-85. Or so you thought before you heard groaning behind you, you whipped around and was met with the same dead person you killed just seconds ago. Judging by the movement coming from it, you obviously didn’t kill it. You panicked and swung your dagger, throwing yourself off balance. You let out a shout as you fell backwards, your glasses coming off as you fell, and the dead person toppling over you while your head hit the ground harshly. Your hand had let go of the dagger, it being thrown a few feet away from you. Unfortunately, the other daggers were inaccessible due to the dead person draping itself over you. With the strength you could muster up, you held the dead back with one arm, the other outstretched blindly to the dagger.

The dead thing’s jaw snapped at you, getting closer to your face. You grimaced in disgust from the putrid smell coming from it, the decaying skin getting closer and closer to yours. You yelled out in exertion, bringing both hands up to push the dead body back. Your muscles were already sore, clenching your jaw tight as you did everything in your power to push this thing off of you. It was no use, the snapping teeth came closer and closer. All you could do was close your eyes and accept your fate.

THWACK

The body suddenly went limp above you, your eyes opened and saw the dead body unresponsive on top of you. An arrow was through its head. There was rustling in the bushes nearby, your head snapping in the sound’s direction. You quickly pushed the body off of you and sat up, grabbing the dagger and your glasses near you.

The owner of the arrow made himself known, walking into the clearing where you were looking. He had a scowl on his face, sweat that glistened on his biceps under the low light of the moon. You could tell he knew what he was doing, from his rugged appearance and the way he held himself. He made his way over to you and you kicked away cautiously, his narrowed eyes glanced at you before walking over to the dead body. He let out a grunt as he pulled the arrow out of its head, a gross squelch sound could be heard.

“S’posed to get ‘em in the head,” he drawled lowly, wiping the arrow on a grimy rag he pulled out. You watched him carefully, in case he made any sudden moves. When he didn’t, you stood up and brushed yourself off.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, he just grunted and started walking off in the direction he came from. “Wait!” He turned slightly at the sound of your voice, an unimpressed look on his face. You looked down at your fingers, playing with them anxiously. His gaze was intense, one you’ve never encountered before. It made you a bit frightened quite frankly, his irritated grumbling made you even more anxious.

“Ya gonna stand there, or are ya gonna say somethin’?” He grunted. You looked up at him, his eyes trained on you intensely.

“Are you going to Atlanta?” You asked quietly, still playing with your fingers absentmindedly. He looked down, smirking slightly as a bitter chuckle left his mouth.

“Nah, shit’s been blown up by the military.” The older man grumbled, tinkering with the crossbow he held in his hands. A chill hung in the air around you. Your heart felt as though it had stopped beating, falling into your stomach as the feeling of dread washed over you.

“What do you mean?” Your breath caught in your throat as unwanted thoughts ran through your mind, “my brother is there.” The man looked a little uncomfortable from the amount of conversation that was taking place, his scuffed fingers anxiously tapping on the foregrip of his crossbow.

“Mean’s exactly wha’ I said,” he shifted on his foot, “it was their way of takin’ care of the damn virus.” He lifted his hand to nibble on the side of his thumb, glancing you over. You thought about Glenn, grief settling in you. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and soon they rushed down your face, a torrent of emotions streaming down your cheeks. The man shifted again, now very uncomfortable with the situation. He didn’t know what to do as his eyes narrowed uneasily. He cleared his throat, his body turning to leave. “Well, uh…”

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks while the sound of his boots crunching against the leaves signaled his departure. You didn’t know what took over you, but you ran after him. This man had just saved you. He immediately turned his head upon hearing your heavy footsteps race after him, your breathing a little heavy.

“Can I go with you? Where ever it is you’re going?” You panted, wiping your runny nose on your sleeve not even caring if you seemed disgusting in the moment. You looked up at him, his expression cold. If you had ears like a bunny, they’d surely be tucked back as you cowered under his scrutiny. He was about to just leave you there but you opened your mouth, “you won’t even know I’m here. I have my own stuff, so don’t even worry about sharing food or shit like that. Just, please don’t leave me alone.”

Your teary eyes and desperate tone almost made him feel pity for you, but he shook his head. “Tha’ ain’ a good idea.” Your desperation made you want to drop to your knees and beg, but you still had some pride in you.

Before you could convince him further, an older man appeared behind him, placing his hand on the younger’s shoulder. Upon seeing his face you almost mistook him for a dead one, your hand moving towards your daggers. The sound of his voice proving your judgement wrong.

“Well, well what do we have ‘ere?” His raspy voice was evidence of his older age, “baby brother, ya found us a fawn fer dinner?” His chuckle made you furrow your brows in disdain. The younger brother practically rolled his eyes in annoyance, shrugging the hand off his shoulder.

“Ain’ no fawn, was jus’ leavin’.” He glared at his brother, nudging him to walk on. The older kept his sunken eyes on you, a grin on his face as he glanced you up and down.

“Aww, tha’ ain’ no way ta treat a lady,” the older man nudged his brother. “C’mon, take a look at ‘er. Poor things frightened out of ‘er mind, can’t hurt ta take her wit’ us.” You watched as the younger man hesitated, glancing at you awkwardly. Sure, you were already uncomfortable with the older man but you couldn’t help but be grateful for him talking you up to his younger brother.

“Whatever,” the archer mumbled before turning away. You would’ve jumped in glee if it weren’t for the soreness in your legs.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You smiled, finally relaxing your shoulders. “I need to go back to grab my backpack, mind if I take a sec?” The older man nodded while you ignored the grunt of annoyance from the younger one, walking back towards the shed to grab your things.

Once you came back the younger brother had his back to you, impatiently pacing around.

“So, what’s yer name missy?” The older man spoke out while the other walked ahead, the both of you following after him.

“(Y/N) Rhee…” you mumbled shyly, keeping your hand lingering by the daggers at your thigh. Though he let you walk with them, you couldn’t help but feel a little cautious. After all this was the apocalypse.

“Name’s Merle, Dixon. Tha’ prissy over there is my baby brother Daryl.” Merle introduced himself and Daryl, your eyes dragging towards the younger Dixon walking a few feet ahead of you two. Your eyes traced over his broad shoulders, nodding in response to Merle.

“Where are we headed?” You asked softly, looking around at your surroundings. The sky was getting brighter with every hour, the air feeling warmer. Merle shrugged, laughing gruffly.

“Dunno, Daryl has been walkin’ for days. Figured it’d be better to get a move on than mope aroun’.” You looked back at Daryl, it was almost like his ears were perked up. He was definitely listening to your conversation though he paid no attention, you kind of got the idea he didn’t like talking very much. Still, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

Silence fell over all of you as you three walked through the forest, the sun was just starting to come up, leaves crunched under your feet and you couldn’t help but noticed they didn’t under Daryl’s. On closer inspection he was purposefully missing the leaves, but still impressive as he wasn’t even looking. You decided to walk closer to Daryl, walking ahead of Merle. You were like a little duckling who imprinted on him, your loud footsteps clashing with his quiet ones.

“Could ya walk any louder?” Daryl hissed, turning his head slightly and glaring at you in irritation. You shrunk and muttered an apology before looking down and making more smarter foot placements, almost tripping over yourself. He sighed, shaking his head as he pressed on. Your lips pressed into a thin line as your cheeks flushed in shame, continuing to walk after him.

Daryl refused to stop walking despite you and Merle’s protests of needing rest, but eventually you three stopped near a supermarket. Still, you guys decided to just sit around in the forest for safety reasons. Daryl was grumbling to himself when you and Merle settled down on a log, pacing around.

“Daryl, go sit an’ rest.” Merle waved his brother over, earning a glare from the younger. “Or don’, at least skin those squirrels we caught earlier.” As if on cue, your stomach rumbled embarrassingly and your arms instinctively hugged around your torso. Merle laughed and nudged you, “look, missy is hungry.”

“It’s fine, I got my own food.” You mumbled and started rummaging through your backpack, trying to avoid Daryl’s eyes. You grabbed small tin of tiny sausages, your stomach growled again. When was the last time you ate? As you tried opening it, the tin was quickly snatched out of your hands.

“I haven’ seen any of these since the outbreak started,” Merle rasped and opened the tin quickly, but Daryl quickly grabbed it back and shoved it back in your hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll skin the squirrels,” Daryl growled at his older brother, placing himself between you and Merle on the log. “No need to be stealin’ ‘er food.” You looked over at Daryl, his tattered sleeveless shirt damp with his sweat, his brows furrowed as he dropped his bag and looked through it. You silently ate your sausages while Merle groaned and waited for his own food. “After we eat, we’re walkin’ again.”

Now you were the one to groan, Daryl’s head snapping towards you. Not wanting to seem ungrateful for their somewhat hospitality, you bowed your head and continued eating.

“We can make it ta’ interstate 85 before night,” Daryl rubbed his bottom lip with one hand, pulling out dead squirrels with the other. You flinched back at the sight, you were still new to all this. You swore you saw a smirk tug at Daryl’s lips at your reaction, but he turned before you could see.

You dropped your empty tin and leaned back a bit, sighing. You thought back to Glenn, wondering if somehow he made it out of Atlanta before shit went down, dropping your head into your hands. Daryl looked you sideways, his knife skinning the squirrels easily. The morning was still young, meaning there was plenty of time for you and the Dixons to get to I-85.

You lifted your head and tilted it back to see the sun rays shine through the branches of the trees, closing your eyes to bask in the warmness of the sun, hope bellowing in your stomach. Maybe you’d be able to make it through with these guys.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [12]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 12,719

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, violence, canon violence, manipulation, gunshot wounds, mentions of drug use, drug use, reader is fed the fuck up, description of withdrawal (kind of??)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: I really do just love angst so much lmao You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next day Jason is with Crane. Jason is still reeling from last night. Dick knows pretty much everything now and that wasn’t a part of the plan. Jason thinks it’s only a matter of time before Dick shows back up and destroys the entire thing. It’s only a matter of time before Dick ruins everything all over again. And he thinks about you and how mad and worried you were. It’s all growing a bit too heavy for him, even with the drug. But, he pushes Crane anyway.

The sooner they get this plan in action, the better. The sooner Jason can take care of Dick, the better. But, Crane isn’t having any of it. Crane wants to go through with his plan but he’s also not telling Jason a single thing about it. It’s like Jason is just a piece in his game, a pawn. Doing all of the bidding and only knowing what’s going on when he actually needs to in order to do Crane's bidding. But, Jason shakes that thought off because Crane cares about him. Crane wouldn’t be just using him. Right?

“I met that girl of yours.” Crane states, getting tired of Jason’s pestering about going after Dick.

“I heard.” Jason quips, his voice snippy and harsh.

“She is a handful, isn’t she?”

Jason knows what he’s doing and he won’t. He can be as high as Crane wants him to be but he still has a line. And that line is you. It is always you. Anyone but you.

“I can handle her.” Jason states.

“Can you? You can fight better than her. You've had the training. But, like Dick Grayson, she walked away from last night.” Crane lets out a wistful sigh. “And she threatened to kill me.” Crane looks to be hurt as the words leave his lips. Jason knows better than to think someone threatening Crane's life would hurt his feelings. “Doesn’t it bother you that her and Bruce didn’t kill the Joker for you?” Crane asks and Jason’s eyes land on the floor. “I mean,” Crane lets out another sigh. “That maniac killed you and they couldn’t be bothered to kill him for you. Sam is at least a killer now but not for you. I, though, I brought you back.” Crane gives Jason a sinister smile as he places a hand on his shoulder.

Jason hates it because Crane makes a point. Bruce couldn’t even bend his morals for him. Bruce said he was his son and he took him in, he let him be Robin. Bruce was supposed to protect him and everyone else. But, then he couldn’t even kill the Joker. He’s not asking him to kill Two-face or The Riddler or even Crane, but he should have killed the Joker for him. That’s the part that hurts. And you turn around and starts taking out lowlives but you didn’t even hit the Joker first. Not even for him and you've been wanting his blood on your hands since your mom died. But, somehow, that wasn’t enough for even you. Jason, though, does know someone killed him. And he knows what you said about what him dying did to you. He thinks that person just beat you to it. Bruce though, even Dick. Dick could have killed him, too and he didn’t. No one that claims to care about him at all killed the Joker for him and none of you brought him back. Jonathan Crane brought him back from the dead. Not the people who care bout him.

“This isn’t about her. It’s about Dick.” Jason shakes his head because you're still the line. Despite it all, you're the line he won’t cross.

Jason knows, under the haze of the drug, you would have brought him back from the dead if you knew how. And if it were something you knew he'd want. You would have fought and chewed into fate and the Reaper with nothing but your bare hands just to bring him back. You would have killed the Joker if someone didn't beat you to it. After everything going on, you're still the one person who hasn't given up on him.

You're the line.

“See, that’s your problem. It’s not just about Dick Grayson. It’s about all of Gotham and your girlfriend is a part of that.”

“Okay.” Jason states, unsure where else he could possibly be going with this.

“She’s going to be a problem, just like that older brother of yours.” Crane warns as he turns back around as he walks into the little office building. “She’ll come after me eventually and then I bet she’ll come after you, with Dick Grayson at her side.”

“She’s not a problem.” Jason defends.

You could have killed him last night. If the first knife would have missed, you would have had a second one already in the air on its way to his jugular. If you want someone dead with a knife, you're more than capable but instead, you didn’t. You've had opportunities to kill him and fight him at full force but you don’t. You aren’t the problem, no matter what Crane says.

“Isn’t she? She still wants you to join their side and turn me in, the person who has helped you the most. Haven’t you thought about her using you? Her fear drove her to you and now she’s lost. She doesn’t know who is without you because she got to try to fix you and distract herself from it. You got her to live in that fancy mansion.” Crane says and Jason, right about now, is pretty glad he left out more about you.

Crane pushes sometimes for more information but Jason deflects and pulls information about anyone else he can. Jason won’t let Crane target you. That’s not how this partnership is going to work. It doesn’t matter. Jason Todd doesn’t make very many promises, but he made a promise to you and he’s not breaking it. You don’t break your promises to him.

“She’s not using me. I can get her to join our side.” Jason states, his voice growing more annoyed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” Jason lies.

“If I told you to give her the drug and help us, would you?” Crane asks, his brows slightly furrowing with the question because he’s already pretty sure he knows the answer.

Crane doesn’t know you already took the drug. Crane also doesn’t know the real reason Jason burned down his lab. Jason told Crane he was just covering his tracks after Hank. He knew Dick would be digging deeper and he might find it. That isn’t actually a complete lie, that’s probably what would have happened if Dick didn’t already find it. But, the real reason was that he didn’t want you going back and making more of it and taking it. He feels the comedown and sure, while he’s high or when he’s desperate not to feel that way again, it feels worth it. In those moments it always feels worth it but you were always better with dealing with your shit than he was. He doesn’t want you involved with Crane and he doesn’t want you addicted to the drug. You deserve better.

He’d never give you the drug. He’d never ask you to work alongside Crane.

“Yeah, she would do it. She’s just as fucked up as I was.” Jason lies through his teeth, shifting his weight to his right foot.

Crane nods his head but he met you. You're not scared, not in the way Jason was. He can tell you have her own issues but you're not like Jason when Jason showed up at Arkham. “Maybe she’s not who you thought she was.” Crane sighs. “You should really be focused on taking care of her with Dick, if that’s your goal that is.”

“No.” Jason states firmly. “Not happening.” Jason scoffs. “She’s not a fucking problem. She fights with Dick all the damn time and she fought him last night with me. Nothing to worry about.” Jason shakes his head, still a little confused what that was even about.

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Crane states. “You are. If you don’t take care of her, you’ll always be stuck here. You’ll never be able to get to your full potential because you’re too worried about what she’ll do. Maybe what she’ll think of you. Though, I have to say, she is not pleased with you over that Hawk fellow.”

“And she still fought Dick for me.” Jason urges. “Clearly, she doesn’t have that big of a problem with it.”

“I’m just giving you my advice. You want to be fearless but you’re still scared of what she’ll do and what she thinks of you.” Crane tsks.

“I’m not taking care of her. I want to go after Dick. Look, we know the drug works. I’m exhibit one.” Jason states, trying to deflect from you. It can’t be you.

“You’ll see, my boy.” Crane states.

The night before rings through your head like a migraine you can't quit. You and Dick got back pretty later, or rather early in the morning. Dick was instant he could take care of the gunshot wound on his own. He'd done it before, apparently. So, that left you to your room alone and sleeping didn't come too easy.

You could have had both of them but Dick just wouldn't listen and Jason doesn't listen and you're too damn loyal to him. If it were anyone else, you could have thrown a knife to injure them and you would have had him and then could have gotten Crane. But, it's Jason and you don't want to hurt him even if hurting him could bring him back and end up being for his own good. You just won't take the risk. And it sucks. And then you almost got shot because Jason and Dick can't work out their problems like normal people with an actual conversation. You're stuck in the middle of the two of them and you don't even know how the hell that happened.

And then there's the way Jason looked at you when you asked him to come home.

The drug must have been wearing off because he looked scared and for the life of you, you don't know why he would be so scared to come home. Yes, he killed Hank and that's bad but everyone attacked Gar while possessed and moved on from that. Gar killed people when he was being controlled. Jason is killing people while he's manipulated and drugged. None of them have attempted to do anything about any of the people you've killed. Dick just let Bruce walk right out after killing the Joker. Jason shouldn't be scared to come home and you feel horrible he clearly does. Getting him back just got a lot more difficult it seems and you're starting to second guess where you should stand in all of it.

You walk into the Batcave where you find Gar and Kory, looking to be researching something on the Batcomputer. You're best guess is they're trying to track down Jason. That's the only thing anyone is doing these days anyway.

"There you are!" Gar yells with excitement and relief as he rushes to you.

Gar's been worried. You and Dick went off without an explanation and didn't come back last night. Neither of you could even be bothered to answer a phone or keep the phones on for that matter. Kory hadn't heard anything and neither did Connor. He's relieved to see you're okay, even if you're looking a little out of it.

"Oh, yeah, hey." You let out a sigh as Gar brings you in for a hug.

"Where were you last night?" Kory questions. "And where is Dick?"

"And what happened?" Gar asks as he pulls away.

You furrow your brows, looking between them as your heart misses a beat. "W-what do you mean?"

Have they really not seen Dick? You might not have slept long or well but Dick is still, somehow, usually always awake. At least here like maybe the manor is haunting him in its own way. But, Kory and Gar are watching you expectantly and you worry maybe something went wrong with the whole gunshot thing.

"I don't think it's some coincidence you and Dick disappeared yesterday and stopped answering your phones." Kory crosses her arms.

Your jaw opens and closes a few times. "Uh..I mean...yeah..." You offer a yikes expression, squinting your eye slightly.

"Explain, now." Kory states sternly.

"Well, uh, you see...you haven't seen Dick or...heard from him?" You ask slowly.

"No." Kory grows more annoyed by the second.

"Not since he dropped Dawn off." Gar offers, hoping you get to the point soon.

You suck in a breath as you tug your sleeves over your hands. "Uh, yeah...so Dick got, uh shot. But, he was fine."

"So, you just went to bed?!" Gar asks.

"And you didn't think to come get me? Or any of us?" Kory demands.

"He said he had it and he's been shot before. I wasn't gonna argue with him."

"Since when? You argue with him all the time." Gar shakes his head in disbelief. Of all times you aren't going to argue with Dick, it's when he's shot. He could be bleeding out somewhere.

"Yes, I was not in the mood last night." You defend your stance as regret starts to chew at your stomach.

Kory lets out a groan. "And where did you last see him?"

"In the living room? Before I went to bed." You state but before you start giving up more answers, the one and only finally makes his way into the Batcave. "Oh, thank fuck." You let out a breath of relief.

"What happened!?" Kory asks quickly, immediately rushing over to Dick who's a little unsteady on his feet.

You and Gar watch the two of them and you can't help the grin that comes to your lips. Rachel made jokes about the two of them and said she thought it was weird but they'd be cute together. You get it now. Kory ran to him in the same you would have if it were Jason. Dick is clearly the idiot between the two of them.

You eye Gar. "Bet you ten bucks it'll be Kory to close the deal when she gets tired of waiting for him to get his shit together."

"I'm not gonna bet on that." Gar whispers with a soft grimace.

"Because you'll lose?" You raise, offering him a smirk.

"Yes." Gar chuckles. "I don't know if Dick is capable of having that conversation unprovoked."

You nod, rolling your eyes. "Batboys." You let out a sigh. "Okay, I give Kory a month."

"Four, tops." Gar sticks out his hand and you shake it with a soft laugh before you and Gar follow Kory and Dick to the medbay.

Dick takes off his shirt and reveals a gunshot wound on the upper left side of his chest. You furrow your brows. It looks nasty and his entire chest is covered in blood, most of it dry but some of it still looks fresh. Kory shakes her head, grabbing the supplies to stitch up the wound. Gar and you watch for a few minutes, mostly grimacing at the sight of it.

"Dude, that looks horrible." Gar scrunches his nose.

"Five inches over and we'd be burying another body." Kory says as she starts addressing the wound.

"Dude, seriously?" You huff. "You said you'd take care of that." You roll your eyes. You wonder how he could be so dumb. And reckless. It's not like it's a cut or a scrape. It's a literal gunshot wound close to his heart.

Kory stops what she's doing to look at you, Gar nearly snapping his head at you. Dick just glares at you, looking more annoyed than usual.

"What?" You ask, looking between all of them with wide eyes. "What'd I do now?"

"Let him go to bed with a gunshot wound and not tell anyone." Gar mutters under his breath, making you snap your entire attention on him. That's uncharacteristic.

"I'm not gonna force someone to let me help clean up their wounds." You mutter right back, earning a glare of disbelief from Gar. "Okay, unless it's Jaon or you." You snip back. "Sorry." Your eyes widen, looking between the three of them.

Gar keeps his stare on you. You're supposed to be friends and you're not looping him to anything anymore. You and Dick go off to fuck knows where and Dick almost gets killed. They're trying to find Jason since he went dark and you two can't be bothered to work as a team with the team. It's ridiculous. You're supposed to be a family.

"Explain." Kory warms, looking between you and Dick.

"It's nothing." Dick states, watching Kory stitch the wound.

"Nothing?!" Kory yells. "You two went off last night without a word! We deserve an explanation."

Dick pauses and you're not about to be on Kory's bad side. If Dick wants to piss Kory off, that's all on him. You do not want to do that. Kory is usually very nice but you have a feeling being on her bad side could get ugly. Plus, it's Kory.

"Jason's working with Jonathan Crane so we kidnapped him and took him to the cabin to lure Jason there. Then Jason and Dick started fighting and I helped. And then a helicopter came and Dick got shot." You explain simply.

The room falls silent for a few seconds as everyone looks between you and Dick. Kory wants to know why everyone who manages to get involved with Bruce Wayne ends up being some of the most reckless people she's ever encountered. Gar is piecing together everything you've told him and now he's even more frustrated. You and Dick went after Scarecrow and decided you could take him on and Jason on your own without any issues. You both didn't even have a backup plan. And Gar is realizing you not only took Jason's drug, but if it's Scarecrow, it was probably something he designed. You took a drug Scarecrow designed and knew that. Then neglected to tell everyone that piece of information.

You both could have died last night and everyone is supposed to just be normal about that. After everything.

"Wow, thanks." Dick quips.

"I'm not gonna disobey Kory. That's all you." You shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest but you can feel Gar's eyes still boring into you.

"And whose side were you even on last night, by the way?" Dick questions.

"You two morons almost fucking shot me!" You yell. "I was on your side. Hello? Do you not remember that and then you got the first swing on him. I was with you guys until you two almost shot me."

"That was Jason." Dick argues. "He pulled the trigger, not me."

"Because you grabbed his arm! It was aimed at you originally, not me." You let out a scoff.

"Enough." Kory warns, growing tired of the back and forth. The specifics of the fight last night don't matter right now when she's trying to fix a bullet wound that could have been fatal. She is so sick of losing people. "Barbara's responsible for this?" Kory asks.

"One of her snipers is, yeah." Dick answers.

"On her orders, I'm sure." Kory states. "Maybe I should go and have a word with her."

"I think there's been enough bloodshed for today." Gar adds in. "That was way too close, man." Gar's voice is soft but drenched in worry.

"I almost had him." Dick defends.

"No, I had him." You protest. "I had a knife ready to go. He never would have done it. I could have gotten him just fine but then you had to take the damn gun and I almost got shot." You pause for a second and if Dick would have just trusted you, maybe you really could have gotten him back. "We almost had him."

"Neither of you are listening!" Kory yells, looking between the two of you. "You scared us. Going out on your own, getting shot. It's not okay."

"I didn't want to put you guys at risk." Dick says. "She was here when I got the call. She's the only one that ever got through to Jason before. That's the only reason she went." Dick states calmly while Gar looks back at you as if waiting for you to explain why you didn't at least tell him.

"I'm not dragging you into it." You look to Gar as you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, bullshit, guys." Gar spits and he's sick of this.

"Excuse me?" Dick questions.

"Dude, Hank blew up!" Gar yells. "Dawn left us forever, and Jason went dark. You're killing people!" Gar looks at you. "This family is dying and you two go out alone and Dick gets shot?" Gar yells before he starts growling lowly, his entire face turning green while his teeth turn into fangs. "Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouths!?"

"Gar?" You question slowly as your eyes grow wide. You've never seen him this upset before.

"Gar!" Kory yells, trying to snap him out of it.

"Hey." You stand in front of him, putting your hands on his cheeks. "Hello?"

His eyes land on yours, refocusing his attention and the fire in his bones starts to calm. The green fades from his face as his fangs start to retract. He's so upset and hurt and terrified for the lives of the people he cares about most, he didn't even realize he was starting to transform and Gar doesn't lose control.

"What?" Gar asks, his eyes scanning your face.

"Take ten." Kory states and she also feels like they're starting to lose everyone.

"Come on." You offer your hand to him as you turn around to walk away. Gar joins his hand with yours. "Don't do anything fucking insane without looping me in." You look over your shoulder at Dick, sending him a glare before you turn back around. "You were turning green." You whisper to Gar as you walk hand-in-hand across the Batcave.

"Because you guys could have died last night! I'm sick of losing this family!" His voice is panicked this time.

Gar might wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he is also very good at controlling his emotions. He never just loses control but he is today and it has you feeling even more guilty than you already were. Dick has Kory and Babs. You have Gar and Molly. Conner didn't really know Hank and he doesn't really know Jason. Gar, though, he knew Hank and was friends with Hank. Jason is his best friend and yet everyone has someone besides him. Everything has been a mess and Gar is the one left trying to fix everyone and help everyone but who helps him?

"Come on." You tug him along with you until you reach the living room. You let go of his hand and take a seat on the couch. "Yell at me for it. Go for it. You're scared and mad at us, fine. I get it. So, yell about it. I'm not gonna tell you to take ten. Turn green, turn into a tiger, go for it." You say with ease while Gar just stands in front of you, growing confused.

"What...? But I...I don't know..."

"Look, if you need to yell, do it. I deserve it and Dick does, too. You let me bitch to you for months. So, yell about how you're scared. I'm not gonna be hurt or mad. If it'll make you feel even a little bit better, do it. You take care of all of us, all the time. Take care of you." You offer and it's true. If he needs to yell about it, he should. You're not worried about him turning into a tiger. Gar deserves to let everything off of his chest. He always lets everyone else vent to him.

Gar's eyes narrow slightly. "This feels like a trick."

"It's not. I'd yell at Jason sometimes. He just kind of let me and then he'd yell at me. It was never that we were really yelling at each other, but just yelling. Because we were scared or mad. It usually helped. So, go for it." You shrug softly. "I do deserve it though so ya know."

Gar lets out a breath and decides he'll take the opportunity. He is just scared for all of you. Losing Donna was really hard. And losing Jason was worse. He was close with Json and that sucks. And now he's back and he's dark, working with a maniac. Hank is gone, there's no getting him back. Gar just can't lose more people and he's pissed that you and Dick don't seem to care how any of them feel about it. You're supposed to look out for each other to make sure you don't get blown up or beaten to death but Dick and you just go off on your own without a word.

"I'm just mad at you guys and I'm scared you're gonna go out there and get yourselves killed." Gar groans. "We had no idea where you guys went. You guys left and didn't loop us in. We're supposed to be a team and I know you're between teams but we're at least supposed to be friends! Jason is my friend, too! I want to be on his side. But you guys aren't telling us anything! I don't want to lose any more people."

You're tired of everything and you're tired of keeping secrets especially when Gar is looking at you desperate for answers. He says you're between teams right now but what if you don't want to be anymore? Jason is going to do whatever Crane is putting him up to and Dick is going to off and do his own thing anyway. Nothing you're doing has been working anyway. Maybe you're tired of being the one in the middle.

"The call about Crane came in and we left. I was with Dick and I don't think he would have looped me in if I wasn't already there. You're my friend. You're right. And that's why I didn't tell you." You state. "It's just...I wanted to protect you, I guess. I, uh, I've been dodging Molly's calls and texts, too because of it. I'm with you, I'm sick of losing people. So, I didn't tell you."

"Okay and I get that but this is what we do." Gar urges. "We help each other and we help other people even when it's dangerous. It's dangerous but you and Dick still go out there alone. At least if we're all working as a team, we have a better shot of making it home."

You chew the inside of your cheek and you think your heart might stop beating soon. "I fought him, ya know? And I know what that was like because even though I was high, I'm sober now and I remember every detail. And it fucking sucks that happened. I didn't want that to happen to you. I don't want him to have a bigger reason to target you." You shake your head and you shrug slowly and weakly. "He's not your fight, Gar."

"Yeah, he is." Gar urges. "Why wouldn't he be? He's my best friend."

"Because I owe it to him." You nearly yell. "I owe it to him to fucking save him because he saved me more than once and I never fucking told him. I missed it. I will never forgive myself for it. I have to save him this time."

"You don't have to do it alone." Gar's voice nearly breaks and he desperately wishes that's something you would understand. You never have to do this stuff alone. That's part of being a team and a family. "He's our friend. He's our family. We weren't here and that sucks! But he's not just yours to save. What if you can't do it alone?" Gar asks. "You're up against a freaky drug, Jason who I don't think you could really fight if you had to, and Scarecrow!"

"I know." You nod your head. "I don't know, okay? I know I can't do it alone. I'm sorry. I really am." You suck in a breath. And you're realizing you do a lot of things alone. It's as if it's easier to do them alone and only disappoint yourself, risk your own life than drag other people in the middle of it. "Really, I'm sorry. I was...scared if I tell you then you have to tell Dick and what if that got Jason killed, ya know? I don't know. I'm sorry though."

"You can tell me." Gar says. "I know you're worried about him but you can tell me and I won't tell Dick." Gar stresses. "Not if there's a risk it'll get Jason killed again."

"I know." You nod. "I'll try harder. I'm really sorry, Gar." You let out a breath. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna stay out of it today and take a breather. Might head to Excellent Gotham later, just so you know." You offer a soft smile.

"It's okay." Gar nods his head and offers a soft smile back. "You're going to be able to do that?"

"Yeah, I think better when I take a step back and I need to find a way to not be in the middle." You let out a soft chuckle. "While not doing it alone. But, if something happens..."

"I'll let you know." Gar's eyes widen. "Thank you." Gar clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "That did help a little actually."

"Told you." You laugh softly as you get to your feet. "Want some food now? Yelling really works up an appetite."

"Yeah okay." Gar chuckles as you get up. "Oh! I can tell you about Blackfire."

"Blackfire?" You quirk a brow.

"Kory's sister. She was kind of tapping into Kory's head and she attacked me yesterday so we went to find Blackfire. Some scientist was holding her captive." Gar states excitedly.

"Um..." You stutter. "Well, we already have so much in common." You laugh softly. "But yeah, no, please explain literally all of that." You say eagerly as the two of you make your way to the kitchen.

Jason and Crane are standing in the washing area of an operating room, watching as the surgeon and the nurses prep a kid for something. Jason isn't sure why Crane made him come here. He said he wanted to show Jason something. It's important he understands what's going on and Jason's part in all of this. If Jason were being honest, he thinks Crane is full of shit this time and he just wants to get out of here. This feels wrong.

Then it gets worse.

A woman comes in holding a sword and starts slicing up the surgeon and nurses. Jason's eyes grow wide as his breathing stops. Blood sprays over the walls and window right in front of Jason. A nurse backs against the window with her hands up and begs for her life only for the woman to slice her, too. This isn't right. Why would Crane do this? They're doctors. They're helping some kid live and Crane has this woman come in....and kill them. She takes something with her before looking at the window and offering Crane a nod. Jason questions if all of that bloodshed was for that one thing. She didn't have to kill them. But, she did.

"You are expendable. If you're not happy here, you are replaceable. Remember what I said." Crane says as he faces Jason and that's when Jason realizes this whole thing might be to help Crane, but the show was a threat.

Crane is withholding the drug from him today. Jason finished the inhaler and then Crane refused to give him more until they came here. He's withholding it on purpose, let Jason's fear kick in just enough to keep him in line and make him desperate. And it's working.

He's scared again.

He's scared he'll end up like the surgeons and nurses. He's scared Crane is the one who's going to turn on him. Red Hood is supposed to be the face of the whole plan. That was the point of creating that alter ego. Crane wants Jason to get rid of you and just do whatever he says, when he says it. He wants him to divert from the original plan while telling him nothing about what's actually going on. He can't do that. That is his line.

Crane can try all he wants but no amount of drugs or manipulation will get him to cross that line. He might believe Crane sometimes about you, maybe he has a point sometimes. But, he won't kill you. You could have killed him at any point but you don't. You could have pushed him off a roof but you didn't. When Jason gets desperate he thinks of that because you're the one that stood on that ledge with him despite your fear of heights. You're the one that talked him down that day no one else and he owes you something for that alone. He won't go after you. He doesn't fucking care what Crane has to say about it, he won't do it.

The more he thinks about it, the more mad he gets. Crane thinks he's expendable, just like Bruce. But he's not. Why does everyone think he's so fucking expendable and replaceable? Why is nothing he does enough? He turned on all of his friends for Crane. He killed Hank for Crane. That's not enough to prove he's not replaceable and expensable? It's infuriating. He'll prove Crane wrong. If Crane wants to get to you, he'll have to go through him first. If Crane wants to wait to distribute the drug, that's a Crane problem, not a Jsaon problem. And he knows exactly what he can do to prove Crane he's not expendable and he can be trusted.

Later that night, you find your way to Excellent Gotham. The other Titans have been busy trying to locate Crane and Jason. You kept yourself busy with a scrapbook page while they did their own thing. It's not really all that nice distancing yourself alone. You figure Excellent Gotham at least provides dinner and you can talk to Tim, someone who doesn't know everything that's going on and doesn't come with the feeling of guilt. If Tim wants to talk about who the Titans are and Batman and Robin, that's fine, too because it's what you always did. Before everything. It'll feel normal anyway. At least Excellent Gotham is a good distraction and lets you take the breather you need. If you're going to be any help, you need the step back. You're too close to it all.

So, you stand at the counter with Tim on the other side as a large smile consumes your face, a take-out counter resting open in front of you.

"Okay, okay, why Bruce Wayne? Like, okay if Dick were Robin, how does that make Bruce Batman?" You question as Tim leans against the counter.

There's a genuine smile splitting your face as you point at him with your fork before going in for another bite. You've been here a few hours, checking in with Gar every so often, a way to try and keep your word to him. And this is helping. You might be in a heated discussion about who everyone is but it feels normal. It doesn't feel heavy anymore. It's just a normal conversation with a friend and it doesn't feel fucking sad. It just feels warm.

You don't remember the last time you felt warm.

"He's rich." Tim scoffs, a grin plastered across his face. "And why else would he let Dick go out there?"

"Unless he doesn't know. Bruce is a busy man. Dick being Robin doesn't mean Bruce is Batman and that's if Dick is Robin." You argue with a laugh. "And that means you'd also be wrong about Jason."

"No, no, I know I'm right about Dick and Jason." Tim pauses, the smiling falling. "Is...is that okay to talk about? Jason?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile. "I, uh, I like talking about him."

"Okay well," Tim picks right back with enthusiasm. You find it amusing how into this he is. Especially since he's right. "He has to be Robin. He has the same fighting style. He walks the same way, how do you explain that?" Tim raises. "And Robin 1.0 and Robin 2.0 share the same height difference as Jason and Dick." Tim states. "If they're the Robins, Bruce has to be Batman."

"Unless!" You yell with a laugh, flinging your fork around. "Dick recruited Jason because they're brothers! Like I said, Bruce is busy. What if Batman is just some guy? Like Kick-Ass. Doesn't have to be some rich guy and maybe he's recruiting kids." You argue and truly, you're only defending Bruce because you think it's funny. And Dick would kill you if you outed fucking Batman.

"Batman can be Batman because he's rich." Tim laughs. "Uh, where has Bruce Wayne been? Where has Batman been? They disappeared the same time!" Tim laughs.

"Bruce is on business! Maybe there's a Justice League thing!" Your laugh reverberates through the restaurant. This feels like home. "How the fuck would I know where Batman is?" You put your fork back in your food. "And that's still assuming Dick is Robin! He's not. Explain Dick having a stick up his ass. Robin is more free-spirited!"

"Sorry to interrupt this very important conversation." Mr. Drake states, walking back to the counter. "But Tim, where is Stephen? Get him on the damn phone and find out where he is. Or you're stuck here all night."

"Shit." Tim mutters, checking his phone to see Stephen's shift started an hour ago. "Okay, hold on." Tim says. "And we'll continue this." Tim laughs as he calls Stephen on FaceTime. "Where are you, man? Your shift started over an hour ago."

"Priorities. My girl's parents are out of town. I'll be there in a second." Stephen says through a grin.

"Seriously? I could have plans." Tim protests.

"What plans?" You snort. "You're here with me arguing about Batman."

"Whatever. Just hurry up." Tim says as he hangs up and three men walk into the restaurant.

Tim is about to start talking all over again with even more enthusiasm and proof but he gets a look at your face, eying the men as they walk further into the restaurant. Maybe you’re just paranoid but they look like they’re up to something. It’s that their walk is steady, determined, but careless. Their eyes don’t land on the menu or Tim or Mr. Drake. They’re pointed at the register. And that’s when you see the reflection of metal sticking out of the last guy’s waistband. He looks to you and then it starts.

The throbbing kicks in like a freight train. It’s an armed robbery and they plan to go out swinging. You’re quick, rushing to Tim as they pull out their guns. Gunfire surrounds and encompasses the restaurant as you tackle Tim to the floor behind one of the counters.

Tim leans against the counter, ducking his head with every echo of a gunshot. His eyes are on you as you take a breath, as if to be debating what you’re going to do. And Tim knows you knew this would happen. You were running to him before they had their guns pulled. And his thoughts are confirmed when you look back to him with fury in your eyes.

It’s been less than five seconds but it gives you enough time to gather yourself. It’s all you need. These people are not going to walk in here and murder the people you care about. They picked the wrong restaurant on the wrong night during one of the worst months of your life.

You lift your hoodie, pulling a knife from the belt around your waist before you pop up from behind the counter.

“Ya fucking missed, assholes!” You yell over at them as the knife leaves your fingers, connecting with one of the guys’ eyes, embedding itself deep into his skull as he drops to the ground.

The throbbing starts again from the side and you duck down just before a shot comes your way. You take another deep breath before grabbing another two knives and throwing one, hitting one of their jugulars. The last one still standing locks eyes with you, his gun pointed right at you. He has this…grin, one you almost swear you’ve seen before but you’ve never seen him before this. His breathing is steady and he actually looks relaxed while you have your arm ready and aimed with a knife, right at him.

His pupils are blown.

And then your heart sinks because Crane is free on the streets and these guys came in here completely fearless. This one finds the whole damn thing amusing. Maybe he’s just high on something else, or maybe you’re right and Jason and Crane have moved to disruption. Excellent Gotham wouldn’t just be a coincidence.

“Give me the money and it’ll be over.” He says so easily you nearly roll your eyes.

“Kiss my ass.” You throw the knife, hitting this one in the arm with the gun.

Then you throw another one, hitting him just below the eye. He drops to the ground in a hard thump, leaving the restaurant a glass and gun-shelled mess. The smell of gun metal seeps into the air while an eery and dense silence consumes the place.

Tim calls your name not ten seconds after the last man drops. There’s panic in his voice, a sense of dread. You rush right over to him where he’s against the food counter now, his dad leaning against the side of it. Blood seeps through Tim’s hands are he tries to hold pressure on the wound. You kneel down, seeing Mr. Drake breathing heavily. Your eyes scan over him, quickly running over the crash course Jason gave you in gunshot wounds once.

“He’s been shot!” Tim yells, desperation in his eyes as he looks to you, silently pleading for help. He knows you're Bluejay. He can only assume you've had some sort of training in this. More than he's had.

You can feel the lump in your throat grow and the spinning of your head. Blood never really bothered you and it didn't with Dick. But, it was mostly dry with him earlier and this, right now, is fresh and active. Your bones feel like they're going to vibrate through your skin and your teeth grind together, trying to push every thought out of your mind that isn't first aid. 

You have to help.

“Okay, move.” You urge as Tim pulls his hands away. Your hands are shakey as you lift Mr. Drake’s shirt, seeing the wound oozing and you think you might prefer knife wounds instead of gaping holes. “It’s gonna take the ambulance ten to fifteen to get here,” You rush out. “So, we–”

“Is that…?” Tim asks, cutting you off as his eyes are on the window. He only even looked up to see if he saw someone for help or Stephen but instead of help, he just saw one person.

Jason Todd.

You look up just in time to catch a glimpse of him before he turns around. This cannot really be happening right now. Jason Todd is supposed to be dead. It was all over Gotham City News. Bruce's newest adoptive son was killed in a freak accident. This is going to be a lot harder to explain to Tim and you want to explode. If he's here, you're right.

Why the fuck would he be here and why the fuck would he target the place you frequent?

“Okay, keep pressure.” You look to the door, seeing Stephen rush in. “Stephen, call an ambulance and grab some towels!” You yell as you get to your feet. “Stay here, hold pressure with the towels. I’ll be right back.” Your words nearly slur together as they come out as fast as your mouth will let them.

You rush outside where you see Jason, his back facing the open windows of the restaurant. You can’t believe this. Of all the things he could do, of all the damn people in Gotham he could target, he really came for you. For your friend and his family. You can’t fucking do it anymore. This is insane. If he wants to go after Dick, fine. Sibling rivalry bullshit taken to an extreme. But this? This is targeting innocent fucking people.

“Jason!” You seethe as you approach him. “What. The. Fuck!?” You scream, nearly vibrating from the anger coursing through your veins.

But then Jason faces you.

The anger washes away as your mouth opens, looking for words. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowed expression of the charism that used to radiate off of him. Maybe it’s the dark lighting but you swear the green in his eyes is pale, his skin is pale. He looks like a shell of who he used to be. He’s been acting like it but now…he really looks the part and you’re getting the idea that something really bad is happening.

Jason’s eyes are wide, tired, and exhausted but wide as he sees you come to a dead stop a few feet away from him. Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. You should be with Dick and the other Titans. He didn’t see you inside of the restaurant. Not before the gunfire or after. How did he miss you? It can’t be you. He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He wanted to prove he could do this. He chose Excellent Gotham on purpose, a way to show Crane it’s a threat at you without being a real threat. He knows you went to Tim for help. You weren’t supposed to be here.

Jason questions your name, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you.

His hands immediately come to your face for just a second and they send a chill down your spine. His fingers are like icicles and they're clammy, completely different than how they usually are and it breaks your heart. He keeps his right hand on your cheek, while the other hand goes to your waist. His eyes scan you over quickly, desperate to make sure you weren’t hurt in the gunfire. He didn’t take the drug again yet, he was saving it for after. He’s scared. Panicked. Desperate and guilty. You have blood on your hands and on your clothes. Can’t be yours. Not you. 

Please not you.

“Are you hurt?” Jason rushes but his voice is weak and fragile, echoed in pain.

You eye him and you’re stuck between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him in hopes to make it all better again. He’s slipping so far away from you and you’re scared how far he’s willing to fall. Crane is doing something to him. He has to because he didn’t look like this last night. He didn’t even seem like he cared this much last night. Right at this exact moment, he feels like the old Jason. And you nearly get sucked right back into his gravitational pull.

“What…” The venom is gone from your voice. “What is he doing to you?” You ask, your hand comes to to his face. Not him. Not again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason’s voice breaks.

“You know I’m always here. I was hanging out with Tim. Jason…what the hell is he giving you?” You look him over and you notice him favoring his leg. You haven’t seen him much since he’s been back from the dead but this is the first time since that first day you’re noticing it. You always notice it.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asks again and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He wants to spit his own heart right onto the ground in hopes it’ll stop the pain in his chest.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not mine.” You urge, catching him glancing at your free hand. “Jason, what is Crane giving you?”

Jason shakes his head, dropping his other hand to your waist. He misses you. He’s been so damn high all the time, he’s been able to ignore the longing in his chest. The one who always swore was his heart searching for yours. He could ignore it with ease but Crane has been keeping the drug close to his chest and this batch isn’t very good. He can feel it more tonight. It’s wearing off quicker. He can feel the worry for you and the care and the fact he fucking misses you. And the guilt for everything that’s led you both here.

“Same shit.” Jason grits his teeth. “You took it, you know.” He hates the words leaving his lips because they sound bitter and angry but it’s not at you. He just wants you to be okay and he wants to get the fuck out of here.

“No.” You shake your head, your voice soft. “Are you sure it’s the same drug? Jason, you look…is he withholding it from you?” His skin is cold and clammy under your fingers and his hair is flatter than usual.

You’ve seen it, what withdrawal looks like. You saw it on the streets and that’s what Jason looks like. Why would Crane do that? He’s insane and he doesn’t actually give a shit about Jason but Jason has been doing all of his bidding. You figure Jason is here with the drug. That’s why he just stood here while Excellent Gotham was attacked, he probably gave it to them. Surely, that has to be part of the plan. But, if that’s the case, then why does Jason look like he’s been thrown headfirst into withdrawal? And why would Crane be doing this?

“Stay the fuck out of it. I have it. It’s the same shit. It’s fine.” Jason grits his teeth. He wants to break. He wants to lose it for the first time since that first day on the roof with you. It feels like it’s been months since and it’s only been a week. And you look at him with worry and fear and you have always had a way with getting Jason to breathe. But, he can’t afford that right now. Not you. “Please.”

"It's fine?" You spit. "You look terrible, Jason. It's not fucking fine."

"Yeah, it is." Jason removes his hand from your waist and digs in his coat pocket, pulling out a full inhaler. "Fine." He wiggles the inhaler for you to see, the liquid sloshing around in the clear canister.

After all of that, he's going to wave the drug around as if it's fucking easy. He's going to stand here and pretend like it's all fine and well when he almost got you and Tim shot? He's actually lost his damn mind now. If he's going to stick with Crane despite everything, fine. You've stuck by his side since day one all those months ago. Fine. If it's going to be like that, fine because you can't take it anymore. You love him more than anything on this planet but this is not fucking fine. He's not fine and he has got to realize that. 

"Fine!?" You shake your head, eyes bugging out of your head in disbelief. "Get off me." You shove his hand off of you as you take a step back. It's not fine. None of this is fucking fine. He's not fine. That drug isn't fine. Working with Crane isn't fine. Doing what he just did isn't fucking fine. It doesn't matter what his reason is. "You...you just got Tim's dad shot. Do you know that? What have the Drakes ever done to you?" You look at him with disgust. "You could have gotten Tim shot, my friend. You could have gotten me shot!" Your voice cracks as you yell at him, your arm flying out to the side. You might be worried about him but you're not going to let him almost kill your friends because you're worried about him.

"That wasn't the plan!" Jason screams in desperation, his words clawing at the hope for you to believe him. "You went to Tim, didn't you!? I know you suck at figuring out codes! Tim is a genius. I just wanted to scare him!" Jason defends his stance, leaving out Crane wanting Jason to target you. If you knew this was a fake threat, maybe that'd be worse.

"Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit! You gave them the drug! That's why you're here! You did this! You knew what would happen and you did it anyway!" You bark back. "You just wanted to scare him!? Then do it your damn fucking self, Jason! You just didn't want the blood on your damn hands so I couldn't blame you! But you did this!" You point a finger at him and Jason isn't sure he's seen you so mad and...disappointed.

"You weren't supposed to be here! I didn't think they'd shoot anyone!"

That's not a lie. He didn't think. He just did it. He knew they'd go in there and rob them. Maybe they'd have to close down for a little bit. For safety. He didn't think about anything else. Thanks to the drug Jason claims is helping him and curing him.

You don't fucking get it. It doesn't matter that you weren't supposed to be here. That's a load of shit anyway. You're always here. Tim and his family are innocent, regardless on if Tim helped you or not. He doesn't know anything, not for sure. Jason's reasoning is flawed and it's cruel. It fucking hurts.

"Tim is my fucking friend! I don't care I wasn't supposed to be here! You....fuck." You let out a desperate groan, tilting your head back. At some point, enough is enough and he isn't even taking responsibility for this. You just can't do this anymore. You look back to him, eyes turning glassy. "I was fucking fine with you being a crime lord or whatever, taking out those fucks hurting people. But this?" You point at the restaurant. "These are innocent people! Hank was innocent! Dick is innocent! I can't fucking stand here and watch you kill innocent fucking people! And innocent fucking people that I care about and that care about me!" You say it all so quickly, you barely register what it would mean.

No no no no no. He fucked it all up. Like he always does. He just ruined it all. Everything is gone. Everything is going to shit. It's all messed up. He did all of this. How did he even get here? You can't walk away from him. You always swore you wouldn't. Please, not you, too.

You're all he has left.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Jason asks, jerking his up quickly as he tries to give the question some bite.

You let out a heartbroken laugh that's mixed with a cry as you look to the sky and hope a blackhole will open up just to swallow you whole. You have no choice.

You have thrown him life preserver after life preserver, and all he ever had to do was hold on and you'd reel him back to safety. But, all Jason has done is chew right through them and wonder why he's still drowning. You can't keep trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved. He was always your lifeline but you were clearly, never his.

"You win, Jason." Your voice is defeated as Jason's brows furrow. The lump in your throat grows so large you can barely get the words out. "You win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done. I can't." You shake your head as a tear falls down your cheek. The words taste like blood-covered glass, killing you with every cut and slice.

If you're always on his side, then what he's doing can't be that bad. If you're always on his side, defending him, why would he ever stop? You've tried everything else to get him home and none of it is enough. And it is killing you, knowing this is it. There is one last option because something's gotta give. Maybe if he hits rock bottom, having no one, maybe it'll turn him around. It's the only thing left to do because begging him doesn't work, loving him doesn't work, fighting him doesn't work, arguing doesn't work. Nothing else works and you hate it because you don't mean it, not even a little bit but you have no other options and you're devasted by what he is right now.

So, you say the one thing you can't take back.

A last-ditch effort, knowing he may never forgive you.

"I'm giving up on you. You get what you always wanted. I can't do it. I have tried and tried, but I can't do it anymore." You give him a tired shrug as you dodge his eyes.

If you see the heartbreak in his eyes, you'll take it back and you can't do that. If Jason always has you on his side, why would he turn things around when he hasn't yet? You could have died two nights in a row. He is actively targeting the Titans. You can't meet his eyes because he is targeting innocent people. It might be under Crane's control but, until he gets clear of him and gets clean, this has to be on Jason. Jason has to be the one to deal with the consequences and you will never forgive yourself for it.

Jason's world stops. Not you. Not another person. Why does he always do this? How did he even get here? You were never supposed to be involved. He should have included you from the start. He almost rips the inhaler from his pocket and hits it, right in front of you, anything to get rid of this pain in his chest. It's as if his heart just exploded through his cage, shattering every bone on its way out. How are you doing this?

You're all he has left.

Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears of agony and anger. "You're just like everyone else." Jason's voice cracks.

You knew it was coming but something about it makes you want to burst into tears.

"No." You shrug because he should know how badly this hurts you, too. This is the last thing you want to say to him, ever. "I'm not. I am not like everyone else. Don't ever say that shit again. You have done this. You came after my friend. My innocent friend, Jay." Your voice cracks as you try desperately to hold back your sobs. "All you have done since coming back from the dead, is hurt me." You pause, taking a ragged breath and Jason's face falls. Is that true? "And I have done everything to protect you. To be by your side. And you have done nothing but hurt me. So, no. I am not like everyone else. You just gave me no choice, Jay." You're quick to wipe a few tears away as your voice is weak and soft, lacking all fire and bite it had just seconds earlier.

He can't do it. He could try to make up for this. He could try to explain. He could just quit. That would do the job just fine. But, he doesn't. The heartbreak kicks in with anger and he just wants to be spiteful just like he always is as if fighting the person is going to change their mind. He knows it won't change yours but he does it anyway because he's hurt and the hurt has nowhere to go besides the open and cold air of this soulless city.

"You swore you never would but look at you now!" A lump grows in Jason's throat. "You said you don't break promises. Crane was right about you." Jason sneers as he closes the distance between you, looking down at you but he's not threatening or intimidating. You see the heartbreak in his eyes. You will feel guilty about this in every life you live.

Jason Todd has always deserved better.

"Okay." You shake your head slowly. "Sure, Crane doesn't know me. But you do. You know me. And you know I'd never be giving up if you left me another option. But, sure, believe Crane. Fuck it, right?" You scoff and all you want to do is cry. Or break every bone in your body because maybe that would be less painful. "I'm sick of losing my family." Your voice is quiet, barely a whisper. "All I ever wanted was you. And you died." You shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes on him. "And all I wanted was you." You say quietly and Jason wants to shatter, his breath catching in his throat as his vision starts to go blurry. "And still, all I want is you but...I don't know what else to do."

You can see your breaths mixing together in the winter air between you. Everything led you both here and all you both want to do is take it back. The winter air chisels at your face and hands, hacking away at every hope you could have had. Jason's eyes are locked on yours, dissolving into heartbreak and you think this is what hypothermia must feel like.

But, Jason is too scared of what will happen if he does take it all back. He's still under Crane's manipulation. He's too stubborn. And you're terrified what will happen if you back down. If you back out of it, who will he target next?

"So, that's just it? I didn't mean to hurt anyone in there. It's not my fault." Jason huffs and the anger starts to evaporate as the heartbreak comes in the form of agony and devastation.

"Sure." You nod and you don't want him to feel like he's trapped with Crane. You have to give up because that's your option. But, you can offer him someone else and maybe that'll be enough. This all boils to Dick anyway. "The same way your drug isn't Crane's fault. Look, I'm done. I can't do it. Dick though, he believes in you still. So, if you want to come home, call him. Don't contact me. If you get clean, then you can. Until then, don't call me. Don't text me. Nothing. And stay the fuck away from the Drakes, Molly, and Gar." You try to hide the quiver in your voice but Jason catches it.

"Please, don't walk away." Jason says softly and you nearly collapse into the ground. His words are like knives aiming right for your heart. How does he do that?

You rest a hand on his cheek. "I can't leave it like that so, I'll always love you, Jay but...I want the old you back." You nod as your hand falls from his cheek. You turn around, going to leave him but you hear Jason take a few slow steps after you before they stop.

Jason's voice cracks as he says your name, his version becoming so blurry he can't see. "I...I'm sorry." Jason says quietly, looking to the ground as a tear falls from his eyes. "Don't...please," He looks back up to you. "Don't give up on me. I have a plan and it's all gonna work out. This was just an accident."

You swear he's never going to forgive you for this. This is the hardest thing you've ever done. Even if he understands one day, he'll never forgive you and it's the hardest pill to swallow.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was." You nod softly. "I can't save you. You don't want to be saved, not yet. You have to save yourself, now, Jay. And for what it's worth, I..." You pause watching tears come to Jason's eyes. "I love you, Jay." You nod your head as you sniffle. "And I am so fucking sorry I couldn't save you. From Deathstroke, from the Titans, from the Joker...from Bruce. And from Crane. I'm sorry I was another person that let you down and I'm really fucking sorry I'm walking away." You shake your head as you lick your lips. "But I don't think you'll get it through your head if I'm in your corner. I've tried everything to stay." You suck in a breath as a few tears fall from your eyes. "I tried to stay for once because being with you was worth it to me. But I don't think it's helping you so...get clean and we can talk. The second you get clean, I'll be here." You nod once as the ambulance finally starts to arrive. "Those are for us. You should leave." You turn back around and head back inside of the building, leaving Jason in the cold.

How could he fuck up this bad? He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He just wanted to prove himself and instead, he's the one standing out here all alone. Guilt and shame gnawing at the last good parts of him. And he just can't do it anymore. The pain and the fear and guilt and everything about it. It's too much and too heavy and maybe he's a little spiteful. So, he puts the inhaler to his lips and takes a hit.

They said it was a skinny batch but he didn't realize it would feel like this. It's numbing a lot of everything but not enough and it all still feels too heavy. When things get heavy, he always went to you but he just fucked that up. It's his fault it's heavy. This is all his fault and you're supposed to be on his side but you're not. He's all alone again and all he has is Crane. It's not supposed to be like this. How the fuck did he even get here?

All he wanted was to be somebody to someone. To be enough.

Back in the restaurant, the paramedics are getting Mr. Drake into the ambulance, rushing him off to Gotham General. Tim watches with sad and hollowed eyes, his hands are covered in blood and his shirt is soaked. You squeeze your eyes shut, looking away before you shake it off. You can't lose it over Tim's dad. That's not fair.

"Do...do you need a ride?" You clear your throat as the ambulance drives away. "I have my bike. I can take you." You offer with a steady and firm nod.

"Uh...yeah," Tim looks at his hands, something lost in his voice. "That...that would be great. Thanks."

"Of course." You nod, reaching down for this hand. Your hands have been covered in blood enough times to almost seem normal. "Come on."

The two of you head outside to your bike and you wonder how you're supposed to explain this. Dick talked to you months ago, when you first came to the tower. It was all about vigilante life and what it entailed. It would be making hard decisions but knowing those hard decisions would be for the greater good. It's not killing people because enough people hurt and kill innocent people enough. Vigilantes, heroes, don't do that. It was about keeping the identities of everyone a secret to protect yourself and them. You've never had much of an issue keeping secrets.

You hold your own close to your chest, lock them away where even you forget they exist sometimes. But, those secrets aren't these. Those secrets only ever hurt you, only ever made you feel alone. These secrets that you're forced to keep hurt everyone you care about. They hurt Molly because you couldn't tell her about Bluejay or Robin or Jason or Red Hood. You and Jason would bail on her and you'd both would show up riddled with bruises and aches and pains. It hurt her because it worried her. It hurt her because Jason died and she never got to know him as Robin, the part of him that meant the world to him. She only got to know a portion of him.

But telling Molly meant telling her about Dick and Bruce and the other Titans. It wasn't your secret to tell because it would out all of them. And she still doesn't know he's alive because telling her means leaking something Jason wanted to keep a secret and that's going to hurt her even more.

This hurts Tim because his dad was just shot and he just saw Jason Todd who's supposed to be dead. Now, he's going to think his friend is lying to him about your boyfriend being dead. Lying about an alter ego is one thing, lying about someone dying is cruel. Even if you weren't close.

And it hurts Gar because Gar ends up in the crossfire of everything. He's the one up worrying when you and Dick don't come home. He's the one scared for what Jason is going to do because you couldn't tell him about the drug in order to protect Jason and keep his secrets for him. And then there's Jason.

You can't tell Jason what's going on with the Titans because of Crane. You can't tell him everything you want to desperately scream from the rooftops. That you're sorry and you don't mean it and it hurts you, too. You can't tell him you're scared Crane is going to snap and kill him. It'll drive the wedge further between you. All of these secrets are piling on top of each other, slowly building to the tallest building in Gotham and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses. All it does is hurt everyone you care about. That doesn't seem very heroic.

"Here, take my helmet." You offer the helmet to him once you reach your bike.

"Uh, no it's okay." Tim shakes his head. You're driving.

"Put the helmet on." You say sternly as you mount your bike, sending a glare to Tim.

Something about the look you give him makes Tim grab the helmet. "Right, okay." Tim nods and puts the helmet on before he gets on the back.

"Hold on." You state before Tim holds onto your waist.

You drive to Gotham General, pulling up to one of the entrances without blocking the ambulance entrance. Tim gets off and takes off the helmet, handing it back to you. He knows you know something. And if he's being honest, he's annoyed you didn't tell him. You aren't that close but...his dad just got shot and Jason fucking Todd knew about it. It was a hit. He stood outside and did nothing. Why wouldn't his own girlfriend know he's alive and planning a hit? You have acid generation and combat clairvoyance while also being an excellent marksman. Tim swears it can't be some coincidence you were there tonight.

"I'm really sorry about your dad." You state softly, holding the helmet on your thigh.

"Thanks." Tim looks back at the hospital. "That was Jason Todd outside, wasn't it?"

You nod softly and you know you can't deny that. Tim saw him "Yeah."

"I thought he was dead." Tim questions as his voice holds hints of venom, something you haven't heard before.

"Yeah." You nod again and you hate yourself for tonight. For everything. "Don't, uh, don't tell anyone. It's a long story." You hang your head, dodging the look Tim is surely giving you.

"You knew?" Tim scoffs, looking at you with annoyance and disappointment. Why the hell would you let everyone believe he were dead? "He faked his death or?"

You look back to him and all this sucks. You're sick of lying and hiding secrets. It's tiring and lonely. It's so fucking lonely.

"No." You shake your head. "He, uh...he really, uh...he really died." You suck in a shakey breath before you shake your head quickly. "I-I can't tell you anything else." You let out a bitter scoff. "That's shit and I know that. I'm sorry."

"Did he target us because of you? Because of the Titans?" All Tim wants is some clarity. There had to be reason. Tim helped you with a code. That's what it was.

"Not a Titan." You sigh with exhaustion, lacking any and all fight you'd normally have with the statement. "I don't know why." You lie but you're sick of this. Keeping these secrets is making you out to be the bad guy with everyone and you're not. You're just trying to protect everyone you care about so, you're not going to tell him in so many words but you're not going to cover it up either. "Um...yeah...maybe it was because of me but uh...I, uh, I never...I never thought he'd figure it out or....or come after you. I should have left you out of it."

Tim nods bitterly and he wants to understand but his dad could have been killed. "That code, it wasn't a murder mystery thing, was it?" Tim asks and you just suck in a breath, not offering him anything else. Technically, you aren't lying and technically you aren't telling him anything. He already knows. You don't need to so he nods. "I saw what you did. You knew they were going to start shooting. I was right."

You shake your head, looking to the sky and it's gloomy as always but it looks like it might snow. You scoff looking back to Tim. "I saw the guns."

"Bullshit, you know," Tim gestures a hand to you. "You're supposed to be a hero, like Batman and Robin but..." Tim shakes his head.

"Fuck Batman." You mutter as your jaw clenches.

"You're supposed to help people." Tim says sternly.

The lump in your throat grows and you bite your cheek so hard the taste of iron floods your mouth. It's not supposed to be this hard. And why does helping people have to be so black and white? Good and bad? It's not. Whether anyone likes it or not, the guys you want to target and take out permanently and the guys Jason was going after, that was helping. Making sure they can't hurt anyone else ever again. That's helping. Dick thinks he can help all of the Titans and he fucks up sometimes which gets people hurt, but he still helps. Sometimes people get hurt and that sucks but does that really make everyone else irrelevant? Does that really make everything else wrong? Or the motive and reasoning?

Helping people shouldn't be black and white, good and bad, morally good and morally evil. There needs to be a grey area because you have people like the Joker who needed to be killed for the greater good of everyone in Gotham. And you have people like Jason who isn't in his right mind and is being manipulated but should still be helped. It sucks Tim's dad got shot and you will regret going to Tim for help forever, but you're helping him by not telling him anything, even if you want to and even if he doesn't see it that way.

"I am literally begging you to please go inside and leave this alone, Tim." You force the words through gritted teeth. "I can't fucking tell you anything else, okay? I want to. If it were up to me, I'd fucking tell you what's going on but I can't. It's not my shit to say." You look to the ground and then back up to Tim, rolling your shoulders softly. "So, I'm sorry." You shake your head, giving up and cluing him enough. Technically, you're not admitting to anything, just admitting that you know what's going on.

"You just confirmed it." Tim says softly. "I'm gonna figure out what's going on and--"

"Tim! Please, go be with your dad. Trust me." You practically beg him because if he digs into this, what's going to stop Jason from actually going after him? Tonight might have been a threat or whatever, but at this point, you don't know if he would actually go after someone like Tim. You need him to just take what you're saying and understand it.

"That's my dad."

"I know and I know it sucks. I get it which is why I'm telling you to go be with him." You say softly as your voice cracks.

Tim nods softly, understanding why you're saying it. "Thanks for the ride."

"Just...text me about your dad, okay?" You ask. "I'm really fucking sorry."

"I will." Tim nods because he's beginning to think maybe this isn't on you. He might know who you are but you aren't as cut and dry as Batman and Robin always were. You're more morally grey and maybe it is more complicated because it involves Jason. You look terrified. "Thanks for saving me."

You nod quickly. "Of course." You say softly. "Good luck." You suck in a breath, popping the helmet on and taking off.

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A/n: I still promise reader and Jason get a happy ending lmao This just had to happen lol but I do make up for it a little bit next chapter (pretty sure it's next chapter)

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