#confirmed if given the chance he will swear at you

[sxtaep]

THE ONE YOU NEED - JJK

after getting dumped, jungkook finally had the opportunity to swoop in and heal your broken heart.

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — angst, fluff, smut

word count — 2k

warnings/tags — roommates!au, confession!au, softdom!jk, sub!reader, lots of cussing, swearing, reader is angry & upset, jk is in love w you, mentions of a bummy ex, crying, very soft, so much love, touching, romantic, sexual tension, hickeys/neck kisses, first kiss, explicit smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys), penetrative sex, soft dirty talk, overall very raw and soft

a/n: something short and sweet and a little fast paced 😰

inspired by this song 💗

“Literally FUCK HIM,” you curse whilst pacing around your apartment, clear frustration evident on your face as you threw a strop. Breakups were generally easy as it took a lot for you to get attached but this one… it wasn’t going too well.

You’d been in a mood all day after your boyfriend decided to call it quits all of a sudden because he felt you were “too high maintenance” which, on its own, was pretty offensive but that didn’t really tug at your chest. The fact that he couldn’t handle your high maintenance self made you wonder if anyone could ever deal with you.

At the moment, it looked like no one could.

Jungkook, sat at the edge of your couch, merely watched you pace around with his hands clasped together over his mouth, his eyes following your every move and being cautious as to not topple you the wrong way.

He learnt the hard way; let you rant for as long as you need to and soon enough you’ll calm down.

“Calling me, of all people, ‘high maintenace’, who the fuck does he think he is?!” You aggressively turn towards Jungkook, as if directing the question to him, and you know you caught him by surprise when his mouth fell ajar, practically speechless.

“He never spent time with me, never even acknowledged me, you’d think I was dating a brick wall!”

Yeah, Jungkook knew all of that. He knew your boyfriend was an ass and only showed you attention when he wanted to fuck, which you so willingly gave to him because you always grasped at ‘romantic’ intimacy, and Jungkook hated it. He bet the guy wasn’t even that great in bed since you’d always come back the next day in an awful mood.

“I can’t believe I spent all those nights with him. He couldn’t make me cum once, it got tiring faking all those orgasms.”

That’s his doubts confirmed.

You continue to pace around, spilling all your thoughts and dramatising your hand gestures until you stopped. Jungkook looked straight at you and his features softened when he noticed how teary your eyes had become; on the verge of spilling down your cheeks. He could tell you were trying to hold in the tears, but why? You knew you could comfortably cry around him.

Right, because on many occasions, he pointed out that your boyfriend was a dick, an unappreciative one at that and you decided to ignore his opinions. Your relationship was like watching a girl in highschool chase after her much loved crush who had no interest in her. It was kinda sad and all Jungkook could do was sit back and watch you get hurt over and over again.

If you were with him, you’d never be treated like that.

He hated seeing you in this state. As someone who deserved nothing but the best, seeing you upset over a stupid ex boyfriend made him feel all sorts of things; predominately anger, but that was a given. It also pissed him off beyond words because Jungkook had every chance to swoop you into his arms and keep you to himself, but a part of him genuinely thought you were in love with the guy, so he stayed put.

“Am I really too much to handle?”

Jungkook could’ve sworn his heart broke right then and there, and it hurt more seeing you cry over something that was complete bullshit. His fist was twitching (the things he’d do to punch the living daylights out of that asshole) but you were his first priority.

“Y/N…” he starts, getting out of his seat to approach your form, which looked even more fragile now than when you were mad. “Honestly, that guy has no clue what he’s talking about,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, leaning down slightly and reaching his hand towards your face, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes.

The pout on your lips only became more prominent as your cheeks heated up from the kind, yet subtle gesture. That’s weird. “No guy wants a girl that’s ‘high maintenance’, is that what he’s trying to tell me? Because I know damn well he didn’t do half the shit I had planned for us—”

“—You’re not high maintenance, you’re eager,” Jungkook adds, bringing you closer to his chest so you could rest your head against him and cry to your heart’s content. “Besides, it’s not a bad thing.”

Your fist lands a punch to his chest, “Obviously it’s a bad thing if it’s the reason why my boyfriend broke up with me, stupid,” you say, through short, broken sobs.

Your roommate only chuckles, his chin resting on your head as he embraced you in his arms. “I don’t think it’s bad. I like my girls high maintenance,” Jungkook smiles ahead at the blank wall, hoping his words would be enough for you to catch on.

“You don’t mean it. You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you grumble, looking up at him with your glassy eyes and tear stained cheeks, expecting him to make a joke about it but nope, he seemed pretty content staring at the wall like it was the love of his life.

“I think I’ve had my fair share of handling you, and I’ve done a pretty good job at it,” he shrugs, showing you a sheepish smile, “because I care that much about you and I’m willing to put in the time and effort to show you that.”

Was he saying this in a romantic or platonic way?

“Your ex was probably the guy you wanted, but we both know I’m the one you need,” Jungkook whispers softly, leaning down towards your face, and you think he’s gonna kiss you, but he stops before your lips could make contact with his.

Your silence factored out his words being false, and from that, he knew he got you. “I know you felt what I said,” he calls you out on your bluff, pulling you away from him so he could look at you properly and deem his thoughts correct. He shifts his hand over to your chest, right above your beating heart, “…Right here.”

With the way you were staring at him, you were either extremely turned on by him indirectly confessing his feelings to you, or extremely heartbroken that literally anything and everything seemed attractive to you right now.

Who were you kidding? It was all Jungkook.

You finally speak up, your voice ten times quieter than it was earlier on, “And what if I did? What does that mean?”

“I don’t need you confirm or deny it, I know you well enough to know you felt my words in more places than one,” Jungkook’s eyes dance down you body to settle where your poor cunt was jumping between your legs, making it all the more obvious that you were clenching your thighs shut.

Shit. He was good.

He laughs softly, “How could he ever leave a pretty girl like you unsatisfied?”

A part of you still wasn’t convinced by his words, “If you really wanted me, you could’ve had me by now,” you throw at him, expecting him to stutter, but Jeon Jungkook had eyes on you for a pretty long time, so he had a lot to say.

“It’s kinda hard going after a girl who was too busy chasing someone else. You know I don’t roll like that,”Jungkook tugs at your arm, urging you to turn your back towards him so he could rut himself against your lower half whilst his hands slowly, yet with so much need, trailed up and down your arms, warming you up and giving you the chance to relax. “Besides, being patient always works out in the long run.” He was adamant on showing you the love you deserved and if you were planning to be ‘high maintenance’ about it, you bet he had a couple tricks up his sleeve to deal with that.

As if it were second nature, your body was acting on its own, easing into his touch as his hand slipped under your shirt, drawing small circles over your stomach. It wasn’t much, but this is exactly what romantic intimacy felt like, and it made you wonder why the hell you weren’t with Jungkook to begin with.

A pair of soft lips were grazing against your untainted neck, leaving short, supple kisses as they dragged downwards, giving himself more room. “Did your ex ever show you love like this?” Jungkook mumbles, too caught up in kissing you, but he didn’t need to hear you say no. “Why couldn’t he cherish you, huh? I should’ve snatched you up when I got the chance, how stupid of me.”

You’re unable to respond, your senses letting you down much faster than you anticipated and you could practically feel the smirk Jungkook was sporting right now, so you turn around to face him and boy, you weren’t wrong.

“Oh, that’s got you speechless?” He wasn’t mocking you, he felt sorry for you. These past boyfriends of yours never took the opportunity to appreciate the being that was you, never took the time to touch you or show you the love he felt you were entitled to.

He would be a dead man if he didn’t just do it himself.

“Look up for me, would you?”

You hesitate at first, but before you could bask the sight of his face, Jungkook had trapped you in a slow moving kiss. It’s not too fast, nor is it too slow, but it’s just enough to ease your mind and completely take over your being as your arms reach out to snake around his neck, eagerly pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

Your forwardness reassured him that you were all for what was about to go down and before you knew it, Jungkook was holding you tightly within his embrace whilst you straddled his lap, taking his cock like you were made for it. You’d completely forgotten about your broken heart; Jungkook’s constant care and reassurance helping you to disregard today’s events and focus on him.

All these months of watching you chase after a man who didn’t deserve you, Jeon finally had you to himself.

This wasn’t going to be ‘just a quick fuck’. The last thing he wanted was for you to assume he was doing this out of pity, but no, this would simply prove just how much he yearned for you. Jungkook’s top priority was to please you first and foremost.

“Bet that asshole couldn’t fuck you like this, huh?” His tatted hands grip the flesh of your ass, squeezing generously as you whimpered on top of him, masking the illicit sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. His hushed groans joined in as he looked down to where you both met only to see a glistening mess of your arousal coating his length.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this position with your roommate and you only wished you realised sooner that the one who truly cared about you was right under your nose. You felt kinda stupid letting yourself go through useless heartbreaks and dodgy boyfriends when the one you really needed was here all along.

With Jungkook burying his face into the crook of your neck, things felt incredibly raw and intimate, not to mention, you felt so full, you wouldn’t need to force yourself to fake an orgasm around him.

“Gonna come..” You breathe out, your soft walls clenching around him as your hips moved up and down on its own, this time at a much faster pace, but Jungkook was eager to see you finish by his own doing.

His suddenly lifted his hips off the couch, thrusting up in you at such a deprived pace, knowing he was hitting all the right places by the pleasured look on your face. His arms snaked around your waist, his pace unwavering, “Right there, huh? That feel good?”

You nod without hesitation, ignoring the way your inner thighs were tensing in anticipation, waiting for your high to drain you.

“Go ahead and cum, baby. I know how long he kept you waiting.”

perm taglist: @aliceaflor5-blog - @kookiecrumb - @jjkeverlast - @prettyghost - @kooliv - @koobsessed - @gimmethatagustd - @pb-n-juju - @aslias17 - @ririlovesangst - @kootonins - @taehyungseggs - @dewamused - @jungshook7 - @jiminsneckkisses

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[southsideserendipity]

drunk & disorderly (alternate ending) (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: Your alcoholic father shows up at the firehouse, persistent on making amends.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, violence, swearing, Kelly being protective AF <3.

Word Count: 2.7k

*This is an alternate ending for one of my imagines: drunk & disorderly. They can be read separately and in interchangeable order. Link to my master list."

“Shay, we are never drinking that much the night before a shift again. I’m so hungover” you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation in the passenger seat of the ambulance. You were returning to the station after the first call of the day, and the pounding of your temples was exacerbated with every bump in the road. 

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, we can handle a lil hangover” she said jokingly. “Besides, wasn’t that drinking game fun?” She asked in a suggestive tone while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“I’m not sure, I can’t exactly remember last night’s events” you giggled, trying to rack your brain for a hint as to how the evening played out.

“Well, what I remember extremely vividly is you and Severide not being able to stop flirting with each other,” Shay said this without taking her eyes off of the road, but you knew she wasn’t as annoyed as she was making herself out to be. She loved the idea of the 2 people she loved the most being together. 

“I can’t confirm or deny my actions or the events that occurred last night” you led in a serious note, trying to cover up your schoolgirl crush on Severide in a playful manner.

“Oh, just fuck him already! Blame it on the alcohol!” Shay encouraged, using her hands to help communicate the message. “I know you like him, and who’s to say he doesn’t want you?” she questioned.

“I’m not sure Shay, you would know the most given the fact that you live with him, wouldn’t you? Has he said anything to you??” Turning your entire torso towards her, you suddenly become very invested in the conversation. You had made comments to Shay about how hot Severide is, but you’ve never fully expressed your interest in him.

“My lawyer says no further comment” Shay responds, zipping the imaginary zipper on her lips and throwing away the key. 

“Oh come on, Shay!! Help a girl out” you moaned in defeat, crossing your arms in front of your chest despite knowing that what the 2 roommates were discussing was private.

Shay was the person who got you and Kelly close to begin with. Being that you and she were ambulance partners, you went over to their place often, seeing him just as much as you see her. 

“He may or may not have said some things about you, but that’s all I can say!” Shay spat out the sentence, picking up the speed as it went on as if the faster she said it, the less of a chance Kelly was to somehow find out. 

“Oh, this conversation is NOT over" you responded. You weren’t ready to drop the topic anytime soon, but you had arrived back at the firehouse.

Before you could pester her with further interrogations, you saw a figure as she was pulling into the ambulance bay.

“Who is that?” Shay exclaimed, confused that someone was blocking her. 

You squinted your eyes, confident that they were playing tricks on you based on who you were perceiving to be there. Once Shay had driven as close as she could without running them over, you knew your eyes were not deceiving you. 

“My dad” you spat angrily, upset that this was your current reality; that a member of your toxic family had followed you to the one good thing in your life. 

You were both frozen in the ambulance; you, unsure how to avoid this interaction, and Shay, confused as to how she could help you. 

You got out of the ambulance and began making your way inside, pretending that your dad was an invisible man and that his presence had no effect on you. Shay followed suit. 

When you walked past him you heard him scoff, and he threw his hands up in the air, resembling confusion.

“You’re just gonna walk past me. No ‘Hi dad, how are you? Long time no see.’” You couldn’t believe what you just heard, but once you partially processed it, you decided that this was indeed your battle to pick today.

You had moved to Chicago from Toronto after applying to the academy, deciding that between your narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother, and your alcoholic dad, it was time to leave; not to run away, but to survive. 

Your older brother is a firefighter in Toronto, and you easily could’ve gotten a job at his firehouse, but you had always loved Chicago and decided to bite the bullet. 

“You have some nerve.” Slowly turning around to face him, you tried to keep yourself from seeing red. He didn’t deserve to know he got a reaction from you. “Showing up at my place of work unexpectedly and expecting me to give you the time of day.” 

“I just want to talk, Y/N.” You started hysterically laughing once you heard what he had said, the anger presenting itself through laughter. Your father was confused as to why you were reacting this way, and quite frankly, so was Shay. She had never seen you so upset.

“Get out of my firehouse. You don’t deserve to be here.”You pointed towards the street, urging him to get out of your sight. 

“Y/N just hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it but it’s been so long and I just want to be a part of your life again. Things are different now.” The pounding in your head was starting to become excruciatingly unbearable the further this conversation continued.

You could hear the sounds of squad and truck rumbling down the street and you knew that you needed him to leave before the entire house got back. 

“Yeah, things sure as hell are different, I left before I suffocated and you couldn’t give a rat’s ass where I ended up. Until today, a random Saturday morning 2 YEARS after I spoke to you last. I want you to leave, NOW. Don’t make me escalate this situation.” You were sick of people walking all over you- blood-related or not, and you weren’t going to have any of this. Especially not in front of your 51 family.

By the time you finished your spiel, truck and squad were both parked and beginning to filter out, undressing from their turnover gear.

Severide hopped out, pulling his turnover gear down to his waist. He was wearing his lieutenant shirt with suspenders, and his squad 3 baseball cap. He would make subtle glances over, not wanting to make the fact that he was eavesdropping obvious.

“I’m not going anywhere until you decide to give me another chance. Until you let me make things up to you” he pleaded, reeking of desperation. 

At this point, heads were turning to observe the interaction.

“I gave you one too many chances, and I’m done. I’m not sure how you didn’t get the hint that I wanted nothing to do with you when I moved countries, but I’m now verbally letting you know that this relationship is over.” You had thought about simply walking into the firehouse but you didn’t want to risk finding out whether he had the gall to follow you. 

At this point, a few members of 51 had filtered into the lounge, knowing that they probably weren’t meant to be listening to the conversation. Others took their sweet time getting undressed to keep an eye on the situation.

Severide was especially lingering, always having an urge to protect you against harm’s way. He didn’t know much about the situation given that you kept your past secretive, but knowing how abusive fathers can be, he stood near.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ve always been so damn stubborn. Do you need to act like this when I’m trying to prove to you that I can be better?” Your dad was genuinely curious as to how you could be so cutthroat towards him as if his drinking didn’t ruin the first 2 decades of your life.

“I don’t think you need to prove anything to her. It’s pretty clear you’re not a part of her life and that she wants it to stay that way.” You didn’t expect to hear Kelly’s voice from behind you all of a sudden.

“Kel, it’s okay. I got this.” You felt torn between wanting him to stand up for you and telling him you can fight your own battles. He stepped closer toward you, and Shay took a couple of steps back, knowing you now had extra protection. 

“And who are you?” your father asked, not breaking eye contact with you. His hands were placed on his hips, and by his body language, it was evident that he was not leaving without a fight. 

“Lieutenant Severide of 51, and respectfully, I’m asking you to leave my firehouse” Severide stated in a calm but straightforward manner. He crossed his arms and waited intently. 

Your dad chuckled in what seemed to be astonishment while shifting his eye contact repeatedly from you to Severide. “Sleeping your way to the top; very typical of you Y/N. I thought you would’ve changed your ways by now” your dad scoffed. 

You were beyond pissed off that he was even here right now, but that comment officially made your blood boil. Thinking about what you could say in response, your dad decided to speak up once again.

“Let me ask you, how long have you been fucking my daughter, lieutenant?” He said the last word as if it was dirty. 

Kelly stepped right up to him as if he had no fears, something you wish you could’ve warned him about before doing. You were grateful your dad appeared to be sober because if he hadn’t, a brawl would’ve already broken out between them.

“Y/N has been nothing but a talented and competent paramedic with a great amount of expertise in her field. She‘s proven time and time again that she’s a necessary addition to this team, and deserves to be a part of this family- she did that all by herself, no thanks to you. Now get out of my firehouse before the chief gets back and escalates this even further.”

You were blown away by Severide’s words, unaware of his thoughts regarding your presence at 51. He managed to respond in a professional yet serious manner, and he did it with ease, seeming completely unbothered by confrontation. The two men were still face to face, and Kelly was not ready to back down for nothing and no one. 

“Whatever.” Your dad hadn’t let Kelly escape his gaze for even a millisecond. “You know, maybe I’d have a bone to pick if I came here out of my own free will. This was just part of my 12 steps. Step 9: Make amends” your dad said with a smirk.

Despite not wanting to hear your father out for anything he had to say, the fact that he was here for his benefit and not out of sincerity was your final straw.

It took you a second to even fathom the possibility that he came here for selfish reasons, but once you did, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

You lunged at him and began unleashing. “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Now you solely saw red. While you were attempting to physically release all of your pain onto him, you felt Severide grab onto your waist and rip you off.

Your arms and legs were still thrashing about, despite him being far from your grasp. “Come here, get off of him. It’s okay.” Severide attempted to console you, but you were furious. 

“Y/N! Enough, he’s not worth it!!!” You heard Shay shouting from behind you. 

Once Severide planted you back on the floor, and you adjusted the stray hairs that had fallen all over your face, you began to catch your breath. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Casey shouted from across the apparatus, walking over with his arms out in question. “Is everything okay?” He glanced between Severide - who looked like he was about to punch a wall, his jaw clenched - and you. 

“Nothing, he’s just leaving,” you said while trying to slow your breathing and resist the urge to fight once again. 

Your father must’ve thought Casey was the chief because he put his arms up in surrender and turned on his heels. 

You abruptly turned around and raced your way into quarters as fast as you could, not comprehending what just happened.

Kelly put his hands on his hips, hanging his head low and then glanced back up toward Shay and Casey while squinting. He knew what it was like when family troubles came into the firehouse, so he felt for you. He didn’t like to see you upset, even though his feelings for you hadn’t been confessed. 

“Who was that?” Casey asked, looking between Shay and Severide as if the answer lay between them.

Meanwhile, you rushed through the doors between the apparatus bay and the inside of the firehouse heading straight for the bathroom. 

Everyone sitting in the lounge immediately shot a glance toward you but didn’t interrupt- you were evidently on a mission, the anger you felt putting a fire under your ass.

You entered the closest stall and closed the lid, taking a seat. The second you did so, the tears automatically began to flow, anger quickly evolving into sadness. 

You heard light taps on the stall, not even realizing someone had walked in. “Y/N?” None other than Severide. 

“I’m good Kel, I promise. I’ll be out soon” you said, trying to keep your voice from quivering. You didn’t want the man you had a crush on to think you’re a damsel in distress who needs saving. 

“Let me in, Y/N. Please.” You think he meant this literally and figuratively. He knew you were lying through your teeth when you said you were okay. “If you don’t want me to come in that’s fine, I’ll stand outside the door, but I’m not leaving you by yourself.” The door jolted and you could tell he was leaning against it, making himself comfortable.

You knew he wasn’t going to leave, given his stubborn character, so you dried up your tears as best as you could with 1-ply toilet paper and unlocked the door. 

He stood up and turned around to face you noticing that your eyes were puffy and your face was red. 

Kneeling between your legs, he looked up at you grabbing a hold of your chin. 

“Are you okay?” He asked intently, scanning your face for any hints of distress.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, Kel. 51 is my only family and I don’t want him to jeopardize that…” Severide urgently nodded in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face. “He won’t” he stated matter o’factly. “I’ll make sure of it.” He was determined to keep you away from your father.

“I’m worried he’s gonna turn back up here, or worse, get you in trouble. It’s not worth you going to the review board because my idiot father reported what happened.” You looked down at him through wet eyelashes, upset that you indirectly put him in this situation.

“He was the unwanted visitor at the firehouse, and everyone can vouch for that. It’s his word against multiple others.” You nodded in hesitant agreement, not fully convinced by his statement. 

“Stay at Shay and I’s for a couple of days, maybe reach out to your brother and see if he knew about him coming here. Or if you wanna stay home, I could get Jay to assign a covert car to your street.” Severide offering you options and comforting you is what you didn’t know you needed.

He looked up at you, glancing between each of your eyes while you attempted to make a decision. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay with you both. If that’s okay” you responded, sniffling the leftover snot in your nose after finally calming down. Just being in his presence lowered your blood pressure.

He nodded his head. “You good to go back out?” He slowly got up and held out his hand for you to take. 

“Thank you, Kel, seriously.” As soon as you stood up, you engulfed him in a hug, the combination of his natural scent and cologne flooding your nostrils. 

He rubbed your back up and down, his chin resting on the top of your head. He kissed your head then said, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” 

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

Hey everyone! I no... long time no chat :( I've had this in my notes for a while and thought I'd post it while I write up some other stuff. I haven't watched the new season's episodes yet, so maybe that'll help the creative flow! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year :) Again, here is a link to my master list!

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ you hate remus lupin, and he hates you. what happens when you get stuck in a lift together?

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 BREATHER!!!!! 𖦹 enemies to ?? 𖦹 fem!reader 𖦹 oh. em. gee. 𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠

༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 1.2k

prologue / hour 6 << pt. 8 -- breather >> IOU

༻¨*:· 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ·:*¨༺

"You what?" Sirius asks with wide eyes.

"I told her I was into her," Remus repeats.

Sirius grins, "And?"

Remus sighs and shakes his head, "It..." He purses his lips, "It didn't go well."

"Well... don't just leave me hanging. What happened?"

"She, um, she walked out of the lift and said she needed a breather."

Sirius claps Remus on the shoulder, "Well, that wasn't a no!"

"Mate..." Remus deadpans, "I don't think it's a yes, either."

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"So... Remus and you..." Sirius giggles over the phone.

You sigh, "There is no Remus and me, Sirius. I hate him."

"No, you don't," Sirius sings, "Plus, you didn't say you didn't like him back!"

"I told him I hated him, and I slapped him."

"Kinky!"

"Sirius, I swear to god, I will kill you."

"Kinky!"

You hang up.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You're miserable. You haven't seen your friends in two weeks, save for Sirius. It feels like the beginning again, where he nagged you to go out with him. Every day, it's always:

"Remus is sorry, please come out."

"I'll buy all of your drinks."

"Everyone misses you!"

"C'mon, stop sitting in self-pity and get out of the house!"

You always answer with:

"Then he should tell me, not have some twat tell me for him."

"I don't feel like drinking."

"Tell them I say hi."

"I'm not sitting in self-pity—I'm simply giving myself the space to process."

And so he gave you time. But it's been five weeks, and you haven't gone out once. So he's starting to lose hope—you're collapsing in on yourself like a dying star, and he's unsure what to do.

You're eating dinner when the phone rings. You roll your eyes, abandon your food, and walk to the side of the room in which it resides.

"I already told you. I don't want to go out!"

"Sorry?"

Your body goes hot out of embarrassment, "Shit! Sorry, I thought you were Sirius," Then the voice registers in your head, "You have five seconds to tell me what you want, Remus."

"I feel like I've given you sufficient time for a breather," He rushes out, "Can we talk? Please?"

You're silent, and he's afraid you've walked away, uninterested in whatever he has to say.

But you sigh, "About what?" You bite.

"Us?" His words are full of hope.

You're quick to crush it, "There is no 'us,' Remus. There is no more feud, no more interacting, there is nothing."

"Please—"

"No!" You interrupt, "No, you lost the opportunity to have an 'us' the second you decided to be a dick!" You yell into the phone.

"I'm sorry. Please, just give it a chance. Please, just... just talk to me."

"You have one fucking chance, Remus. Meet me in the building's cafe at ten. Make it worth my time."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Remus?"

"Yes?"

"If you aren't there at ten on the dot, I'm leaving. I don't care if you've just opened the door. If you are not inside that fucking cafe at ten sharp, I am gone, and you will never see me again. Got it?"

"Got it." He confirms.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your alarm blares at 9:30. You groan and try to throw it across the room, only to remember that it's plugged into the wall to prevent you from doing so. 

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Get a corded one," Remus laughs, "I used to have the same problem. Well, I used to just take mine and shush it right before turning it off."

You nearly spit your water out.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Fuck," You mumble, turning off the alarm. You don't want to do this—to see him.

You walk downstairs—you don't take the lift anymore—and you're hoping he hasn't shown up, but you see a beige jumper and sandy brown hair through the frosted glass of the doors. You sigh and enter the cafe.

Remus has been waiting for half an hour, and he's convinced he'll get whiplash with how quickly he looks up every time the bell chimes, indicating someone has come in. Finally, twelve people later, you walk in.

You look different than the last time he saw you. You've cut your hair, and you look bone-deep exhausted. He smiles at you, but you don't smile back.

After pulling out your chair for you, he clumsily stumbles back to his side of the table.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I am so sorry for... everything." He shakes his head, "I— I've been so stupid for the past year. I like you, I really like you, and I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I'm so sorry I was a dick to you. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel bad. I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I—I just want to be with you, and I'm sorry for my feelings of doubt ruining that opportunity. God, I am just so fucking sorry."

You almost want to laugh. His rambling is cute—you've always found it cute. Whether he's info-dumping on his latest book or just furiously talking about everything he's been doing lately. But the words slowly register, and you want to cry, then you want to scream, and then you want to cry again. 

"So you want to be with me?"

"More than fucking anything. This past month has been absolute torture. Every time I hang out with everyone, I hope I see your smile. You're never there."

"Yeah, it sucks when someone you like and care about ignores you."

Remus sighs, "I'm sorry."

"I don't think I can forgive you."

You see his heart shatter, "Please. Just—just one chance. Let me take you to dinner, and we can start over and— and..."

"And what? I'll magically fall in love with you?"

He frowns, looking down at the table, "Just give me a chance?"

"I'm not going on a date with you, Remus."

Once upon a time, you harboured feelings for Remus. That was months ago. Five months and four days ago. Then you got stuck in a fucking lift with him, and he confessed his love for you, and you felt like you were suffocating. All of the oxygen left your body, and any feelings died without it.

"We can be friends. I'm fine with friends. I just... I don't want to lose you."

You're silent for a moment, and everything runs through your head again. That first night when he attentively listened to your boring stories with a boyish glint in his eyes. The time he drove you home when you got wasted after being stood up. Teaching you to blow o's and how to roll. When he helped you ride a bike again. Your mind flashes to the night you realized you were in love—the night he went to your flat because you were sick. The night he took care of you, fed you soup—the night he risked getting sick for you. Your mind peeks at the memories of his smile, and your heart wanders around his laugh. It still warms your stomach, and you want to cry. You hate that he still has an impact on you. You've spent five months trying to forget him—forget your feelings. And it was all for nothing.

"Friends," You decide, "Let's try friends."

LETS. TRY. FRIENDS.

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[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 4

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

A/N: Taken pt. 4, anyone? This part and the next are really rampin’ up for somethin’ big. Warnings: Swearing, extortion, kidnapping, canon-level violence. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, or reblog.

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"I know where they are," Bucky says, closing his eyes, breathing in painfully slow in an attempt to ease his frantic heart rate.

"Well?" Tony asks indignantly. "Care to share with the class, Terminator?"

Bucky's left fist connects with the wall beside him, birthing an indentation of his hand in drywall. Clenching his jaw tightly, Bucky can't bring himself to form the words.

"The Siberian HYDRA facility," Natasha sighs. Her tone indicates she is nervous.

"Wait," Sam interrupts, "that's..." He trails off, eyes widening as he looks at a livid Bucky.

"The birthplace of the Winter Soldier Program," Steve confirms.

—

Much to Bucky’s displeasure, it takes a day for the team to prepare for Siberia. It takes another two for them to reach Siberia. It takes 10 minutes to realize the landing spot is compromised.

The quinnjet lands carefully in a clearing an hour outside the Siberian HYDRA facility, and the Avengers team quickly gathers their weapons and equipment to head out. However, once the jet’s ramp opens, they realize they’re not alone.

In front of the ramp, waiting for them in the snow, is a battalion sporting the HYDRA emblem. Each of the Avengers tense up when they see them.

A burly man steps forward. He’s tall and broad with a buzz cut and dark skin. His face looks like it’s been mauled by a bear with the scarring that litters it and the empty eye socket on the right of his face. The man smirks.

“Avengers, we’ve been expecting you,” the man says, a thick Russian accent lacing his words.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. The team had seen when your phone signal went out, but they all hoped it had meant it finally died. It seems, though, that it meant you’d been discovered.

The HYDRA soldier makes eye contact with Bucky.

“Soldat, welcome back. I come with a message for you.”

The team tenses when Bucky simply nods. He pushes the bile accumulating in his throat back down and stands up a little straighter.

“Dr. Frost sends his regards,” the man begins. “He would like to offer you a chance to have one of the hostages returned to you.”

“One?” Bucky snarls.

“One. Your wife and daughter are currently alive, and you may have one returned to you safely under one condition.”

“What is that?” Bucky grits the question out, left hand balling into a fist. He won’t be surprised if he finds later he’s dented his hand with how hard he is clenching his fist.

“The missus was given the opportunity first. Dr. Frost allowed her to choose whether she or your daughter be released. If you make the same choice she did, Dr. Frost will honor your decision and release one of the hostages.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Natasha asks the question no one wants the answer to.

“We kill them both.”

“Release them both and I’ll go with you,” Bucky says, doing his best to push his fear down. He has to stay brave, he reminds himself, so that you and Becca make it home.

The soldier laughs. It’s loud and amused. He turns around as if to say “This guy, am I right?” to his own men. Chuckles roll over the battalion.

“Dr. Frost anticipated you would offer yourself. Unfortunately, HYDRA no longer has any use for you, Soldat. You’re lucky your bitch is a strong negotiator, or you wouldn’t be given this opportunity in the first place.”

Bucky steps forward, ready to punch the man in the face. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, warning him not to lose his temper.

The man smirks and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, Soldat? Who do you pick? Your bitch or your brat?”

Bucky closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself down—trying to slow his thoughts enough to just think. He wants to kill the men in front of him. He wants to storm into the facility and kill this Dr. Frost that’s been mentioned. He wants his girls back. He figures his best chance is to make the same choice you did and later force his way into the facility as fast as he can to save whomever is left behind. But he has to offer a member of his family to the wolves on a silver platter before he can even do that.

“Shit,” he thinks. It’s an impossible decision for him. His wife or his daughter. He realizes immediately after recognizing the impossibility for him that such a choice will not be nearly as difficult for you.

He can imagine the choice being offered up to you: You or your daughter? He can imagine how you wouldn’t hesitate: My daughter. He can imagine how you would insist, however, that Becca be safely returned to him.

Bucky takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and focusing on the HYDRA representative in front of him.

“My daughter,” he says coldly. Confidently.

Bucky feels the team tense behind him. He can feel their horrified stares. He is aware they didn’t expect him to play along; he is aware they were preparing to fight. He is also aware that the chances of finding you and Becca alive are slim to zero if he doesn’t cooperate. So he makes the choice he knows you did. With a stinging pain in his heart, he chooses his daughter.

The man in front of him grins. It’s disconcerting and ugly.

“Very well. Meet at The Shrine at midnight. Do not be late. Come alone. Or we kill them both.”

—

It’s an hour before the meeting. Bucky sits in the corner of the jet with his elbows on his knees. He’s been crying. The look his team gave him when he’d turned around after choosing Becca continuously plays before his eyes. They don’t understand why he’s playing along.

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. If you were here, you’d comfortingly rub his back, whispering that he’s doing all he can—that he’s okay. If you were here, you’d assure him he’s playing the game because sometimes the game is the safer option.

He feels someone sit beside him and he lets out a deep sigh.

“Go away, Steve,” he says, not wanting a lecture or a pep talk.

“Not Steve,” comes the reply and he realizes it’s Barton beside him. He sits up and shoots Clint a confused look.

“The team’s confused,” Clint says. He doesn’t make eye contact with Bucky. “I get it, though. If it was Laura and the kids? I’d play it safe, too. Go along with their game. There’s a higher chance of saving them all when you only have to rescue one later.”

Bucky grunts in acknowledgment.

“I also get that Y/N would kill you if you did anything else,” Clint laughs humorlessly and Bucky nods in agreement.

“Laura’s a former agent. We talked about this kind of situation before. The kids always come first.”

Clint lets out a deep sigh before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“Y/N can handle herself, and she knows what she’s doing. You know each other well enough to know what the other is going to do. It’ll work out.”

Clint sends Bucky a sad smile and stands to leave.

Bucky runs a hand over his face and leans back in his seat. He really hopes Clint is right.

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ko-fi

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[the-little-ewok]

Push

Jake Lockley x F!reader (Lesser Marc Spector X reader / Steven Grant X reader )

Rating : M

Word count: 3500 (ish)

Warnings : Platonic relationship with hints that more may come (Jake), established romantic relationship (Marc/Steven), DID, divorce mentions, lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy, lil bit jealousy, mention of voyeuristic intentions

Summary : Set within the Tilt/Balance universe the reader finally meets Marc and Stevens third alter. But Jake has been watching for some time…

A/N : I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. What is contained here is based solely on my research, the MK show and comics, and is not intended to cause any offence.

To the anon who requested I hope you enjoy. Sorry if it came out a bit boring

A/N 2 : Reading Tilt / Balance will give you a bit of background to these characters but it isn't exactly necessary to enjoy this.

A/N 3 : While listed as F/reader due to the universe it's set in, this can be read as G/N reader also

~

"Sorry I'm late!" You shout, bursting into the flat, kicking off your shoes. "I swear give me five minutes and I'll be ready!"

You rush past Marc as you run to the bedroom, grabbing your outfit from your bag, already knowing that the chances of making your table reservation are slim given the traffic in London on a Friday night.

As you throw it down on the bed something makes you pause. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and when it does you groan.

"You cooked?" You whine as you inhale the delicious smell of food from the kitchen. "Marc, you didn't have to cook. I know I'm a bit late but we can still go out."

Turning to complain at him you pause, taking in the man standing in the sitting room, surrounded by Stevens books, wearing Marc's t-shirt and pants, looking at you with a smug smile and raised eyebrows. The man who wears your boyfriend's face, but isn't him.

The realisation sinks in quickly of who you are looking at causing your heart to thunder in your chest and your mouth go dry.

"Jake?

He nods in confirmation taking a step towards you, one you mirror by stepping back.

Marc has told you very little of Jake, only that he isn't sure he's ready for you both to meet, still getting to grips with knowing his third alter himself.

You assumed Jake already knew of your existence, and that he knew that you knew of his, but you found with the boys it was easier to let them take things at their own pace no matter how curious you were about meeting their third, their protector.

Suddenly faced with Jake you aren't sure what to do. Physically he still looks like Steven, like Marc, but there's something in his eyes, in the way he holds himself, that is nothing like either of them.

Steven always makes himself small, Marc holds too much tension, like he carries the weight of the word, but Jake, Jake is a statue. Jake is unreadable, at least for now.

"It's nice to finally meet. The others have a lot to say about you," he smiles easily, as though you already know each other.

"All good I hope?" You give an awkward laugh, unsure how to handle the situation. "Is um, are Marc and Steven okay?"

The little you knew about Jake was mostly that he fronted when the boys needed him, when it was dangerous, or too much for either of them to cope. When you'd left the flat for work both of them seemed as happy as usual. You'd left Steven pondering over books, and Marc had called you at lunch to make sure you took a break and had something to eat. Nothing had seemed particularly out of the ordinary, but then nothing in your life was ordinary anymore.

"They are fine. I just decided it was time we meet." Jake shrugs like it's nothing, but you notice an all too familiar twitch of his fingers, one that sets you on edge. Steven used to do the same thing when he was fronting and Marc wanted in, generally when you and Steven were arguing and Marc was itching for control to stop you both.

"So Marc agreed for us to meet? Because that feels like something he might have mentioned." You keep your tone light but you tuck your hands behind your back, curling them into fists the way Marc has taught you.

While you have no reason to fear his alter, the fact this seems suspicious makes you uneasy, especially given everything Steven and Marc have told you about Konshu's hold on Jake. Jake himself may not scare you, but Konshu did.

"We had a long talk about it today." Jake doesn't even miss a beat. In fact his lips twitch upwards as he glances down at your arms, hiding your balled fists behind you.

"I didn't think Marc would give up date night so willingly."

Jake winces, and that tells you all you need to know. Marc knows, but he doesn't have control to stop it. It makes anger spark in your chest on his behalf.

"Can I speak to Marc?"

Jake sighs and opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he has a chance to speak.

"Let me speak to Marc," you repeat, more firmly this time, trying to sound more confident than you really feel. "Or I will leave until you let them front."

A tense silence follows as you do your best to stare him down. Jake gives an amused chuckle at your stubbornness.

"I see why they like you. Alright, speak with him. We can continue this afterwards."

Jake's eyes roll and he lets out a choked noise before Marc stares at you, immediately jumping into an apology as if it's his fault.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, baby! Jake just took me by surprise before I had a chance to stop him."

"Took me by surprise too," you let out a soft laugh, that comes out more nervous than you intended, betraying your wildly beating heart. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?" He takes a few steps towards you, and this time instead of stepping back you walk forwards to meet him, allowing him to pull you into a tight hug.

"Yeah just a bit shocked that's all. I thought the days of me dropping in, not sure who I'd find, were gone. Little bit of excitement to my boring day though," you grin, trying to make him feel better as Marc regards you with worry.

"Dinner looks nice," you continue with a smile, gesturing to the beautifully laid out table, trying to distract him.

"I didn't… Jake cooked it." He grits out, clearly annoyed by the situation.

"Oh."

"I've got control of him now. It won't happen again. We can still go out if you feel up to it?" Marc offers.

You hesitate to answer, your mind whirring with questions. Why has Jake decided to intervene now? Was something wrong? Was it just pure chance? Why had he cooked dinner? Did he know it's your favourite meal or had that been a coincidence? Have you met before without knowing?

"Baby?" Marc prompts when you don't answer.

If he says no you won't ask again until he's ready, but now you're here, you have to ask the question. Maybe a little push is what they need.

"Marc," you start softly, taking his hands in yours, "I know you have reservations about Jake but he is a part of you, and I think it's important I get to know him too. I mean after all he has to live here and if I keep dropping in we should know each other."

"Yeah but not like this! Not just out of nowhere before we've even had a chance to talk about it." Marc scowls, his whole body stiff, as though preparing for a fight. You wonder if Jake is fighting to take over again.

"Nothing happens the right way with you anyway. I mean look at us, our relationship has been upside down, sideways and shaken," you laugh affectionately, and though Marc continues to frown his expression softens just a little. "Jake said you talked about it today?"

"Yes. But we didn't agree to anything. And you didn't agree to anything, so you don't have to let him push you into this." Marc cups your face gently, his eyes flicking between yours as he tries to get a read on you, on where your head's at.

"I know. Nobody's forcing me. I just…want to know all of you. You know how badly it turned out when you wouldn't speak to me." You regret the words instantly as Marc drops his eyes, still ashamed of his behaviour during the first few months of your relationship with Steven. You take his hands from your face, holding them and squeezing in a gentle reminder that you've already forgiven all of that.

"But look at us now. The three of us are closer than ever. Jake is the last puzzle piece here. Let me just say hello so he knows I'm not some crazy psycho who's going to hurt you. Plus I won't panic if he fronts when I'm around again. He cooked my favourite food." You shrug, trying to lighten the mood a little and still distracted by the mouth watering smell. Marc ignores your feeble attempt at making jokes.

"Only because the perverted bastards been watching the time you spend with us! I didn't tell him that!" He bursts out, glaring at the table as though it somehow personally offended him.

Your stomach turns uncomfortably at the thought of the intrusion. Marc and Steven had an agreement that when it came to you, for the most part, they would stay out of each other's relationships. That way you knew the time you spent with each of them was solely for that person. But the fact Jake knew things about you, makes you uneasy. Did Marc know the extent that his alter had been watching you? What exactly had he seen?

"Okay, that's… yeah…. weird." You wrap your arms around your waist, shielding yourself from the moment as your mind whirs with questions and concerns.

"You don't have to agree to this, love." You're drawn out of your unsavoury thoughts by Steven’s soft British accent. "Marc's having a word now. Well, several in fact."

"I know but… honestly Steven, I think it's time. And I have questions I want answers to." You glance at the food on the table with a frown.

"I don't know if I'll be able to take control back," Marc warns, clearly feeling he needs to step back in.

You give him a reassuring smile, hoping it comes off as confident. "I don't think Jake is going to hurt me. Hurting me would hurt you both and isn't he supposed to stop that?"

"It's not that. I'm just worried what he will say to you."

"Marc," you start seriously before breaking into a grin, "I very much doubt Jake finally confirming you actually do love Beauty and the Beast, is going to be that bad."

Marc doesn't take the bait, still too wound up in his head, and no doubt listening to the voices of his alters.

"It's not that. I just….I've done some bad things." And there it was. Marc was worried somehow Jake would reveal something he didn't want you to know. Something about the past he keeps carefully locked away and hidden.

You take Marc's hands in yours, squeezing tightly.

"I'm so proud of you. You didn't deny loving the film!" You coo, much to Marc's annoyance as he pulls a face at you, clearly unimpressed.

"Whatever happened in the past, whatever you or Jake or Steven did, it doesn't matter. I know you Marc Spector, and you are a good man. You all are. Now let's get this over with okay?"

Marc looks at you pleadingly, but you stand firm. This has to happen sometime, and while it's out of the blue, so had your meeting been with Marc the first time when you thought you were meeting Steven.

"He says one word out of line," Marc growls, leaving the threat unsaid.

"One word," you agree with a nod.

"And he only gets to eat dinner with you. This is purely an introduction."

You nod again, unsure of anything else Marc might be worried Jake would ask you to do.

"And I get an additional date night with you!"

You try and bite back your laugh but you can't help grinning at him. You could tease him later on his little bout of adorable jealousy. If you were honest, you would miss the time with him too.

"And just to remind you, I hate that film. And if you and Steven watch it one more time!" Laughing, you kiss him softly. Marc's expression relaxes in an instant. "You're sure?"

You step back, letting go of his hands and giving him a nod. You were as ready as you were ever going to be.

"I'm sure."

"We'll be right here if you need us, love. Just say the word," Steven assures you, before he steps back.

Watching the transition is hard. It's not like Marc and Steven, whose switch between them is so smooth it's hard to notice. It's not quite like the way Steven had described his blackouts either, back in the days before he knew Marc. But it's clearly still a difficult transition until Jake slips into place.

"Shall we?" Jake smiles, gesturing to the table, as though he'd never been gone. You suspect he's been listening the whole time.

~

So far you are yet to fully understand Marc’s hesitation at meeting his alter. You and Jake have made small talk and introductions while you eat. Jake had been perfectly friendly, and if you're honest, even a little funny. Although you were trying to make it hard for him, given the way he had jumped in, you still found yourself enjoying his company, at least a little.

"Why the introduction now?" You ask, sipping your drink. It's your favourite and you could assume that Jake had purely got that by coincidence, since Steven always made sure he had some in the cupboards, but combined with the food you suspect not.

"They are going to ask you to move in."

You choke on your food in surprise, snapping your head up to look at Jake, waiting for him to laugh. Only he doesn't. He stares seriously at you.

"Steven decided a while ago but Marc is scared to ask. He feels you might say no."

You swallow, trying to dampen the excited butterflies that erupt in your belly.

"I don't know how he got that impression?"

Jake shrugs, "you know Marc, he has a hard time believing people do actually like him."

You do know that. If you've learnt anything about Marc over your relationship, you've learnt that is a key component. Marc always thought people preferred Steven, and he had a hard time believing anything that suggested otherwise.

"Well, if they are listening," Jake's quirk of his lips let's you know they are, "then I wouldn't say no. I would love to live here, with them. I mean I practically do anyway!"

Steven had already given you a key to the flat, and other than the evenings they were gone, you spent basically every night here.

"That's another reason it was important for us to meet. You never know when we might run into each other." Jake smiles, but his words bring up a remembrance of your concerns. Have you met before?

"Well really you would think we had met already, given you know my favourite food and my favourite drink, probably a lot more than that too. Should I ask if you know what colour underwear I put on today?" The words have a clear bite to them and to your surprise, Jake splutters on his drink, a look of shock widening his eyes.

"I would never!"

You scoff disbelievingly, gesturing to the table.

"Oh come on Jake! Let's at least be honest with each other."

"I have limits," Jake insists, wiping his mouth. "I would never invade yours, or their, privacy that way."

You find that hard to believe.

"Except you already did," you point out.

Jake sighs, defeated.

"Not out of malice or perversion. The last time Marc let someone this close to him it didn't end well, and it took some recovery time. I had to be sure he was okay, and that you could handle it…us."

Layla. Marc has spoken about his ex wife a handful of times. You knew he left, and when they found each other again in the end they decided to part as friends. To your knowledge she was off travelling Egypt, working on archeological sites. Whatever the reasons they didn't work out, Marc had never mentioned, and you never asked. You felt it wasn't your place or your business. Another past item Marc kept locked away.

But it still doesn't make sense. You'd been dating Steven a long time, and Marc a while now too. Why had it taken all this time for Jake to decide to vet you?

"Well, you took your time," you comment, watching his expression.

Jake lets out a soft laugh with a nod.

"Not out of choice, Cariño. Marc keeps you well guarded."

That is easy to believe, and you understood as much from the handful of times the boys have mentioned their other alter. Jake was their protector, and he would do what needed to be done in order to protect them. You got the feeling Marc was scared that Jake wouldn't like you, and subsequently remove you from their lives. You hope you've at least made a good enough impression that that wouldn't happen.

"You swear you've never watched us…" you gesture with your hands, heat prickling the back of your neck, unable to say the words.

"Never," Jake confirms passionately, before he grins, raising an eyebrow, "unless you wanted me to? I'd be more than happy to oblige any desire you have."

It takes all your willpower and sense of decorum not to throw your drink in his face, and you imagine Marc is seething. Judging by the way Jake swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, he's fighting Marc for control.

"Let me guess, the boys not take that well?" You give him a smug smile and sip your drink, pleased just a little at their protectiveness of you. Jake holds up his hands in surrender with a nod.

"I seem to remember you allowing Marc to speak to you in the same way."

You open your mouth to protest before closing it again, knowing Jake is absolutely right. When you first started dating Steven, Marc would often make little remarks in much the same way to wind you up, until he realised he had fallen for you, then he'd stopped entirely until the night it all came tumbling out.

"Marc helped me and Steven come together. He gets a free pass on that time in our lives."

"You are good for them, for us," Jake smiles, a soft warm genuine smile, perhaps the first true warmth he's given you all evening. "When you found us everyone was unhappy. We were in a dark place, Marc especially. When we-"

"If it's not something I don't already know, then I don't want to know. Marc doesn't want me involved in his past and I'd like to respect that. Please," you interrupt.

Jake tilts his head, like a dog who doesn't understand. "You're not even a little curious?"

You shake your head. Curious would be an understatement but you had meant what you had said to Marc. The past was the past, and it didn't matter now.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is now and if Marc or Steven wants me to know something, they will tell me."

Jake smiles and leans back in his chair, regarding you proudly. You get the feeling you just passed another kind of test.

It isn't the last of the evening either. Now and again Jake says something, asks something, that feels a little off, leading you somewhere, pushing you, testing you. It makes for an exhausting dinner, and nothing like the relaxing meal you had planned to have with Marc. You do your best to be honest, truthful, and loyal.

All you can do is hope you pass the exam.

~

When the food is finished you help Jake clear away the plates, feeling at least a little accomplished that their alter seems to tolerate you, if not like you a little.

"Does this mean I'll see you more often now?"

"Why, do you want to?" Jake grins. "Sabía que no eras inmune a mis encantos "

Laughing you shake your head, "I never said that. It's just I don't want you to feel like you can't front with me around. I know Marc doesn't like it, but I can talk to him. If we are going to live here then we should do it as a family."

"I appreciate that," he pauses for a moment before he adds "and your trust. You didn't have to meet me tonight but you did."

You smile, "I've learnt that sometimes with those two, it's better just to get the truth out of the way."

Jake smiles, regarding you for a long moment with an expression you can't quite place. It leaves you with a warm feeling in your chest.

"I should go," he says finally, "Thank you for having dinner with me. If you ever change your mind about wanting an audience-"

"I won't." You reply quickly, cutting him off. Jake raises an eyebrow before he lets out a soft laugh.

"Never say never cariño. I look forward to changing your mind." He takes your hand and leaning down, brushes his lips against your knuckles.

In the blink of an eye Jake is gone, and Marc’s furious frown falls into place, his fingers squeezing yours.

"I'm going to murder that bastard! If he thinks he can flirt with you-" Marc cuts out as you laugh, drawing him into your arms to hug him tightly.

"You have nothing to worry about, Spector. I only have eyes for two men in my life." He still frowns unhappily but you persevere, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Don't let it get to you. There's still a whole lot of date night left you know? I can think of something I want for supper."

Marc's expression changes in an instant, his fingers gripping your hips a little harder.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile, pulling his mouth to yours for a much more insistent kiss.

You try not to wonder if Jake is watching.

If you enjoyed reading please consider reblogging and letting me know your thoughts! Remember reblogs keep writers writing!!

~~~~~~~~

*Spanish - I knew you weren't immune to my charms

Thank you to @mandinlore for being amazing and beta'ing this for me!!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Summary - you and Spencer have it out and you make a decision about your future together. Spencer seeks out another victim while you spend the day with Jesse.

A/N - I promise Spencer is going to redeem himself eventually but he’s going to be an asshole a little while longer. Bear with him, he’s been through a lot of trauma.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - drunk Spencer, swearing, guns, arguing, use of “bitch” towards reader, tears, murder, making out.

WC - 5.1k

Chapter 14 - Bad Guy

Upon entering the house you quickly discovered the origin of all three crashes you’d heard from the front lawn. 

The first one was the living room lamp which had been knocked on the floor, thankfully it appeared to still be intact. The second was Spencer’s keys which he’d seemingly launched at the fireplace, gratefully missing the large flat screen and now lay in a pile on the floor. 

The third sound had come from one of the dining room chairs being shoved aside, as though it had been in Spencer’s way on his journey to the stairs. 

One of his boots was at the bottom of the staircase and the other half way up which could only mean he was in possession of the Colt. Starting up the stairs and you found his wallet a little further up and on the top step you found one of the disposable phones. On the landing was a torn condom wrapper. 

You rolled your eyes, your suspicions about Spencer’s evening activities confirmed but you were pleased he’d at least had the decency to use protection with the other woman. You bent down and picked the shiny purple foil up between your fingers. 

You could hear him grunting and pacing heavily inside the master bedroom and you pushed forward, knowing it was better to get this over with than draw it out. 

As expected he was holding the Colt in one hand, dangling from his fingers as he paced back and forth. The fingers of his other hand were pressing firmly against his temple. 

“Looks like you had a fun night, sweetie.” You spat the last word, proffering the wrapper at him. 

“At least you didn’t have to witness a make out session on your front doorstep.” He rolled his eyes. 

“But I didn’t fuck him.” You growled. 

“You think that makes you better than me?” He slurred, wobbling on his feet and falling against the wall. 

“I think we’re both pretty abhorrent people to be perfectly honest, Spencer. But I didn’t go quite as far as you.” You dropped the foil on the floor, watching it spiral to the carpet. 

“You say that like you wouldn’t have given the chance. If I hadn’t come home when I did, are you saying you wouldn’t have brought him in and fucked him?” He may have been slurring but his sentences were surprisingly coherent. 

“No, Spencer, I would not have. I don’t let strangers jump into my pants.” You huffed. 

“Your loss.” Spencer scoffed, pushing himself away from the wall. “He looked like he’d be good in bed.” 

“And Mary looked like a whore.” You clucked and to your surprise Spencer started to laugh. 

“She is.” He agreed, swinging the gun around. “She threw herself at me. Dropped to her knees for me before I even had to ask.” 

“Lucky man.” You rolled your eyes. “So, we aren’t fighting?” 

Spencer continued to laugh, but it soon turned from his usual light chuckle to something much darker. He started advancing on you and you felt your stomach turn as his eyes blackened and you found your back up against the wall, Spencer raising the Colt and pressing to your temple. 

“Oh, dear, sweet, Y/N.” He smirked dangerously at you. “You think you get to make out with another man and we’re just going to be ok?”

“People in glass houses, Spencer.” You spat, not letting him intimidate you.

“These people are supposed to think we’re happily married. We’re supposed to stay under the radar.” He wobbled on his feet again, his breath smelt like scotch. 

“What part of staying under the radar is fucking random girls?” You scoffed. “Tell me, did you do it in the bathroom? Up against a wall outside? Hell did you just take her over the goddamn bar for everyone to see?” 

He jammed the Colt against your head, creating a little thud as it hit your skull. You winced a little but were soon scowling at him. 

“You don’t get to be angry at me, Spencer! We either both cheated on each other or neither of us did. You don’t get to have me and a string of other girls.” You yelled, not to be deterred by the gun. 

“I get to do whatever the fuck I want.” He slurred. 

“Then so do I.” You replied. 

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now? To blow your fucking brains out? It would be preferable to hearing you bitch and moan all the time! I found this place for you! I didn’t want to live here, I did this for you! I found Green for you. Everything I have done has been for you and you repay me by acting like a fucking bitch!” He spat right in your face and your anger reached fever pitch. 

“You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me you are joking right now.” You raised your voice again. “You think I owe you? You think because you tracked down Green and made me a murderer and because you did this one fucking nice thing for me, I owe you? Go to hell, you asshole!”

You slapped him hard across the face causing him to stumble but it was more likely due to the alcohol. You used it to your advantage and pushed past him while he found his footing but he was soon grabbing you with bruising force around the wrist, jerking you back to him. 

“Don’t you dare talk to…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering to the hand of the wrist he was holding. “Where the fuck is your ring? My grandmother's ring! Where is it?” 

You swallowed thickly, you forgot you’d taken it off. You tried to tug your arm free of his hold but he was too strong. 

“It’s in my pocket.” You spat. 

“Why did you take it off?” He suddenly let go of you, his previous anger seemingly fading in an instant and he softened as he stared at you with large, sad eyes. 

“It’s not like it’s a real ring, Spencer.” You slipped your hand into your pocket and pulled out the band but you didn’t put it on. 

“It’s a symbol.” The hand holding the gun fell to his side and once again he used his free one to massage his temple. 

“A symbol?” You sniffed, feeling tears welling behind your eyes. “Of what? Of how you own me? Of how I’m never going to be free of you? Spencer, I feel trapped, I feel like a hostage. I don’t want to do this anymore. Please, if you ever cared about me, please let me go.” 

“What so you can be with that backwoods asshole? I don’t think so.” He shook his head. 

Your tears broke free and you cursed yourself for it, not wanting to show Spencer vulnerability. You half expected him to mock you, to tell you that you were pathetic, but what happened instead was much stranger. 

His face fell and he dropped the gun on the floor quickly coming closer to you, his hands coming up to cup your face which caused you to flinch a little. 

“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He started stroking your tears with his thumb. “Please don’t cry.” 

You knew he was trying to be nice but you could only feel fear towards him. The speed in which he could switch between these two personalities was frightening. It was as though he’d suffered from some kind of mental break, the old Spencer was clearly still in there but the trauma from his time in prison had created a new persona, a terrifying man who could kill without remorse, and one in which you had no doubt would one day kill you as well. 

Your tears continued to fall, your legs shaking as you wished he would just leave you alone. 

“I am sick of this hot and cold, it’s like being with Jekyll and Hyde!” You snivelled. “I don’t know what mood you’re going to be in from one minute to the next! I am sick of this and I am sick of you!” 

“I don’t want to make you cry, princess. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He held you tighter, looking like he might cry too. 

“Spencer,” your lip quivered. “Do you love me?” 

He inhaled sharply before swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Very much so.” 

“Then let me go.” You choked on a sob. 

“I can’t.” His own voice cracked. “I can’t let you go. We’re bound to each other, Y/N. After what we’ve done, we’re bound together forever.” 

“Goddammit.” You sniffed and Spencer continued to wipe your tears. “You’re right and I hate that you’re right.”

“We belong together, sweetheart.” He whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“No,” you swallowed, freeing yourself from his hold. “I’m in this with you, I get that, but I don’t want to be with you. We’ll continue this sham marriage because we have to, but you and I are not together, ok?” 

“What because he’s so much better than me?” He suddenly flipped again, clenching his jaw as he spat his words at you with venom. 

“This isn’t about Jesse.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Like hell it isn’t!” He yelled. “Come on, what does he have that I don’t? Tell me, Y/N, what’s so fucking special about GI Mountain Man?” 

“For starters he isn’t a controlling asshole!” You spat back. “In fact, do you know why I like him? Because he reminds me of you, jackass! He reminds me of the Spencer Reid who used to buy me popcorn when we went to the movies and drape blankets over me when I used to fall asleep on his couch. He reminds me of the guy who always noticed when I got a haircut and always told me how good it looked even when I hated it. He reminds me of the person you used to be! The sweet, kind, thoughtful man that you used to be, Spencer. I miss him, I loved him! But I don’t know who you are anymore.” 

You were sobbing by the time you were through, gasping for air as you tossed the gold band you’d still be holding on the floor. Spencer’s expression didn’t give a lot away, you had no idea what he was thinking. And when he suddenly pushed you back against the wall and slammed his lips against yours, you were powerless to stop him.

He kissed you frantically, like it was the only thing tethering him to reality anymore, like your lips were his one final lifeline. You let him kiss you, knowing if it grew more heated and ended up in bed you’d let him have that too. Because no matter how much you hated him, you would always love him more. 

“He’ll never be me.” He spoke against your lips, hands starting to paw at your body. “He’ll never be me.” 

As expected he was soon leading you back to the bed but what wasn’t expected was how he didn’t try and undress you. His hands continued to wander your body and his lips barely left yours longer than to gasp for air every few minutes but he didn’t take it any further. 

You made out until you were both falling asleep, still fully dressed on top of the covers. And with his last ounce of energy he pulled you into his arms, muttering under his breath “he’ll never be me.” 

***

You had a fretful night sleep at best, waking early and sneaking out of bed so as not to wake Spencer. You used the bathroom down the hall to shower rather than the en-suite and once you were dressed you sat out in the first floor patio with a book as the sun started to rise. 

You’d found the gold wedding band nestled into the carpet and for some reason you decided to put it on. You chose not to think too much into that. 

It was almost noon when Spencer dragged himself outside in yesterday's wrinkled shirt and slacks, his usually messy hair a complete bird's nest. He groaned against the onslaught of the sun, rubbing his fingers against his temples. 

“Jesus Christ, it's bright.” He padded out onto the patio barefoot through the bedroom door. “Yet really fucking cold.” 

“Hmm.” You closed your book with a sigh. “Hungover?” 

“Most definitely.” He grumbled. “I’m starving, you want something to eat? I can make us something, although I may need to throw up first.” 

“You can’t cook at the best of times.” You rolled your eyes. 

There was a thick tension between you after last night and you weren’t sure if Spencer was ignoring it or he didn’t notice. 

“True. I am a genius though so I could probably figure out how to cook eggs.” He chuckled but then immediately groaned when the effort caused his head to throb. “Fuck I drank a lot.” 

“I noticed.” You pushed yourself to your feet and cradled the book under your arm. “As enjoyable as eggs cooked by a man who has never cooked eggs before sounds, I have plans.”

Spencer huffed out a large breath, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. 

“Let me guess, GI Mountain Man?”

“His name is Jesse. But yes.” As if on cue the doorbell rang.

Spencer swung around, ignoring his hangover as he suddenly started back inside. You hurried after him, catching up to him in the bedroom and grabbing his arm. 

“No, no. You’re not going anywhere.” You tugged him backwards. “Just leave it, Spencer.” 

He looked like he might argue with you, it wouldn’t be out of character as of late for him to do so. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened but then he softened again in an instant.

“Fine.” He shrugged, stepping aside out of your way. “If this is how you want this to be, then fine.”

“I think it’s for the best.” You rolled your lip between your teeth as the doorbell sounded again. “I’ll be there in a second!” You called down. 

“I wish you could understand that everything I’ve done has been for you. When are you gonna stop making out like I’m the bad guy here?” He rubbed his temples again. 

“Maybe when you stop acting like one.” You shook your head, did he really not see how he’d been behaving? Did he really think you were the one being unjust? “Why don’t you go see General Store Barbie, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with her. Or is Bartender Barbie? Oh you’ve got yourself a little two-for-one play thing.” 

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “I’m too hungover to fight with you.” 

“Wow, maybe you should drink more often.” You scoffed as you turned on your heels and headed to the door. 

Spencer simply watched you go, wishing there was something he could say or do to stop you. But he knew if he kept fighting with you, he would only push you further into Mountain Man’s arms. 

He needed to prove to you that he could be better, that he wasn’t the enemy and that the two of you could be happy together. But despite his high IQ and all his smarts, he had no idea how to make this right. He needed to find a way to show you he wasn’t the bad guy. 

But the problem was, he was starting to think that he might be. 

***

After drinking copious amounts of coffee and indulging in a forty five minute shower, Spencer felt something akin to normal again. He made a vow to himself to never drink that much again. 

He briefly contemplated trying to find Mary but quickly decided against it. Instead he jumped in the Nissan and drove two hundred miles out east to Colorado Springs.

Colorado Springs was home to a rather unsavoury character named Edward Grimes. Grimes was a child molestor who had flown under the radar of the cops for years mostly because his young victims were too terrified to speak out. And coincidentally, Spencer was angry and needed a kill. 

He didn’t usually kill during the day time, it left too much room for witnesses. But the rage boiling in his chest needed to be sated somehow, and if it wasn’t Grimes who took the brunt of it, it may well be Jesse. But Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to kill someone in a town he'd just arrived in, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Grimes was in his home, watching the tiny TV on his grubby couch in his boxers and stained wife beater vest. Spencer observed him through the window for a while, feeling sick to his stomach at this cretin. 

He scoped the neighbourhood for a while, and after noting his neighbours weren’t home, he tried the back door and found it unlocked. Of course, because when you were a monster, what’s the worst that could walk through your door? 

Grimes was about to find out. 

Killing Grimes hadn't been as satisfying as Spencer would have liked. Usually his victims begged him to spare their life, apologised for their crimes. But Grimes simply smirked at Spencer and told him he’d do it all again if he had the chance. 

And so Spencer sliced his throat so violently he almost severed the man’s head in the process. 

He’d gotten into a routine of cleaning up the crime scene and disposing of the bodies. He always drove far away and buried his victims in National parks or grasslands where it would be a long while before their bodies were discovered. He’d drive elsewhere and burn his clothes and cleaning supplies. 

Getting Grimes’ body into his car was difficult on two counts. One, it was daylight and there was much more chance of him being seen. He tried to limit exposure by opening the garage door and backing the Nissan up as far as he could in front of Grimes vehicle. Secondly, Grimes was close to three hundred pounds, not taking into account dead weight. Spencer was stronger than he looked but he would be surprised if Derek Morgan wouldn’t struggle with this activity. 

He laid the corpse on a garbage bag to stop the transfer of blood throughout the house and dragged him slowly from the living room, through the kitchen and into the garage. The garage was narrow and Grimes' car took up most of the space so getting the body passed to his own vehicle was the hardest part. 

No, scratch that, the hardest part was trying to hoist a three hundred pound corpse into the trunk. Honestly, Spencer wasn’t even sure how he did it and he didn’t look forward to having to get him back out again. He finished cleaning up and changed from his bloody jeans and t-shirt into a button down and slacks before leaving the house exactly as he found it. 

He then drove a further one hundred and forty miles north to the Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forest where he found a quiet and secluded area of the woods to dig Grime’s grave. 

By this point it was getting dark and it was nearly a four hour drive back to Crested Butte and Spencer was sure he would fall asleep at the wheel if he attempted it. Instead he drove further east into Idaho Springs and got a motel room for the night. In the morning he would take care of the cleaning supplies and soiled clothes on his way back. 

He had another long shower, feeling utterly exhausted from the day and collapsed on the bed. He pulled out the burner phone and typed in a number. He wasn’t even a little surprised when it rang. 

***

Butte 66 Bar and Grill was situated a few miles out of town by the Crested Butte Mountain Resort. Jesse drove you to the base of the mountain and the two of you took the ski lift up the peak. He’d told you the views from up there were some of the best you’d ever see and it did not disappoint. 

You felt like you were on top of the world yet isolated, able to see nothing but the slightly frosted tips of mountains as far as you looked. The grill was mostly empty as it was off season and it allowed you to feel as though you and Jesse were the only people on the planet. 

You ate and talked about nothing and everything all at once. Of course you kept your story vague, didn’t talk about Spencer, mostly kept asking him about his life. 

He’d been born and raised in Butte, but unlike most of its towns folk, Jesse had managed to escape. He’d left for college in New York where he’d stayed until five years ago when his mother suddenly passed away. He’d returned to the Butte for his father, who it transpired was the kindly older man named Fred who had served you in the diner yesterday morning. 

Jesse was an only child and his mothers death had almost broken his father. So he came home to keep the diner afloat and helped out with snowboarding lessons in the winter, a sport he’d partaken in since he was a teenager. 

His dad recovered but Jesse never left. He told you that he felt close to his mom here and leaving wasn’t an option for him anymore. He lived in the little apartment over McGill’s which had been his parents place before he was born. 

After lunch you walked around the resort for a while and once back in town you’d gone to another of Crested Butte’s many bars, The Eldo. And when he’d invited you back to his apartment you couldn’t say no. 

You cuddled up on his couch and he put on a movie although you didn’t watch much of it in lieu of making out. You made out for so long and you were so turned on, but Jesse didn’t seem in a hurry to take things further. Sometimes when you wanted something, you just had to take it. 

You let your hands wander from where they’d been around his neck, down over his strong chest. You pushed yourself against him, trying to convey what you wanted. When your hands reached the bottom of his shirt and started toying with the hem, he pulled back from your lips with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” You suddenly felt insecure at the way he was looking at you uncertainly. 

“Nothings wrong.” He tried to smile. “In fact everything is very, very right. I just…I don’t want you to think I did all this today because I want to get you into bed.” 

“You don’t want to get me into bed?” You smirked at him and it caused him to laugh. 

“Oh no, I very much want to get you into bed, hell I’d settle for this couch. But I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy. Because I’m not.” His eyes were serious as they looked at you. 

“I don’t think you're that kind of guy.” You reached and took hold of his hand, sensing there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it. 

He threaded his fingers in yours and sighed. 

“I told you that I’ve had my share of complicated relationships. My last real one really did a number on me and I don’t make a habit of getting close to people. To that end...” He chewed on his lip. “I haven’t…it’s been almost two years since I’ve…you know…with someone.”

The blush that crept to his cheeks was just about the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. You brought his hand to your lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. 

“Jesse, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” You reassured him. 

“Oh I really want to. You have no idea how much.” He chuckled. “Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted something so much in my life. I’m just, uh, worried I might be…rusty?” 

“You are completely and utterly adorable.” You pulled him closer by his hand and kissed him again.

“Adorable, great. That’s just what every man wants to hear from the woman he wants to sleep with.” He laughed as he kissed you.

“Being adorable doesn’t make you any less fucking sexy, Jesse.” You hissed as he deepened the kiss, laying you back against the couch. 

You could feel him straining against his jeans as his hands started to wander down your chest. They glided over your torso and were soon on the waistband of your pants. You bucked against his hands, encouraging him to undo them. His tongue plunged deeper inside your mouth as he started working on the button. 

Just as it popped open and his hand was roaming towards your panties, the burner phone in your jacket started to ring. Jesse tore his lips away from you and looked at you with a slightly sad smile. 

“I can only imagine who that might be.” He sighed as he spoke. 

“I don’t have to get it.” You rolled your lip between your teeth as the device kept ringing. 

“But you should, right?” He sat back on the couch with a shrug. 

You nodded and pushed yourself to your shaky legs. Your jacket was slung over the back of one of the bar stools at the island that separated the kitchen and living areas. You pulled the phone out of your inside pocket and put it to your ear, turning your back on Jesse who was still on the couch. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” Spencer’s voice came down the phone, sounding utterly exhausted. “I won’t be back tonight so feel free to spend the night with your mountain man.” 

You glanced over your shoulder to where Jesse was now getting to his feet. He motioned towards the bathroom before making his way over there. 

“Did you hear me?” Spencer spoke again. 

You waited until the bathroom door was closed before you replied. 

“Yes I heard you. Let me guess, you’re with Fire Crotch Barbie?” You scowled. 

“Oh Y/N,” he chuckled. “The carpets don’t match the drapes if that’s what you’re inferring. But no, I am out of town.” 

“Out of town? Why would you be…” you trailed off as your chest tightened at the realisation of why Spencer would be out of town. “Goddamnit, seriously?” 

“Needs must.” He replied simply. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” You spat.

“Fine.” Amusement danced in his tone. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodnight, princess. Don’t miss me too much.” 

You hung up the phone just as the bathroom door opened again and Jesse stepped out. He slowly crossed the room towards you. 

“Your husband?” He asked with a sorrowful smile.

“Yeah.” You nodded stiffly. 

“You have to go?” 

“Yeah.” You lied although you weren’t sure you meant to. “He, uh, he locked himself out of the cabin so I need to go let him in.” 

“Let me walk you.” He went to turn to grab his jacket but you placed your hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s ok.” You forced a smile. “This place seems pretty safe and it’s like a four minute walk or something. I can take care of myself.” 

“Ok.” He nodded, eyebrows furrowing together. “Is this a good idea? You and me and whatever this is between us?” 

“I have no idea.” You told him honestly. “I don’t want to be another complicated woman in your life.” 

Jesse chuckled softly, moving closer to you and cupping your face in his warm hands.

“If someone had told me yesterday I would even be considering seeing a married woman I would have laughed in their face. Complicated really is the last thing I need.” He inched closer, resting his forehead on yours. “But you make complicated seem so simple.” 

When he kissed you again your legs wobbled and he took your breath away. For a brief second, you almost stayed. But maybe Spencer calling had been a blessing in disguise. Just because he’d slept with someone else didn’t mean you should too. Two wrongs don’t make a right, even if this particular wrong felt oh so right. 

Spencer was the bad guy in this story, not you. And it wasn’t fair for you to use this wonderful man in front of you as a pawn in you and Spencer’s sick games. So you tore yourself away from his lips and grabbed your jacket, reluctantly forcing yourself towards the door. 

Maybe you and Jesse would have another chance, maybe he’d be the hero who swept in and saved you from Spencer. But villains didn’t make a habit of backing down without a fight, and it shouldn’t be down to Jesse to have to defeat him for you. 

Spencer may call you a princess but you were no damsel in distress. And if you wanted the monster defeated you were more than capable of slaying him yourself. 

But you weren’t sure you wanted to. 

I spend the night, yeah, doing ninety in a sixty five,

Ignore the lights 'til I'm by your side.

Because when you take this out on me my, knees get weak,

With that heart of kryptonite.

I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

And I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

You paint the scene, with the colors of an enemy,

All over me, and for your friends to see.

I took just one misstep and now I'm hanging by my feet,

Out of sight and out of reach.

I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

I fought for you,

I kept you safe at night.

I would have risked my life,

And you made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

Yeah, you made me the bad guy.

Guess I forgot, guess I forgot,

History repeats.

Once lost and found, once lost and found,

We're too blind to see.

Just show me how, just show me how the villain is me.

And I stole the moon,

I made the stars align.

I showed you how to fly,

And you made me the bad guy.

When I fought for you,

I kept you safe at night.

I would have risked my life,

And you made me the bad guy.

You made me the bad guy.

Now do they even know,

You made me the bad guy.

Ha, got it,

You made me the bad guy.

@bubblebuttwade @daddy-dotcom @andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @thebloomingeagle

[nuvoloso]

What's Happening?

Oikawa x m!reader (he/him/his)

A blind date? Why the hell not. Y/n is a wing spiker that plays city volleyball, not for the school, and Iwaizumi decides to play matchmaker.

The ~~ means a change in view or time.

Word Count: 4465

~

Why the hell is Iwaizumi so insistent on this? Y/n thought, as the volleyball player had begun berating him about going out with one of his friends. Iwa had been doing his damn best to get y/n to agree to a blind date with someone on the volleyball team, but he'd seen the guys on that team and nobody had really piqued his interest. Yet, here he was, again, for what felt like the thirtieth time.

"Just say you will, just go out to dinner or a movie or something simple. I've just got a feeling you'll like him, plus you've got nothing to lose. Nobody approaches you anyway." Y/n scoffed, giving Iwa a good shove in the process. He only laughed, "Oh what, you're mad I won't lie to you?"

"I'm mad you said that so loudly, we're in the middle of the hallway." Y/n complained, Iwa only rolling his eyes.

"Well if you'd just accept my invitation I wouldn't have to gloat about your terminal loneliness." Y/n couldn't even think of a witty response to match the absolute destruction Iwa brought with every word he spoke. "So, you're in?" He asked, y/n finally giving up and accepting his proposition.

Iwa grinned triumphantly, and nearly turned to leave, but y/n grabbed his arm, and stuck a finger in his face, "But I swear to god, if this goes south I will break every single one of your fingers so you'll never get to play volleyball ever again." Iwa let out a long whistle at y/n's threat, obviously not very feeling very threatened by it.

"I wouldn't be trying so hard if I didn't think it'd be successful. Just give him a chance, his first impressions aren't the best." Fantastic. "I'll send you details when I confirm with him, ok? Does after practice tonight work for you?" Reluctantly, y/n nodded and let Iwa go. They parted ways and headed towards their classrooms then, y/n's anxiety skyrocketing at the thought of going on a date with someone he didn't even remotely know.

He tried to relax during classes, telling himself over and over that it would be ok because Iwa must be close friends with whoever it was, but the pit in his stomach just kept growing. What if he actually liked whoever it was, but it wasn't mutual? What if he couldn't make conversation and it was just super awkward the whole time? A swarm of 'what ifs' crowded his mind and he didn't get much work done. When the day finally ended, he about booked it out of the classroom, hoping that getting to his practice would help take his mind off things.

In his rush, he ran straight into the back of someone just barely taller than him who'd randomly stopped in the middle of the walkway.

"Shit, sorry. Are you ok?" Y/n asked the stranger, helping him pick up a handful of flyers he had dropped at the collision. He looked to be around the same age as y/n, messy brown hair and gentle features, he looked incredible. There wasn't a single mark on his fair skin, and even though his hair looked untamed, it seemed to fall exactly where the stranger willed it to. He also had a pretty lean build, y/n thought he'd probably be really good at volleyball if he didn't already play it.

The stranger flashed him a smile, "I'm alright, I shouldn't have stopped like that, sorry. Thanks for the help though, you can keep one of them if you'd like." Y/n looked down at the papers he was helping pick up and noticed they were flyers for the volleyball club's match this weekend against Shiratorizawa.

"Are you on the club team here?" Y/n asked, though he felt it was a stupid question given that he was promoting it by hanging up these flyers.

The stranger took no offense to his question though, and nodded. "I'm actually the captain, and the main setter."

"Uh, wow, I'm sorry I'm taking up your time, I'm sure you're busy." He shrugged, the two of them soon standing after having gathered all the loose flyers. "If you want," He offered, "I could take some of the flyers and hand them out to guys on my team, I'm sure they'd like to watch." The captain gave him a slightly confused look, but happily handed him a small stack of the papers.

They started walking towards the main entrance of the school and continued talking about volleyball, the captain immensely interested in y/n's team.

"So you play on a team composed of people from all around Miyagi, not one neighborhood or school in particular? And its aged 16-24?" Y/n nodded in response to each of his questions. "That sounds like it could be a lot of fun, but who do you play against? How do you guys practice if everybody's spread out?"

He explained it the best he could, their system was slightly more complex than the school's. "Those of us that live close to each other practice everyday, and once a week we choose somewhere in Miyagi to meet up and practice as a group. There are other groups in Miyagi that we play against, and some from other prefectures too. City league sports are actually pretty popular, but a lot of people don't know they exist because they're wrapped up in their school's club."

They kept going back and forth until they'd reached the separation point, the stranger headed over to the gyms, and y/n headed out onto the sidewalk to get to his own court.

"Before we go our separate ways, what's your name? I'd like to join one of your practices sometime if that's ok." Y/n was honestly elated to hear that from the captain. Sure Iwa had told him all about how great their team was, and even a little about this captain, but y/n really wanted to see it for himself.

"You can just call me y/n, I'm in class 3-B. What about you?" He replied, extending his hand.

"Oikawa, Tōru." He stated, firmly shaking y/n's hand. "I'm in 3-A, It's nice to meet you y/n, I look forward to playing with you sometime." Oikawa left, off to his gym, and y/n off to his court. He was contemplating texting Iwa to cancel his blind date, not wanting to go out with someone on Oikawa's team after having just met him. He'd rather just go out with the captain, but with the way he looked? There was no way he didn't have a girlfriend or something already.

Y/n tried to keep his mind off the date and the captain, he just wanted to play his game without any distractions.

He was unsuccessful. He was a wing spiker for his team, and he missed well over half of the sets he got. Luckily it was just a regular practice, not the full group one, that was in a few days still. He repeatedly apologized to his teammates, but they didn't hold it against him.

"You seem pretty lost today, what's going on?" His setter asked, while everyone was getting some water.

Y/n sighed, looking up at the sky and taking in the clouds. He loved that they practiced outside, it was so much nicer than being stuck in a gym. "A friend of mine who's on the volleyball team at school has been begging to set me up on a blind date with someone on his team, and I finally agreed to it. It'll be just after we're both done today."

"That sounds like fun! Why aren't you more excited?" Y/n shrugged,

"I met the captain of their team today, and he's everything I could want, but there's no way someone like him is single. I just think it'll be weird if I go out with someone on his team while we just met, I don't know." He mumbled, but his teammates understood his unease about the situation.

One of the older guys on their team, he'd just turned 21, clapped him on the back. "You never know, maybe he's the one you got set up with!" Y/n hadn't even thought about that, Iwa did talk about that captain pretty often...But there was still no way he was single, surely. "Just don't think about it to hard, it's always been your downfall. Live in the moment, y/n!" He weakly smiled at his teammates, thanking them for the confidence boosters.

They got back to their practice shortly after, and y/n's tact started returning.

About an hour and half later his practice had come to an end, and he finally got to start freaking about his blind date. When he got home, he destroyed his closet looking for something to wear, not loving any of his options. He stared at his clothes for several minutes before he realized they weren't going to change by him staring at them. He opted to take a shower and come back, hoping he'd maybe get an idea along the way.

When he'd finished, he threw on a pair of sweats and went back to his room, where he was surprised to find someone sifting through his clothing pile.

"Iwa?" He questioned, guessing that it was his friend by the back of his head. The spiky hair wasn't hard to miss, and soon the intruder had turned around and waved to him.

"Your sister let me in, I figured you'd need help finding an outfit." Y/n rolled his eyes, but didn't get in the way, secretly grateful for the help. "You should wear this, you're going to dinner so it's better to be like business casual. I know that's what he's going for..." Iwa mumbled, now kicking through Y/n's shoes until he found something he liked. Y/n took the outfit from his hands so he could more thoroughly dig through all of his belongings.

"I'll go put this on I guess...?" Iwa was too captivated by his current task to say anything, so y/n just disappeared back into the bathroom to change. He'd picked out a black button down that y/n had forgotten he owned, and a pair of pleated off-white slacks. When he'd assembled it, he actually quite liked it, albeit a bit surprised by Iwa's ability to style an outfit.

He went back to the room, Iwa complimenting him on how it looked. "Now, just add some accessories and keep a few buttons undone and you'll be ready. I set shoes by the door for you, so let's go." Y/n nodded, quickly putting on a few of his favorite rings and a small silver chain, leaving a few of the buttons on his shirt undone like Iwa had told him.

Iwa lead him out the door and they walked for a few blocks, y/n soon knowing where they were going. He'd seen the restaurant a few times, not actually having gotten a chance to try it yet. Iwa sent him off on his own once they were across the street from the restaurant.

"Good luck! Don't take it too seriously, have some fun ok?" He vigorously shook y/n's shoulders before pushing him towards the crosswalk. Y/n gave him a final wave, and made his way to the restaurant.

~

Oikawa checked his watch, he was pretty early. He didn't mind though, he'd be able to get a good table and get some time to figure out how he wanted to play tonight. He'd agreed to the blind date because it was Iwa suggesting it, he knew that despite the dick he was, Iwa wouldn't set him up with someone he wouldn't at least somewhat like. After earlier though, he didn't really want to do this. Bumping into y/n was the highlight of his day, he'd immediately found the guy more than attractive. He acted distant though, as if he didn't want to get close to Tōru for some reason, but he couldn't be sure, they'd just met.

You're not here for him though, focus. As much as he wanted the evening to already be over, he would entertain his date and ensure they both had a nice enough time. He'd hate for it to be a total waste of time and money so he told himself he'd stick it through no matter what.

Several minutes passed, and it was nearly the agreed upon time now, Oikawa becoming slightly nervous he'd be stood up even though they didn't know each other.

"Eh? Oikawa? What're you doing here?" He'd been looking at the menu, but the familiar voice jarred him. He looked over, and noticed the waitress was gesturing for him to sit, and saying she'd be back to take our orders in a few minutes.

"Y/n! I'm, uh-my friend set me up on a blind date, what a coincidence seeing you here. You must be meeting your boyfr- I mean your partner or something. You look great!" Oikawa felt his face heating up, he shouldn't have just assumed that y/n was queer, and now he'd made things weird, awesome.

Y/n didn't seem phased by his words though, in fact he started laughing. "That damn Hajime." The realization soon settled on Oikawa, y/n was his blind date. Here he'd been, hoping that it would happen, and he had gotten exactly what he'd wanted.

"Well, it's good to see you again, so soon!" Y/n smiled, "What're the odds?" Oikawa chucked, relieved y/n hadn't reacted strangely to his mumblings before. Y/n opened his menu, sifting through the options, but couldn't seem to pick one out.

"Can I recommend something?" Oikawa asked.

Y/n looked up at him and immediately closed his menu, setting his gaze on Oikawa, lightly laughing as he accepted his invitation. "God please, there's so much to chose from I can barely think." Oikawa giggled and pointed out a few options that had caught his eye, but he noticed that y/n wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. He just kept his eyes on Oikawa while he spoke, it felt like he was more focused on his movements than what he was actually saying.

Oikawa quieted when the waitress came back and asked for their orders, y/n gesturing for him to go first. "I'll have a bowl of Nabeyaki Udon, please." She smiled at him, and moved her focus to y/n.

"I'll have the same, thank you." She nodded, and left the two once again.

"Not very creative, y/n." He commented, y/n quickly rolling his eyes.

"I couldn't decide! If it's good enough for you to eat, I'm sure it'll be more than fine for me too." Y/n nervously laughed, Oikawa noticing him shifting in his seat and playing with his hands. He was nervous. Oikawa couldn't decide whether he wanted to say to say something or not, he didn't want to make things worse by any means but he didn't want y/n to be that nervous to be on a date with him.

He pursed his lips for a moment, then did his best to offer the nervous a kind smile. "Why're you so shaken up? Didn't want it to be me?" He joked, hoping y/n would pick up on the tone in his voice.

Thankfully, it seemed like he had. "No, no, I'm glad it's you! I mean, it's not a bad thing that it's you. It's actually kind of nice since we already met." He rambled, but the nervous energy that surrounded him seemed to fade. "I just, I dunno, I couldn't imagine that you could possibly be...single, I guess." He said, Oikawa's eyebrows raising in surprise. "No offense! It's just that you're so, charismatic and uh, yeah you're- fuck." He buried his head in his hands, Oikawa chuckling at his state.

"It's ok, maybe I was just waiting for you to come along..." He smirked, y/n's head moving from his hands onto the table, the tips of his ears having turned pink. "Aw, blushing for me? I'm honored!" Y/n couldn't even attempt to look at Oikawa.

"Will you shut up for a few minutes so I can fucking relax?!" Oikawa laughed, and reached his arms out to rest his hands on y/n's.

"No." When y/n felt Oikawa's hands on his own, he immediately looked up at him. He didn't try to move his hands out from under Tōru's, which he was grateful for, but he couldn't seem to string any words together.

The waitress saved him, having reappeared at their table with the food they'd ordered. Oikawa retracted his hands from y/n's as his and the other's bowls were placed in front of them. They both thanked her and started digging into their food. Things were quiet for several minutes, neither really wanting to attempt conversation while they ate, but Tōru could tell the tension between them had largely dissipated.

After they'd eaten, they made small talk, about hobbies, favorite colors, all the usual. Eventually, the check came to them and Oikawa managed to pay for everything, much to y/n's dismay. They'd argued as much as they could've until the waitress had shown up again and Oikawa forced the bill out of y/n's hands.

"I'll pay next time, it's only fair." Y/n said as they were leaving the restaurant.

"Next time? Another date, you mean?" He questioned, hoping to see y/n change colors again. This time though, y/n put a sliver of confidence in himself and his response.

"Obviously, you couldn't keep your eyes or your hands to yourself. Of course there'd be another date." The way he raised an eyebrow at Oikawa reminded him a bit of himself, but he loved that y/n could dish it back to him. "Anyway," he ventured, "Can I walk you home? Unless you wanted to do something else."

Truthfully, Tōru didn't want the night to end. He longed to come up with activity after activity so he could stay with y/n, he had a calming presence which helped ease Tōru's ever-crowded mind. He was always thinking about volleyball and school, always about how he could be improving or what he'd been doing wrong. But tonight - tonight he hadn't thought about anything except for y/n, making him laugh or blush, or just listening to what he had to say.

"Hey, are you there? Did I scare you or something?" He looked up, now realizing he'd totally spaced out and didn't even know for how long.

He blinked a few times, and looked around. Apparently they'd ended up walking to some park he didn't immediately recognize. "Sorry, I just got distracted, my bad. Also, where are we?" Y/n lightly laughed and looked around, apparently also not having realized they'd kept walking directionless.

"This, oh this is the park where I practice! I guess I came here out of habit, the court we use is over there." He pointed over to where a net was set up and there was a rectangle of concrete with painted lines. "So, uh, did you want me to walk you home? Or...?" Ah right his question from earlier. Let's try not to forget to answer it this time.

"Well, I don't have plans for the rest of the evening, and it's not super late yet... But if you do, then we can totally-"

"I don't." Y/n interrupted, his clam gaze making Oikawa a bit anxious. Ever since they left the restaurant, the vibes had completely switched, Oikawa was forgetting who he was and what was going on while y/n flirted and stayed collected. "I've still got my keys, I could grab a ball if you want to hit a few." Finally, something Tōru understood. If there was one thing he couldn't look bad doing, it was volleyball.

"If you insist." He replied. "Try not to get too intimidated though, I'm one of the best y'know." Again, y/n didn't falter at his attempt to fluster him.

"But you haven't made it to nationals like Miya has, so why should I be scared?" MIYA? Y/n knew someone who played at the national level? Now he wasn't so sure about what he'd said. Of course he knew he was a fantastic setter, one of the best in his own opinion, but he'd not played against or with someone who was a regular at nationals.

At an attempt to collect himself, he waved off y/n's comment. "So what? Just because I haven't made it to nationals yet doesn't mean I'm not the best setter out there."

"I guess we'll just have to see." Y/n shot back, before jogging over to the storage shed near the court. He dug out a volleyball and tossed it to Oikawa, who gently received it without a second thought.

"You said you're wing spiker, right?" He asked, y/n nodded. "What kind of set do you like?" This time, y/n only shrugged.

"You'll just have to figure it out, 'best setter out there'." He sneered, walking onto the concrete platform and towards the right side. Oikawa scoffed and went off towards the left. I'll find out, on the first one. He told himself, though it wasn't the most realistic, but he always like a challenge.

Oikawa set, and y/n spiked over and over again, Oikawa priding himself on figuring out what y/n liked within his first (but likely his second or third) set. They only stopped when it had gotten too dark out to see very clearly over the net, both of them having a slight sweat. As y/n put the ball back, Oikawa asked him more about how he knew the person from nationals, it bothered him that y/n might have had a setter that he thought was better.

"Oh, Miya? God I don't even remember how we met, I think he plays for a city team in his spare time." Y/n said, "Yeah, we met at a tournament. His team beat us, but only barely, we did five sets and it was down to the last, the score I think was 20-22 in the end." Oikawa whistled, he knew how exhausting a game like that could be. "Anyway, after we played against each other, he approached me and almost begged me to let him set for me." He laughed to himself, but Oikawa's mind was everywhere. "We played a little after that game and became good friends, he always updates me on his tournaments and games."

Oikawa's fatal flaw was that he had a massive god-complex, and right now it was definitely being complex. His mind was about to take a total downward turn when y/n punched his shoulder.

"Don't look like that, you idiot." Y/n sneered.

"What? Look like what?" He demanded.

"Don't get jealous. Don't get upset just because I know some great setter, I can't even begin to compare you two and you've never even met him. Don't get your tits in a twist so quickly, now come on it's dark, we're both tired, and it's obviously past your bedtime." Tōru's mind went blank, even if he could think up a response, there'd be now way he'd bring himself to say it. He hadn't been put in his place like that before, sure Iwa gave him reality checks every now and then, but nobody could read him like that.

Y/n started walking, but turned to face Tōru and held out his hand, waiting for him to take it. He didn't say anything, just waved his hand around and stared at Tōru until he finally took it. Y/n's hand was warm, and strong, just like a spiker's should be.

"Where's your house?" Y/n asked him, his face void of any snark or ego that it had only moments earlier.

"It's up by the school, two streets north." Y/n nodded and confidently lead him in the general direction. "How are you so calm all of a sudden?" He found himself asking, the events of their date confusing him.

Y/n chuckled as he looked to the sky. "After you ripped the bill out of my hands at that restaurant, I knew you weren't as serious or intimidating as I had thought you were when I first met you. Our conversations and getting to hit your sets after we ate was so much more relaxed, I just felt like I could be myself. I don't like formal situations like sit down dinners at fancy restaurants, I didn't even know what to wear, Iwa picked this out."

Hearing that Hajime had picked out what y/n was wearing made Tōru feel better, he thought he was a total disaster today but he hadn't been alone. "I thought this was going to be easy, but you just keep making me forget how to think." He lightly squeezed Tōru's hand at the comment,

"That's probably a good thing, isn't it? You probably think way to much." He sighed,

"You're definitely right. Guess I'm extremely lucky for having you physically run into me today."

Y/n smiled, "You're so welcome."

They approached Oikawa's neighborhood, and he directed y/n to his house, y/n only letting go of Oikawa's hand when they got to his front steps. "Thanks, for tonight. It was fun, I'm looking forward to next time." Y/n said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

"Me too, even though I'll probably see you again tomorrow, right?" Y/n's face dropped, he'd totally forgotten they went to school together.

Thoroughly embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to laugh it off. "Eh, true- our classes are neighbors." He took a deep breath and faced Tōru, "Well, I'll see you later. Have a good night, Oikawa." He barely got a chance to reply before y/n had turned around to leave, so he grabbed the shoulder closest to him, and turned the boy to face him again.

"What, no goodbye kiss? We're basically dating now right?" Y/n turned nearly purple at the comment, definitely not having expected it. He tried stuttering out some kind of response, so Oikawa put him out of his misery and tugged the gent towards him.

He could feel y/n's anxiety melt away as they kissed, his arms wrapping around Tōru's waist, his in return folding around y/n's neck. Y/n couldn't believe what was happening, but he was beyond happy that it was.

[wil-o-wispy]

The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (You are here)

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.

Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)

w/c: 10.8k+

There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.

There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.

All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.

You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.

You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.

“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.

“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”

“I did.”

“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”

You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.

“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”

You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.

“Will you just cut to the chase?”

There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”

You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”

Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”

“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”

That can’t be good.

“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”

“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.

“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”

You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.

What kind of ploy is this?

Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.

“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.

You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”

Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.

“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”

The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.

A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.

You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.

That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.

“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”

Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.

Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.

“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”

You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.

Where have I seen him before?

Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when corned in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”

Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.

“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.

“Can’t say I have before today.”

“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.

You turn back towards the camera.

“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”

The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.

You look at his face, his eyes…

You stop breathing.

You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.

Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.

How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?

You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.

It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.

“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.

You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”

When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”

Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.

“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”

“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

Silence.

You let out a deranged cackle.

“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”

Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.

“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”

You hum and step a little closer to the camera.

“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.

“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.

“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”

It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.

You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.

You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.

“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”

“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.

“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”

Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass. 

Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.

The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action. The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.

The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.

While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.

The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.

“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”

Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.

“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.

“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”

Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.

“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.

“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”

“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.

“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.

You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.

There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.

The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.

The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.

Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.

You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.

“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.

You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.

You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.

Too close.

Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”

You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.

“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”

You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.

“Fair enough. But I have questions.”

You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.

“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”

“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I’m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”

You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?

“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.

“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.

“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”

Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”

You nod back. “Alright. You first.”

Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”

“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”

“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”

“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear then?”

“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.

“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”

Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?

“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.

You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.

“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”

“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”

You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.

“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”

“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”

You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”

You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.

“Who knows that he’s your father?”

“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.

The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.

“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.

"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything went to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."

Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.

“… so he saved you?”

His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”

A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.

Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.

Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”

Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.

“How long have you known about Wesker?”

“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”

“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”

“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”

You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.

“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”

“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.

You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”

“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”

The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.

“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“

“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”

You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.

“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.

Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”

You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.

“Yeah! She did!”

You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”

“Is that your question?”

“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.

“Do you know anything about Project W?”

You take the silence as a no and continue.

“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”

You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.

“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”

Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”

“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”

Silence.

“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”

More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought. 

“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.

“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.

“Do you understand everything I just told you?”

“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”

You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.

“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”

“What was your price?”

Everything.

“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.

You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You give Jake a wry smile.

“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip.

Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.

“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”

“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”

You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.

“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.

You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”

“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.

You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”

That I know of.

You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”

“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”

“You look older.”

“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”

“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.

You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”

The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”

You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.

“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”

Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”

 You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”

Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”

“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”

Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”

The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.

“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”

Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.

“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”

You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.

“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.

You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.

“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”

You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.

You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”

Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.

“Jake!” You scold.

Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.

“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”

Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.

“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”

Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.

“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”

“No promises, now go!”

You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.

As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.

“Where is Muller, Doctor?”

You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.

“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”

“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.

“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”

“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.

“Then why didn’t you run?”

“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.

Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”

“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.

Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”

“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”

Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”

As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.

“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”

Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.

He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.

It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”

You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”

“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.

Better yet, who’s ‘he?’

You roll your eyes and humor him.

You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.

Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.

“Where… that’s not…”

But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.

The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.

 The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.

You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.

“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.

All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.

“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.

“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.

“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.

“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.

“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”

You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.

“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”

Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.

“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”

The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.

“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”

“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.

Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.

“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”  

“Director, you need to stop-”

“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.

“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”

You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.

“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.

When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.

“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.

You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.

Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”

Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.

“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.

Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”

“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”

The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.

You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.

“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”

Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.

“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. “Take her back to-”

Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking, a rush of water and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.

All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.

You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.

Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.

“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”

Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.

In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”    

You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.            

“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”

A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move and you heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest it's beating so fast.

You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.

Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.

The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.

You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.

You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.  

You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.

You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.

The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.

a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)

If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.

Tag List: @killerwendigo

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

the counterpart

chapter 5 — violator

summary: can you guys tell i really want that fucking violator record?????

word count: 2,8k

nsfw-ish, reader is a pining mess, smoking (that's a given at this point, sorry), kissing, viktor is so sweet it makes me gag a little into my mouth. aaaand of course. my beloved heavy dialogue. (i’ll proof read this properly a bit later)

part 6 —

It starts with a breathy “I don’t want you to go.”

Evolves into a bitter “I don’t want to go either” and lingers, warm and slightly chapped, upon the curve of your shuddering shoulder. And then he’d hold you through your pouts and frowns, kissing sweet tickling redemption wherever swollen lips could reach, each touch a gentle apology for having responsibilities that he had to attend to instead of staying bedridden in your grasp. 

Made you wish the smell of his skin soaked through your sheets.

If only you didn’t smoke that much. 

And then he’d bite you teasingly at each collarbone, taking his delicate, slow revenge — for every claw pulling at his hair, skin and soul. And the room would smell of sex, taunt and laughter: until limbs were finally demerged, cane was rescued from under the bed and returned to its departing owner, goodbye kisses were traded hastily in the doorway. 

He wanted to stay. Whispered you that much before reluctantly crawling out of your room — boneless and marked up, no doubt claimed by you in every possessive way known to man, with a special emphasis on that tangible, purple-ish one coating his neck and shoulders. 

You despised the morning lecture he had the following day as if it were the other woman stealing him away from you. Even made a taunting spiteful comment about that figurative mistress when he came back after attending to her, and your room was filled with jabs until he was gone again, just as reluctant — if not more, actually — as he was the night he first left. Something kept telling you it was going to become a regular occurrence, though. 

A joyful loop — it lasted for a few eventful days, made ‘bed-classes-Viktor’s arms’ your new route of choice. Didn’t even give you the chance to catch when exactly ‘Play chess with me tonight’ has become the new ‘Fuck me senseless’. 

And all the talking. Gods above, the talking — hushed, gentle conversations on the comforter of your bed, or on that famous windowsill; mostly by a smoldering mouthful of nicotine or steaming cups of coffee — an ingenious aftercare both of you cherished deep enough to soak in it for hours. That’s how you found out the meaning behind every single one of those Czech little swears he spilled into your flushed ears. However the less harsh words weren’t revealed to you just yet — he mumbled something illegible and turned away with a strangled cough, which had only confirmed your suspicions about them being obvious endearments. 

And when the exchange would inevitably resolve into a heated destruction of your poor bed (that was now creaking worse than it ever had) — he’d drive you back into madness, the sweat of its breathless aftermath haunting you until both participants stepped into the cramped space of shower and fingerprints soothed the soreness of lower backs wet and slow. You’d kiss the water off the tip of his handsome nose — to help him push it into your soul and investigate. Not only figuratively too: well, if one’s soul is located between their breasts, that is. 

Four slothful days of tender prying — and his cautiousness had finally paid off. You’d listen less and talk more, and his attentive eyes were drawn to you like ones of a doomed man, shining with rejoicement every time you’d fall a tad bit too deep into your thoughts, and your voice would put him to sleep — all calm, deep exhales against the warmth of you. Dark strands poked the side of your face while long arms curled around your waist, trapping you discreetly under his resting form. However, that could never stop him from memorizing every insignificant little something you whispered even through his peaceful snuffling. Needless to mention the things you told him while he was still awake, conversing with you softly while hands stroked a tease up your spine damp and shaky. 

A game of chess requires just as much sweat as a confession or an intercourse. 

And it escalated so rapidly. The literal definition of a Fool’s Mate, and that’s precisely what you were reduced to by his side — a fool, careless enough to make two exceptionally thoughtless moves, letting your whims take over when you first had him, then allowing him to come back for more.

But you were fine with getting checkmated like this. Content, even. As long as you lied sprawled out beneath his pale slenderness, talking him through and after it, then sharing a game of chess over and over again. Until fingers couldn’t gnaw at skin or move the pieces anymore, every limb shook and throat felt sore from speaking or whispering tender filth. 

The lovely loop broke on Friday, when your opponentship reached a week’s mark. 

You skipped both of your morning lectures — being responsible isn’t transmitted sexually, even when one is fucking the most duty-bound person in the world. Especially when the weather was not nearly encouraging enough to crawl out of your precious compact cave: the summer heat had finally built up to a season of lavish August rains, and the droplets were drumming against your window with all their pent up strength. They lured you into staying in bed until noon, dreamy gaze nailed into the wet glass, fingers toyed with a pen in a failed attempt to finish some commissioned essays and dreadful remnants of your own work — anything to find a distraction from inevitably returning to the empty spots of the room where Viktor liked to rest after committing the deed that was now the reason to your freshly obtained slight limp.

So silly of you. To still expect him at your door all ready to proceed with the routine, to overcome all the weather obstacles just for you. 

Eyes flew back to the chess board. It still hosted the crime scene: that checkmate you put him in before he shed you off your clothes to claim vengeance for it. 

The rain kept thudding with rhythmic judgment. He’s not coming today. 

But was it really so bad to wish he did? To lack him — fully, semi or not clothed at all? To miss the way it felt to lie on his side, still warm after he was off to classes? To replay the sound of your name on his accented tongue, uttered through moans, gasps for air and laughter? To long for a boy that knew you so vaguely with a passion of that extent — almost as impressively potent as one of a suitor who hasn’t seen their lover in decades? Whatever he was willing to share — you’d feast upon it, no questions asked – if not for a single plea for addivities. 

So easy to get lost in his endless patience, to confuse the simple crave for tenderness with a selfish crave for him — the first man to treat you carefully in a long time, to make you feel wanted for your brains, then for beauty. And even the latter didn’t involve disrespect or haste — he’d always prefer trembling touches over rough grips, so thoroughly attentive to the detail. 

“I love it when I make you think so hard you frown,” he once whispered with a curt smile, thumb a swipe over the wrinkle on your forehead. You would quizzically pull away from the board, one eyebrow cocked at him in guarded confusion.

“Are you that keen on making me suffer?” 

“Perhaps only a little,” he’d confess, fingers snaking nimbly behind your ear, carefully brushing through a single soft strand — had you almost crushing the pieces with your weight as you leaned into the offered sweetness, lids fluttered as eyes rested underneath them. 

“You didn’t strike me as a violator,” you murmured with a cheeky tilt to the side, caught his lips aiming for the exposed length of neck, let them settle for whatever little skin they could reach from the other side of the board. The check he had yet to run away from was awaiting him angrily beneath the tangle of touches. 

“Excuse me?” he countered your tone, letting you slide away from his attack with tactful reluctance. 

“Violator?” It didn’t ring a bell. Only earned you a confused pout and a guilty chuckle. “That one sexy Depeche Mode album?” It didn’t help either. He shrugged, wearing a nervous smile — like a skittish student about to fail a test. A compatibility one, apparently. 

“You’re kidding!” you exclaimed, mouth wide open in exaggerated astonishment. 

“I’m afraid I’m not,” he shrugged again, sharp shoulders defensively angled upwards. Made you ditch the unresolved trap of his king, blocking his view on the board by crawling over it with rushed inelegance. The issue at hand was far more urgent than a possible victory in four moves. 

“You,” a single finger pressed steeply into his chest, “need immediate musical rehabilitation. A very severe one at that.” 

Warm laughter seeped out of him loud and generous, thin body quivered briefly against the firm glance of your perception. Serious cases call for radical measures, and thick eyebrows arched resentfully when you shrunk away from the kiss, uttering a taunting ‘ah-ah.’

“Fine then,” he accepted his penalty with a calm sigh, returning your artful grin. “Rehabilitate me. Do whatever you deem necessary.” 

Pleased with the obtained permission, you allowed him to claim a fleeting peck before leaving his intrigued side. Still had some mercy in you, or, rather, simply couldn’t resist the soft temptation. Crossed the room to tend to the old record player you seized him eyeing earlier, ran through a pile of vinyls to pick out the prettiest one, lovingly caressing the crimson flower on its cover. You took a lot of pride in owning that sacred thing, recalling just how hard it was to get your eager hands on it. 

Careful not to scrape it, you put your precious record under the needle nice and slow — as if it was fragile enough to shatter from the smallest touch. But what a joy it was to finally have it spinning languidly on that dusty platter, to hear the first notes reward you with their rich sound. Couldn’t fight the urge to stop hips from swaying clumsily, hands up in the air as his cried to find your waist and take the lead — yet right leg cramped more than your dance lured in. So Viktor stayed on the bed, smile so spellbound the corners of his mouth almost hurt, and you swore the amber in his eyes shined brighter than it ever had before, struggling to pick a single pretty sight to settle on.

You waltzed into his embrace, letting him catch you after a twirl. Went limp for a second as he pulled you down, then climbed atop him in an already familiar straddle. Stayed still to admire the spill of dark hair all over the crumpled sheets, smiled back at him from the high of your slight raise. So beautiful and all yours to play with — both chess and heart, but you only preferred the former. Showed him that much with a lingering kiss — a sloppy touch of tongue against the pointy shape of his upper lip. Throaty whimper tasted deliciously of submission. Lewd. But not too much. Just enough to send the throb of your pulse straight between parted thighs. 

“I could watch you dance forever.” So luscious. His heart might be safe for now, but yours sure kept inching closer to a stroke with every new sweet nothing he uttered. 

“Is that the only thing you want to do to me?” you were suddenly armed full of taunt again. “To watch me dance?”

“How rude of you to vulgarize my attempts at being romantic.” 

“Perhaps I was hinting at something civil too. Not my fault dirty is the first direction you think in.” 

“You’re insufferable. To think I would ever act upon such obscenity—“

“Oh, so you’d rather I get up? Fine, bask in celibacy for all I please—“

“Wait, no! That’s not what I meant! Come back here—“ 

You chuckled at the memory, sinking deeper into the pillow. Teeth bit at the pen you were still fidgeting with, clenching hard when you recalled just how insistent he was on proving you right. Needless to mention that neither of you got to Enjoy The Silence that heated evening. 

But now there’s a pile of papers lying where he used to, keeping you silent, cold company. And you fucking missed him — bad to the point where it gets concerning, bitter for the way you failed to guard any strings from possible attachment. Though who said you should’ve prevented that in the first place? Was there really some heavy tacit agreement to stop whatever this was from escalating further, from offering you that soft solace? Sure, maybe you could use a change of pace — but was that really necessary when you were always the ambassador of everything rapid and unstructured? 

How does love even come? Was it too big of a word to define that smoldering little thing slowly melting your enclosure from the inside? How much were you actually willing to show him — without creating new obstacles for him to tiptoe around, or covering the sensitivity he finally started to disrobe — only with your consent, so grateful for the little bits of you he finally got to meet? 

Your world wasn’t ending where his started. They could coexist — or merge, even, into an environment full of that scary four-letter-word, if only both participants cared enough to fertilize it with mutual pining. 

And, well. 

One of them already stood chin deep in that formula. At the door of a pitifully longing another. Knocked thrice — politely intrusive as always. Whispered a raspy ‘It’s me’ — as if you could ever confuse that arrival with someone else’s or fail to catch the clack of cane against the scraped floor. 

No lecture, even a morning one you tend to blissfully oversleep, would force you to jump out of bed as fast as you rushed to let him in. Fingers yanked at the handle so hard it slipped out of your excitedly shaking grip, and god was he a mess — soaked shirt clung to the lean frame so tight you could count his ribs through the sheer drenched white. Rain still leaked pointwise out of the ruined waves of his hair, falling to the ground and gathering there into little puddles. Shoes squelched when he stepped inside with a hesitant gentle smile — slightly embarrassed for dripping mercilessly at your parquet floor. So shy all of a sudden, he contemplated whether the chaotic state would dispose him of a greeting kiss, but you dispelled his worries with your lips and savoured the ozone he was now flavored with as a low hum invaded your chuckling mouth.  

What are the odds. Think of the devil. 

“I’m sorry,” the devil purred against your grin. You wiped it off your face with the little damp beads he dropped on your chin.

“What for?” 

Eyes slid to the hand he sneaked slowly from behind his back, sighing apologetically when the content of it was revealed to you wet and tortured. A beautiful ruin of missing petals in the careful hold of his fingers. What should’ve been red to the point of scorching the vision was now plucked out and lacked in life. A single rose left intact among the numerous bare spiky stalks. 

“If only I brought a coat or an umbrella to cover them with… Such a waste — I assure you they looked decent before my foolish omission, but that’s not relevant anymore, I suppose.” 

You cradled the bouquet — or, rather the remnants of it— gently against your chest. Couldn’t care less about the spikes or the rainy spot it instantly stained your shirt with. 

“It’s the effort that counts.” 

“Perhaps, but you only deserve successful ones. And I didn’t manage to accomplish that.” 

How stupid of him to think that mattered to you at any capacity — oh no, you laughed and kissed him hard once again, stealing a pleasant gasp of awe. Tugged at the buttons of the ravaged shirt and pulled them slyly open, hand met the shivering skin of his chest with a delicate tingle. But you didn’t let him get into it while he was still so miserably sodden. Felt him murmur something regretful when you stepped away to swallow some air. 

“How about we hop into the shower before you manage to accomplish a cold?” The offer stood before him with a sheepish wince. As if Viktor could ever refrain from your tempting kindness. 

—

So how does love come? Abruptly? With a twenty four hour notice? Relentlessly? Gently? With a dagger to stab you right in the heart?

Well, yours did with his eyes closed. With water in his mouth and your name on his greedy lips. With enamored moans of rapture and tender praises when both bodies returned to bed wrapped in fluffy towels, sharing secrets and fondness while the inanimate witnesses watched you quietly from their distant corners: thirty two chess pieces, his cane and two lonesome roses — one drawn on the cover of your most precious vinyl possession, the other rested calmly in the sheer vase. 

—

tags: @thehistoriangirl @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

[southsideserendipity]

Can u write an imagine with Kelly ? Where Yn father is an alcoholic and she hasn’t talked to him in years and he just turns up to the firehouse and stalks her ? X

Drunk & Disorderly (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: Your alcoholic father shows up at the firehouse, persistent on making amends.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of throwing up, violence, swearing, drunk driving, Kelly being protective AF <3.

Word Count: 4k

“Shay, we are never drinking that much the night before a shift again” you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation.

“Oh cmon, Y/N, we can handle a lil hangover” she joked with you. “Besides, wasn’t that drinking game fun?” She asked you the question in a suggestive tone, wiggling her eyebrows in the process. 

“I’m not sure, I can’t exactly remember last night’s events too well” you giggled, trying to rack your brain for a hint as to how the night played out.

“Well what I remember extremely vividly is you and Severide not being able to stop flirting with each other.” Shay said this without taking her eyes off of the road, but you knew she wasn’t as annoyed as she was making herself out to be. She loved the idea of the 2 people she loved the most getting together. 

“I can’t confirm or deny my actions or the events that occurred last night” you led in a serious note, trying to cover up your high-school-like crush on Severide in a playful manner.

“Oh just fuck him already, Y/N! Blame it on the alcohol!” Shay encouraged, using her hands to help communicate the message. “I know you like him, and who’s to say he doesn’t want you. You’re a hot piece of ass!” she questioned.

You chuckled at her flirtatious comment. “I’m not sure Shay, you would know the most given the fact that you live with him, wouldn’t you? Has he said anything to you??” You questioned, suddenly becoming very invested in the conversation and her response. You had made comments to Shay about how hot Severide is, but you’ve never fully expressed your interest in him.

“My lawyer says no further comment” Shay responds, zipping the imaginary zipper on her lips and throwing the key. 

“Oh cmon, Shay!! Help a girl out” you moaned in defeat, knowing that what the 2 roommates discuss is not for you to know. 

Shay was actually the person who got you and Kelly close to begin with. Being that you and her were ambulance partners, you went over to their place a lot, so you see him just as much as you see her (pretty often). 

“He may or may not have said some things about you, but that’s all I can say!” Shay spat out the sentence, picking up the speed as it went on, as if the faster she said it the less of a chance Kelly was to find out. 

“Oh this conversation isn’t over" you responded, pointing your finger. You weren’t ready to drop the topic anytime soon, but you were back at the firehouse. 

Before you could pester her with more interrogations, you saw a figure as she was pulling into 51.

“Who is that? He’s standing in the middle of the ambulance bay!” Shay exclaimed, confused that her driveway was being blocked. 

You squinted your eyes, confident that they were playing tricks on you based on who you were registering to be there. Once Shay had driven as close as she could without running them over, you knew without a doubt who the person standing before you was.

“My dad” you spat angrily, upset that this was your current reality; that a member of your toxic family had followed you to the one good thing in your life. 

You were both frozen in the ambulance; you, unsure how to avoid conversation with your father, and Shay confused as to how she can help you. 

You got out of the ambulance and began making your way inside, pretending that your dad was an invisible man and that his presence had no effect on you. Shay followed suit. 

When you walked past him you heard him scoff, and he threw his hands up in the air, resembling confusion.

“You’re just gonna walk past me. No ‘Hi dad, how are you. Long time no see.’” You couldn’t believe what you just heard, but once you partially processed it, you decided that this was indeed your battle to pick today.

You had moved to Chicago from Toronto after applying to the academy, deciding that between your narcissistic and emotional abusive mother, and your alcoholic dad, it was time to leave: not to run away, but to survive. 

Your older brother is a firefighter in Toronto, and you easily could’ve gotten you a job at his firehouse, but you had always loved Chicago and decided to bite the bullet. It was time for a change. 

“You have some nerve.” Slowly turning around to face him, you tried to keep yourself from seeing red. He didn’t deserve to know he got a reaction from you. “…Showing up at my place of work unexpectedly, and expecting me to give you the time of day.” 

“I just want to talk, Y/N.” You started hysterically laughing once you heard what he had said, the anger presenting itself through laughter. Your father was confused as to why you were reacting this way, and quite frankly, so was Shay. She had never seen you so upset.

“Get out of my firehouse. You don’t deserve to be here” you pointed towards the street, urging him to get out of your sight. 

“Y/N just hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it but it’s been so long and I just want to be a part of your life again. Things are different now.” He scratched the back of his neck, a hint of nervousness evident. 

You could hear the sounds of squad and truck rumbling down the street from afar, and you knew that you needed your dad to leave before the entire house got back. 

“Yeah things sure as hell are different, I left before I literally suffocated in that house, and you couldn’t give a rats ass where I ended up. Until apparently today, a random Saturday morning 2 YEARS after I spoke to you last. I want you to leave, NOW. And don’t make me escalate this situation.” You were sick of people walking all over you- blood-related or not, and you weren’t going to have any of this. Especially not in front of your 51 family.

By the time you finished your spiel, truck and squad were both parked and beginning to filter out, undressing from their turnover gear.

Severide hopped out, pulling his turnover gear down to his waist. He was wearing his lieutenant shirt with suspenders, and his squad 3 baseball cap. He would take quick glances over to you, not wanting to make it obvious that he was eavesdropping. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you decide to give me another chance. Until you let me make things up to you” he pleaded, reeking of desperation. 

At this point, people’s attentions were getting grabbed, and heads were turning over to observe the interaction.

“I gave you 1 too many chances, and I’m done. I’m not too sure how you didn’t get the hint that I want nothing to do with you when I moved countries, but I’m now verbally letting you know that this relationship is over.” 

At this point, a few members of 51 had filtered into the lounge, knowing that they probably weren’t meant to hear what was going down. Others took their sweet time getting undressed, most likely because they were trying to keep an eye on you.

Severide continued to tune into the conversation, always having an urge to protect you against harm’s way. He didn’t know much about the situation given that you kept your past very secretive, but recognizing what an abusive father is like, he stood near.

“Cmon, Y/N, you’ve always been so damn stubborn. Do you really need to act like this when I’m trying to prove to you I can be better?” Your dad was genuinely curious as to how you could be so cutthroat towards him, as if his drinking didn’t ruin the first 2 decades of your life.

Shay shot Severide a look that read ‘what do we do?’. 

“I don’t think you need to prove anything to her. It’s pretty clear you’re not a part of her life and that she wants it to stay that way.” You didn’t expect to hear Kelly’s voice from behind you all of a sudden. “Kel, it’s okay. I got this.” You felt a mix between wanting him to stand up for you, and proving that you can fight your own battles. He stepped closer towards you, and Shay took a couple of steps back, knowing you had even extra protection now. 

“And who are you?” your father asked, not breaking eye contact with you. His hands were placed on his hips, and by his body language, it was evident that he was not leaving without a fight. 

“Lieutenant Severide of 51, and respectfully, I’m asking you to leave my firehouse” Severide stated in a calm but straightforward manner. He crossed his arms and waited intently. 

Your dad chuckled in what seemed to be astonishment. “Sleeping your way to the top, very typical of you Y/N. I thought you would’ve changed your ways by now” your dad scoffed. 

You were beyond pissed off that he was even here right now, but that comment officially made your blood boil. Thinking about what you could possibly say in response, your dad decided to speak up once again.

“Let me ask you, how long have you been fucking my daughter, lieutenant?” He said the last word as if it was dirty. 

Kelly stepped right up to your father as if he had no fears in the world, something you wish you could’ve warned him about before doing. You were grateful your dad appeared to be sober, because if he had come inebriated, a brawl would’ve already broke out between them.

“Y/N has been nothing but a talented paramedic with a great amount of expertise in her field. She‘s proven time and time again that she’s a necessary addition to this team, and deserves to be here- she did that all by herself, no thanks to you. Now get out of my firehouse before the chief gets back and this gets worse for you.” 

You were absolutely blown away by Severide’s words, unaware of his thoughts regarding your time at 51. He managed to respond to your father’s comment in a professional yet serious way, and he did it with ease, appearing completely unbothered with confrontation. He was still face to face with your father, not ready to back down for nothing and no one. 

“Whatever.” Your dad hadn’t let Kelly escape his gaze for even a millisecond. “I came here as part of my 12 steps anyways. Step 9: Make amends” your dad said with a smirk. 

Despite not wanting to hear your father out for anything he had to say, the fact that he was here for his benefit, and not out of sincerity, was your final straw.

It took you a second to even fathom the possibility that he came here for selfish reasons, but once you did, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

You lunged at him and began unleashing. “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Now you seriously only saw red. While you were attempting to physically release all of your pain onto him, you felt Severide grab onto your waist and rip you off of your father. 

Your arms and legs were still thrashing about, despite your father being away from your grasp. “Come here, get off of him. It’s okay.” Severide tried to console you, but you were absolutely furious. 

“Y/N! Enough, he’s not worth it!!!” You heard Shay shouting from behind you. 

Once Severide knew you were done putting up a fight, he planted you back on the floor. You adjusted the stray hairs that had fallen all over your face and began to catch your breath. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Casey shouted from across the apparatus, walking over with his arms out in question. “Is everything okay?” He glanced between Severide - who looked like he was about to punch a wall, his jaw clenched- and you. 

“Nothing, he’s just leaving.” You said while trying to catch your breath, and resisting the urge to fight once again. 

Your father must’ve thought Casey was the chief, because he put his arms up in surrender, and turned on his heels. 

You immediately went into the driver’s seat of the ambulance to fully park it into the bay, as if your father were never here. 

Kelly put his hands on his hips, hanging his head low and then glancing back up towards Shay and Casey, squinting at them. He knew what it was like when family troubles came into the firehouse, so he felt for you. He didn’t like to see you upset, even though his feelings for you haven’t been confessed. 

“Who was that?” Casey asked, looking between Shay and Severide as if the answer lay between them. Severide gave him a ‘I’ll tell you later look’, motioning towards you with his eyes. 

Once you had parked, you opened the ambulance doors and began doing inventory. This was always how you distracted yourself against your mental struggles; pouring yourself into your job (and vodka into shot glasses). 

Severide knew you were going to say you were fine if he asked - even though you weren’t - so he gave you space. Severide and Casey headed into the firehouse, and Shay joined you in the back. She sat down on the stretcher and looked at you hesitantly. 

“Let’s just get through the rest of this shift, Shay” you looked at her, feeling her eyes burning into you with concern. She nodded in agreement. 

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

“Oh myyy- Shay!!!!!! Do you remember that call- that- that” you couldn’t even get the words out, your drunken self barely able to comprehend reality. You completely forgot what you were saying because you were trying very hard to focus on pouring your shot. 

You had went back to Shay and Severide’s place after work, ready to get fucked up and forget about the day’s events.

Once you had finished pouring a - very large - shot, you walked back over to the couch to continue your story. “Kel, you’re going to pee your pants when you hear this.” You looked over at him and he nodded, anticipating your story. What your beer goggles were concealing was the look of concern on his face.

He was leaning back into the couch, one arm around the back of it. His other hand held a bottle of beer, which he had barely taken a sip out of- intentionally staying sober given your altered state. 

Shay got up as soon as you made it to the couch, grabbing the vodka bottle from the counter in an attempt to hide it. Severide saw what she was doing and attempted to distract you. “Okay, tell me this story Y/N” he chuckled, motioning you to sit down and face him. 

“I need more alcohol in order to get this out” you chuckled in response, clinking your shot glass against his very full beer - causing both your drinks to spill - and sending your head flying back to down the Ciroc. Severide rubbed your back when you were done- seeing the look on your face he knew it couldn’t of gone down well.

It’s not that they wanted you to get to these state of drunken toxicity- they didn’t want to send you in spiral by telling you to stop. You were a party girl, but they had never seen you get to this point. 

“Shay! Shay, I’m about to tell the story” you eagerly called her over, your hands signalling that you wanted her to come closer. 

The sudden eager movements you made caused the room to spin, despite you being seated, and you felt a wave of nausea. “You okay?” Shay asked, walking over as you had asked, and immediately noticing the pale look on your face. 

“I’m-” you were interrupted by a burp, and the urge to spill your stomach’s content. “I’m fine- help me tell this story” you giggled, ignoring the sick feeling. If you paid too much attention to it, you knew it would make you feel worse. 

“And what story is that, Y/N” Shay looked over to you, a smile on her face as she brushed a stray hair out of your face. She was worried about her best friend, and she could tell that Severide was too. 

“A coupl- Oh god” You didn’t even hesitate, you just made a run for the closest bathroom, knowing it was inevitable. You made it to Kelly’s en-suite and un-ate the pizza slices you had a few hours before. Kelly immediately ran after you, seeing you crouched next to the toilet bowl. He knelt down to gather your hair in his hands and began to softly rub your back. “It’s okay” he whispered soothly.

Shay was leaning against the door frame of the bathroom with a glass of water. She leaned over and handed it to Kelly, who encouraged you to drink your first non-alcoholic/ caffeinated beverage of the day. “Here love. Drink this.” He held up the cup to your lips, helping your weak body to drink. 

The sudden influx of liquid triggered your stomach to un-eat a second time. Severide was right behind you the entire time, making sure your hair was out of your face. “Can you wet this Shay?” He handed her a face towel from his towel rack, planning to put it on your neck and cool you down. 

Once you were done, you felt absolutely exhausted. You leaned back onto Severide’s chest, your head falling to the side and your eyes closing. He looked at Shay with a look of worry but also relief, knowing that sleeping was a better result than putting yourself at a higher risk for alcohol poisoning.

He picked you up and walked over to his bed, gently placing you in the middle. Grabbing a blanket to drape over you, he made sure you were on your side in case you got sick again. 

Him and Shay both walked out of the bedroom, deciding to let you rest. 

“That was bad, Kelly.” Shay started pacing around, running her hands across her face and through her hair in stress. “I’ve never seen her get like that.” The two friends looked at each other, unaware of how to best support their friend. 

“We have to make sure he never goes near her” Kelly said, looking up at Shay with a look of anger on his face. It was your decision to get that fucked up, but it was ultimately your upbringing and your father’s re-appearance that encouraged the excessive drinking that night. Whoever’s fault, he knew that you would be okay if it weren’t for the guest appearance you had to deal with. 

Shay nodded in agreement. She began to clean up their place, white claws and packs of cigarettes, and rolling papers everywhere. You enjoyed rolling when you were drunk. 

“I’m gonna run by her place, pack her a bag” Severide announced to Shay, who supported the idea.  

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

Severide pulled up to your street in his Mustang, reaching for the spare bag he put in his passenger’s seat. He was about to get out until he saw a familiar vehicle he had seen at the firehouse earlier that day- a grey Honda civic. He was almost positive it belonged to your father, because he had watched him leave the firehouse to make sure he had truly left.

He made a phone call. “Hey man.. yeah everything’s okay, I just need you to do me a favour. Can you run this plate? It’s CD 37846.” As soon as Jay confirmed what Severide somehow already knew, he hung up and got out of the car, gunning it for your dad. 

Tapping on the window aggressively with his knuckle, he motioned your father to roll the window down. As soon as it came down, the smell of alcohol flooded his nose. 

“You have 1 minute to drive away, and if you ever come back here, so help me god you’re going to regret it” Kelly spat out, trying to comprehend that this was his reality, and also trying to keep himself from beating your dad to a pulp.��

Your dad chuckled with amusement, laughing at the threat that was made to him. He took a swig from his Whiskey bottle, almost as if to calm him down. “You may tell my daughter what to do, but you sure as hell don’t tell me what to do” your dad looked over at Kelly, making it very clear that he was unfazed by his comment. 

“We’ll see about that” Kelly tapped the window, making his way up your front steps. He didn’t want to give your dad the time of day- he didn’t deserve it. 

“That girl has commitment issues, so I would watch it if I were you. She’s a whore just like her mother, don’t be scared to hit her if she falls out of line.” It didn’t even take your dad finishing his sentence for Kelly to walk back to the car, open the driver door, and drag him out onto the floor. 

He began throwing punches, and couldn’t even make out his surroundings while doing so. All he focused on was how good the anger felt as it seeped out of his skin, blow after blow. The pain his shoulder felt was the least of his concerns. 

The anger completely overtaking him, he didn’t even notice Jay arrived, attempting to disrupt his punching spree. “Kelly! Hey! Stop it, man! Don’t to this.” Kelly was grabbed by Jay, and once he contained his anger he was let go. He spat on the floor right next to your father. 

“Kelly, who is this? What’s going on man?” Jay asked, slapping Kelly’s chest as if to reprimand him. 

“Y/N’s father. He’s stalking her, I don’t even know how he got her address. He was at the firehouse earlier today and wouldn’t leave, he has a bottle of whiskey in his car.” Kelly began pacing around, trying not to look at your father because if he did, he’d want to hurt him even more. “He hits women, Jay. I can only imagine what he’s done to Y/N.” He began pacing around even more once he imagined the possibility of you getting hurt at the hands of your father, the man who was supposed to be your ultimate protector. 

Jay nodded in understanding, thinking about what the next steps are from here. 

“I’ll book him for the bottle, and I’ll say he got into a bar fight. D&D.” Kelly nodded. 

Jay turned your dad over and put cuffs on him, helping him stand up. When they walked over to the cop car, your dad made one last remark.

“That was nothing... I hurt them even worse than that” Your dad showed Kelly a toothy, bloody grin, chuckling in content with what he said. Kelly knew that if he ever saw him again, he couldn’t keep himself from killing him then and there. Jay roughly put him into the back of the car, and slammed the door. 

“I owe you Halstead.” Kelly said, and Jay quickly nodded his head. 

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

Kelly returned to the apartment, a bag of your belongings in his hand. He headed straight for the fridge, actually ready (and feening) for some beer. He was glad Shay seemed to be asleep- he didn’t want to discuss the events that just took place.

He opened his bedroom door and peered in. You were laying on your slide sleeping peacefully. He walked over and took a seat right next to you, moving a strand of hair that fell in your field of view out of the way. Caressing your cheek, he thought to himself that his feelings for you were stronger than he had imagined. He ended up falling asleep right next to you- a safe place for you both. 

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

A/N: I’m so sorry that took so long! I hope you all enjoyed, and to the person who requested this- thank you, and I hope I met your expectations! This was my first request so that's super exciting. I don’t know if I made Kelly wayyy too protective in this, but I love it just the same. Keep sending in some requests :)  Also, I'm going to try to set up a masterlist, so stay tuned for that.

[angelltheninth]

Hi there! Heard you're trying your hand at blurbs, so how about Daemon x female!reader one? Take it wherever you like, I just need to read new Daemons content 🔥

Thanks, have a lovely day 💐

Oh god I swear blurbs are the death of me. I always feel like I make them too short and then I end up writing more then I originally intended. I think I nailed it this time though.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, power dynamic, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, Reader is given to Daemon as a war prize

Word count: 0.4k

A/N: God this is... I don't even know how I got to this. This is so evil of me. If you wanna be on the taglist for this fandom either comment here or DM me :)

You bit into your hand to stifle your cry of pleasure as another orgasm rocked hard through your body. You were sure that the guards outside, no the whole camp, could hear you. You couldn't stop, couldn't stop your body from shaking, couldn't stop your cunt from getting flooded with your arousal as Daemon pressed you down and fucked you into the bed.

From the moment you saw him riding through your town you knew he was trouble. Which only got confirmed when he declared that your town would be his next conquest. It wasn't much of a fight really, you knew you stood no chance. Which made your fantasies of him all the more sinful.

You shouldn't want this man. You should run from him, curse him out, kick and fight. You though you'd to that when he asked for a pretty woman to be brought to his tent. You thought you'd stand up to him, yell at him, slap him, give him a piece of your mind.

But just like the town you were no match for his might.

"That's right keep screaming. Make them hear you. Make your whole town hear you as I make you my whore." His hips snapped against yours, cock hitting so deep it almost hurt. "You're such a dirty girl. Coming from the cock of a man who could have killed every single person around you." He smirked down at you, looking at you like you were lower then the dirt under his booth, "Pathetic. You barely put up a fight. Did you want a cock that bad?"

You shook your head, hands fisting into the sheets and furs around you, "No. I... I fucking hate you." You narrowed your eyes at him for half a second before your expression changed into that of sin and pleasure as his cock kept hitting that spot inside of you that made your pussy react in a downright slutty way. "I should have killed you."

The threat, if you could call it that, made him roar in laughter, "You kill me? I would love to see you try. If you can move at all after this. Although," He leaned over and stole a brief kiss, pulling back just as you wanted to bite him, "it would make it all the more fun to make you squirm beneath me. So go ahead, try it. See which happens first." His his thrusts became brutal, his hands spreading and pushing your thighs apart so you had the perfect view of his cock going in and out, and how much your clit twitched at every deep, "You killing me, or me making you my cockslut."

[callsign-cree]

trainwreck || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

synopsis | it was never meant to be, and all she needed was confirmation.

warning | cheating, arguing, swearing, afab!reader + use of she/her pronouns

genre | angst

wordcount | 1.1k

note | sooo, heres a little rooster angst because i need to get back into the groove of writing. hope you like it!

------

maybe it was better this way. to watch him from the sidelines in his life, always being the bridesmaid, never the bride. there were times when it could’ve been the opposite. yet, chances are given too often to the point they weren’t chances anymore but expected. growing weak and melting at the sound of his voice when all it did was hurt more. she hated it. 

sitting in the living room, y/n held a photo in her hands. a picture that had been through thick and thin, curving in at the edges and creases all along its face. it had been years since the photo was taken. everyone in the academy, smiling and laughing, the first time they had gone to the hard deck. faces innocent of war and naive about what they were getting themselves into. bradley’s arm around her waist. the simpler times when the only contest was fighting each other and getting a new record. now, it was much more difficult than that. 

“i’m back.” said bradley, his tone much of the same he had given her the past week. it was hollow, that warm, familiar feeling leaving without a trace. there was no nicknames. no ‘love you’ or endearing comments. not like before. 

y/n hummed in response, wiping the stray tears with her hand, shoving the photo back in her wallet. putting her feet up on the coffee table, she opened her laptop, hoping that rooster wouldn’t notice. not like he has for the last week. 

“what’s for supper?” asked bradley, an audible sigh leaving his lips once she heard him enter the kitchen. there was nothing. it wasn’t her job anymore. 

y/n stiffened once she heard shuffling coming into the living room, she didn’t turn her eyes away from her laptop. continuing to type out her documents, she stared at the title in the corner. relocation. it was the last option she had, if she was going to be the best, she had to have no distractions. and she couldn’t do that with bradley. 

feeling a dip beside her, y/n ignored it. bradley settled down on the couch beside her, hands resting at his sides. laying his head on the back of the couch, he moved it slightly to look at y/n before staring up at the ceiling. 

“you can stop pretending now.” said y/n, not looking away from her screen. the first words she had spoken in the last five minutes, and she had enough. 

“what are you talking about-” 

“this! bradley.” said y/n, throwing her arms and gesturing wildly around them. bradley raised his head, looking at her with furrowed brows. he opened her mouth, but was quickly cut off by her.

“this silence. this…this…this-” said y/n, raising her voice, “whatever the fuck you want to call this! jesus, bradley its been nearly a week and not even a ‘love you’ or anything! i know-”

bradley jumped up from the couch, looking down at her in confusion and rising anger. 

“y/n! i have no idea what the fuck you are talking about! i walk in here every fucking day, greeting you as usual but all i’ve ever gotten back is silence-”

slamming her laptop closed, y/n pushed it onto the coffee table, not caring anymore. standing up, she looked up at bradley. 

“don’t treat me like that, you asshole. i know everything! alright!” said y/n, moving closer to bradley, her finger poking into his chest. 

bradley moved closer to y/n, “what do you know? huh? what the fuck do you know that grants you to act like this?”

“what do i know?” y/n scoffed, smile dropping fast, “you want to know, bradshaw? you want to fucking know? okay fine, i know about memphis.”

bradley stared at her. y/n saw something flash across his eyes, the realization coming and going just as fast. that was all she needed. he let his guard down and it cost him. 

letting out a dry laugh, y/n backed up and shrugged lazily. “wow…so it is true. this is what i get for giving you chances. this is what i get for letting me love you with my whole being and everyday for the past week, i called myself crazy.” resting her hand on her forehead, she turned away from him, “i told myself i was just overreacting, that you’re just having a bad day at work. that you’re just having a rough time adjusting to your new position. but no, how wrong i was…”

bradley stood quiet, letting his eyes fall to the ground. y/n laugh soon became a sob, tears falling freely. smiling, she wiped the tears from her eyes, looking back at bradley. 

“...i knew it was too good to be true. you finally loving me back, but now i see. that’s not it at all. it was pity. you still see that girl in the academy. the one never drinking, the one no one ever asked to come party. the one no one dared to love. i was an easy target, wasn’t i?”

“no, y/n listen-” said bradley, walking up to her and grabbing her arm. pulling her arm away harshly, y/n shook her head, holding out her hand to keep distance between bradley. 

“no. don’t touch me. don’t fucking touch me.” bradley let his arm fall back to his side, but still kept close to her. “just answer the goddamn question…did you ever love me?”

bradley looked at her, face softening. y/n clenched her jaw, and stared at him. she could see the gears turning. the emotions flashing in his eyes like a movie. after a few seconds, bradley sighed, shaking his head. that was it.

y/n dropped her arm to her side, looking at the floor below her. of course, everything was a lie. one big fucking lie. and for what. shaking her head, y/n chuckled dryly before making her way toward the door. bradley stood in the dark living room, watching as she left. 

coming to the front door, y/n pulled on her shoes and threw on a coat, before grabbing the door knob. closing her eyes, she let out a shaky breath. it was better this way, he did this. this was his fault. turning her head, she looked over to bradley. his back facing her, she knew the answer. 

twisting the doorknob, y/n walked out, slamming it shut. maybe it was better this way. watching his life from the sidelines. at least it wouldn’t hurt. not as much anyway…and that’s enough for her.

[heroloverangel]

A New Hope

In this house we love and cherish the thought of Dad Might

“Toshi? Can we talk for a second?” Your husband looks up from the email he’s writing and gives you a warm smile. He’s still heavily bandaged up from his final fight against All for One and by all means should be getting more rest, but you’re not surprised that he refuses to stop working. You navigate around the moving boxes waiting to be unpacked and curl up next to him. He closes his laptop and leans back to drape an arm across the couch then winces slightly at the movement of his injuries and settles for resting his hands in his lap. “Hey, take it easy,” you scold gently.

“If I take it any easier I’ll be asleep,” he counters with a small laugh. “Something on your mind?”

You nod and look down at the mug of tea you made while you figure out how to start this conversation. “I know it’s been a long time since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been doing some thinking lately.” He’s staring at you with interest, and you take a deep breath. “Now that you’re retired from hero work, and we know that the future is in great hands with Midoriya and the others…well, I’m wondering how you might feel about kids?”

Toshinori’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline in surprise. He opens his mouth only to immediately begin a fit of coughing, and it’s a relief to see there’s no blood on his hand from it. “That’s a bit of a minefield to drop out of nowhere, isn’t it?” You reach over to rub his back until the coughing subsides and offer him a sip of your tea, and he drains half the cup before he speaks again. “I think we missed our chance on that,” he lets out a wistful sigh. “I’m sorry. If I’d managed to finish All for One the first time, years ago, things could have been different.” Your stomach drops, this isn’t how you wanted this conversation to go at all.

“Toshi, no. That’s not why I’ve been thinking about it. We still have chances,” you insist and squeeze his hand, minding his injuries.

He squeezes yours back. “That’s true, we can look into adoption. I’d love to raise a family with you, but considering everything…” he trails off with a glance down at his body, raising his arms to highlight all the bandages wrapped around them. “I’m not sure how much good I’d be at it.”

You really need to get this discussion back on track before you start crying. You know his medical issues better than anyone, you’re certainly aware what kind of challenges are in your future. Still, this is a dream you thought you’d given up long ago, and now that it’s within your grasp you can’t deny how much you want it.

“I’d love it if we adopted kids,” you say through the lump of emotions in your throat. “But I think we’ll need to wait a little while on that, since we’ll be so busy for the next couple months.” He stares at you with confusion, and you give him a nervous smile of your own. “I’ve been feeling kind of off lately, so I made an appointment with my doctor and, well, you’re never gonna guess what she said.”

“Honey? Is everything alright?”

It’s time to rip the bandaid off. “Better than alright, I think. Toshi, I’m pregnant.”

You could probably throw a brick at his face and he’d be less stunned. All Might, the world’s greatest hero, sits in complete silence for several long seconds, blinking slowly as he digests this information. “You’re pregnant?” His voice is faint.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm. “Only about a month, so it must have happened right before everything with the summer camp.” He’s still gawking at you with wide eyes and you clear your throat. “Any thoughts about that?”

He lets out a shaky breath as a familiar grin slowly spreads across his face. “You’re pregnant,” he repeats, and you swear there are tears in his eyes. He leans over and rests a hand on your stomach. Of course there’s nothing new to feel, but you can tell he’s overwhelmed just at the thought of it. “I never expected that we’d get this chance,” he admits, voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright? Can I do anything for you?”

You shake your head, your own smile growing as he pulls you into the strongest hug he can with his injuries. “Just take care of yourself. I’m gonna need you in top shape, hero.”

“Of course, whatever you want. This is incredible news,” he gushes through teary eyes. “Our baby’s going to grow up with so many amazing people around them. Especially their mother.”

You stretch upwards to give your husband a kiss. “Father, too. Having the Symbol of Peace as a dad has got to be some ultimate bragging right on the playground.” A thought occurs to you, and you smirk at your husband. “Is it too early to make bets on who their favorite hero will be?”

As their teacher, he’s not supposed to play favorites so blatantly. When you try to call dibs on Deku and the yet-unnamed Bakugo, however, the heartfelt laugh he lets out tells you exactly who he expects will be the most impressive.

[skymaiden32]

Tit for Tat

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 7: Alive

Scott was just happy his brother was alive. Months later, the roles are reversed. Missing scenes from Terror in New York City and The Uninvited.

Continuity: TOS

A/N: A little longer than usual for these prompts, but here you go! ^^

------

“A few weeks?!” Virgil was outraged at the news his father and brother had just delivered. “But that’s terrible! Suppose she’s needed on call?”

“Well let’s hope she’s not,” was the patriarch’s answer. He really hoped the world would just hold off on major disasters for a while, but the world always had different ideas. And with Thunderbird 2 being as vital to operations as she was, chances were she would’ve been needed in the next few weeks or so. The hope that she wouldn’t just wasn’t realistic. “Now, you relax. You need a lot of rest.” Virgil opened his mouth, about to interrupt, but Jeff quickly stopped him. “You take care of yourself, and we’ll take care of Thunderbird 2.”

Virgil huffed, but relented, laying back in bed. Jeff, satisfied that his son wouldn’t try to get up anytime soon, at least with Scott in the room, left to supervise progress on the repairs. Once he was out of earshot, Scott moved to sit next to Virgil on the bed, finding his brother’s hand and squeezing it. “You’ll be back on your feet and behind the wheel again before you know it, Virg.” Virgil squeezed back, looking up sadly at his older brother.

“What if I’m not though?” Virgil mumbled, breaking Scott’s heart into a million pieces. It hurt to see his brother like this. “What if the damage is too big to fix?”

Scott frowned. “Hey, let’s not have any of that. Thunderbird 2 just needs a bit of R+R. Brains reckons it’ll take some time and a lot of work, but it’ll happen.”

“And if Brains is wrong?” A blasphemous question. Brains was hardly ever wrong. But Virgil asked all the same.

The older of the two brothers held back a sigh. “Then we’ll build a new one from scratch. One way or another, you will fly again, Virgil. I know you will…”

Virgil hummed. “What’s wrong with me then?” He chuckled, before wincing, holding a hand against his head. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m guessing a whopper of a concussion, a bruised rib, and damaged pride.”

“There’s the Virgil I know and love…” Scott smirked at the pride comment. Virgil grinned right back. A little more seriously, he confirmed his brother’s suspicions. “Got it in one, plus a couple of extra superficial burns from the crash. Me and the others will come in to check on you every hour or so. Gordon mentioned wanting to watch something with you.”

Virgil frowned. “Knowing Gordon, that could range from an absolute masterpiece to straight up torture.”

“True.” Scott agreed. “He did swear to me that it was a good one this time though.”

“We’ll see.” Virgil commented. Either way, it would be good to spend some time with their ocean loving brother. A few short moments passed in silence before the bedridden man broke it again. “Hey, Scooter?” His brother’s eyes were on him in a second. “I must’ve given you quite a scare when I went down like that.”

Scott scoffed, although not unkindly. “More like many, many miniature heart-attacks. Not just me either. We were all scared out of our wits! I’m pretty sure you took decades off of Dad’s lifespan.” 

Virgil’s eyes were downcast once again. “I’m sorry I worried all of you.”

“Virg…” Scott sighed. “You aren’t the one who should be apologising.” He reassured him. “And trust me, the Sentinel did. A lot.” He hummed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Washington is trying to find out where we’re based just so the Commander can send you a gift basket.” That got a laugh out of his brother. “You’re okay now, that’s all that matters at the end of the day. Just don’t do it again. I’ll leave you in peace for now.” He stood up, about to make his way to the door. “I’ve gotta meet up with Dad in the hangar, but I’ll be back with Alan in an hour to check on you.”

Just before he left the room, Virgil’s voice called him back. “Hey, Scott?” He whirled around so fast it was amazing he didn’t give himself whiplash. “Same goes for you.” Virgil smirked. “Don’t go getting attacked mid-flight and almost dying.”

“I’ll try not to, Virgil. I’ll try not to…”

------

In the vast, blazing sands of the Sahara, two men worked tirelessly on a third’s head wound in the shade provided by the silver rocket plane behind them. Scott winced when Wilson dabbed a healthy amount of cleaning solution on the gash. Wilson apologised quickly, before focussing once again on the injury. Lindsey grabbed a roll of bandages from the first aid kit, and after getting the all clear from Wilson, wrapped them carefully and snugly around Scott’s head.

The two archaeologists stepped back, giving the International Rescue operative a thumbs up. “You’re good to go!” Lindsey stated.

“At least until your teammates get here to check our handiwork is sound.” Wilson huffed.

“Well, it feels just fine.” Scott smiled gratefully. “Thanks, fellas. I really appreciate it.”

Lindsey and Wilson both grinned. “No problem.” The bearded man brushed it off. “If you’d been on your own it probably would’ve taken them a while to find you in this wasteland. From the sounds of it, those fighters were shooting to kill. If they’d realised you were still out here…” He didn’t want to finish the thought. The mere idea that anyone would shoot down a Thunderbird was impossible, at least on purpose. Both he and Lindsey had heard about the whole Sentinel scandal. For the International Rescue crew, this must feel like a scary case of deja-vu. 

“Just glad we were able to do something to help, no matter how small.” Lindsey cut in, breaking Wilson out of his train-of-thought.

Scott smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Trust me, you’ve helped a lot more than you realise. Thanks to you two, the guys back at base know where I am, and that I’m okay.” Just as he finished his sentence, the distant sound of engines was heard throughout what the trio on the ground thought must’ve been a good chunk of the desert. “That’ll be them now…” He commented, shielding his eyes against the sun as he stepped out from his Thunderbird’s shadow to see if he could spot the familiar green.

Lindsey frowned, concerned. “You sure it’s not those fighters again?” Scott shook his head.

“Once you know what a certain craft sounds like, with enough training you can pretty much distinguish it from any other aircraft out there.” He explained, getting back into the shade at Wilson’s insistence. “Definitely not the fighters. It’s Thunderbird 2.”

“Oh.” Lindsey simply said in understanding. Just then, Thunderbird 2’s shadow rolled over the body of her fallen sister, and landed as close as she dared. The three men next to the rocket plane watched as the main body rose from the pod and the door swung open, revealing the other International Rescue operatives. Scott recognised Brains and Tin-Tin, as well as his immediate younger brother. They all looked worried out of their minds, and Virgil was just that little bit furious.

“I’m dead… I’m so dead…” Scott gulped, causing both of his companions to look at him, puzzled. Virgil came bounding up to them at top speed, carrying his medical supplies with him. Brains and Tin-Tin trailed behind him with camping gear, taking in the sight of Thunderbird 1 buried nose-first in the sand.

“Do you have any idea,” Virgil’s voice was dangerously low, “how worried we all were, Scott?” Looking between the two archaeologists next to his brother, he breathed in deeply. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, gentlemen.”

Wilson replied. “As we said to your buddy here, it was our pleasure.”

Virgil hummed, checking the bandage that was already on Scott’s head. “Did they just finish this?”

“Yeah, they did.” Scott confirmed.

“Then I see no reason to change it right now. It’s sound. They must’ve had some sort of first aid training.” Wilson and Lindsey nodded. Virgil looked over at them again. “Well, from the looks of things, it’s going to get dark soon. No use moving on, so you’re both welcome to set up camp with us for the night.”

The men exchanged looks, and nodded in thanks. Afterwards, they moved to their jeep to get their camping supplies, letting the two operatives talk. “Sorry, Virgil.” Were Scott’s first words once they were sure the archaeologists couldn’t hear them. 

His brother simply shrugged. “Well, like you told me three months ago, I really hope this doesn’t happen again.”

Scott sighed. “It might though. This wasn’t a case of mistaken identity this time; they knew fully well I was with IR.”

“And so long as we’re IR, there will always be people out to get us. It’s quite the occupational hazard.” Virgil grabbed a small flashlight from his medical kit. “Let me check for a concussion real quick.” The younger man took his time. “Yep, that’s a concussion alright. Guess we’re sharing a tent tonight.”

“Like I’ll pass up a chance to spend time with my favourite brother…” Scott did his best puppy dog expression.

Virgil snorted. “Brotherly affection isn’t gonna get you off the hook after giving everyone a repeat scare of the Sentinel incident…”

“Worth a shot.” Scott shrugged. “How’re Dad and the others?”

“Coping.” Came Virgil’s short reply as he shut his kit. “But you can hear for yourself in a couple of seconds.” He gestured his head toward the open cockpit of Thunderbird 1. “Brains just finished fixing the radio.”

Scott frowned. “Didn’t even notice he was in there.”

“That’s how you know you have a head injury.” Virgil gave him a look.

Brains stepped out of the silver plane. “R-Radio’s all fixed up, S-Scott.”

“Thanks, Brains. I’ll call Dad and let him know what’s going on.”

Virgil watched as his brother disappeared into the ship, keeping an eye and an ear out in case anything happened. His face morphed from worried but happy, to straight up concerned. There was something niggling at him. 

“P-Penny for your th-thoughts, Virgil?” Brains asked in an attempt to draw out the other man’s concerns. 

Thunderbird 2’s pilot sighed. “I was lucky, Brains.” He began. “Extremely lucky when I got shot down by the navy. At least then, it had been a mistake on the Sentinel’s part, and we’d been fairly close to base.” He looked at his friend. “Scott didn’t have either of those luxuries. He’s even luckier to be alive than I am! If those men hadn’t found him…”

“We p-probably would’ve lost him.” Brains finished. “I’m s-sure he knows that t-too, Virgil. Y-You of all p-people know what he’s like w-when people he loves could g-get hurt. He’s probably downplaying j-just how serious h-he thinks this is. A-At least for now…” 

Virgil frowned, but didn’t argue. Of course, out of all their family, Scott was the most likely to hide certain details. “I know. That’s what worries me…” 

“Do you th-think those fighters will come b-back?” Brains asked. He hated to think about what could happen if they returned to finish the job as much as anyone else.

“I don’t know.” Virgil admitted, watching as Scott finished his conversation with their Dad. “Whatever happens though, I know that we won’t ever fall as long as we have each other…”