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g1rld1ary · 7 months

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you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

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It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson tv show

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jolapeno · 2 years

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keep you close.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader summary: he's pretty sure he's in love with you. not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it. an: angst with fluff, mentions of injury, war-stuff, cheeky stabbings, just cod things. no smut. just feelings. cause I wanted flangst. word count: 3.6k

masterlist for ghost.

Ghost doesn’t think when his eyes land on you.

He should.

He knows he should.

But he fires his gun all the same, not content with the sound each body makes when they fall to the floor. He wants them to fall harder, almost land and shatter.

He wants them to hurt.

It’s all he thinks as he slides the metal edge along the throat of the last one. The one who is hissing at him in a language he doesn’t even care to translate.

Ghost cares about one thing, and one thing only: getting that radio message out of his head.

It’s an ambush. Do not proceed. Get out—

It has been on a loop since he heard it.

Your radio message.

The one which made Soap shout, calling for you as the static and crackle came back. The sound which made his blood run cold. The one which made him charge across the base grab the person who confirmed the intel by the shoulder, and made them piss themselves. Accidentally, of course.

It had been Soap who suggested sweeping the place, but it hadn’t been far from his mind.

They found your radio stood on, crushed—likely by your own boot. You’d always been thorough—you also usually wiggled your way out of these situations,

It’s how you’d earned the moniker Mouse to begin with.

His eyes caught the dried blood, hoping it didn’t belong to you as his flashlight followed its path until his jaw locked, his muscles tensing.

Your scrunchie.

That ridiculous one you bought months ago. The one which you’d found hilarious, and he had found anything but. Black, with tiny ghosts on it, for Halloween. No other reason, you’d said with a smirk. Unless you want to borrow it, sir?

It’s in his pocket now.

Has been since he found it.

As he lets the last man fall, he brushes the pocket with his hand before wiping the blood on his thigh, sheathing his knife.

Turning, nodding in the direction of the other men as they checked them as he moved across the room to you, sliding his gun behind his back, and dropping to his knees.

We bring Mouse back. By any means necessary.

He’s thankful you’re alive and breathing. Watching as your head tilts —trying to work out who it is. Cautiously, both for the fact he’s considering it and for the knowledge he could hurt you, his gloved hand slides up your cheek, watching you tense before he pulls down the blindfold with his fingers.

One eye is swollen, horrid, and puffy. Something which makes him want to put extra holes in each of the men for it. But, he can’t take his eyes from the one of yours, which blinks, and stares at him, taking him in.

“I’m undoin’ this cuff.”

You swallow, nodding, trying to keep the eye fixed on him. The handcuff releases from your wrists as your arms drop weakly.

It’s then he can see the bruises.

The ones which have formed and the ones about too.

How the colours vary in spots along your exposed arms, neck and cheeks. Dreading to think of how deep they go, how far they spread under your clothes.

“Sir…” you whisper, his head moving closer. “You’re a piss poor listener.”

“Almost as bad as you, soldier.”

Cautiously, he moves closer, his knees hitting against your legs as his hand slowly brushes over your arm.

He’s aware the others have their eyes trained on him, Soap giving orders, busying them. It doesn’t stop him from moving his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close until his chest is close to your side.

“Do you want me to close my eye, make it easier for you?” you cough—sounding like a deflated lung. “You seem the type to hate touching people.”

“Enough.”

It comes out gruff, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. The side of your busted lip twitching as he pulls you over his lap.

He’s pretty sure it’s the gentlest he’s ever been, even more so with someone. He doesn’t mean to press his forehead against the side of yours. But, he thought he’d lost you.

The annoying girl who talked too much, who smiled and had no issues with personal space. Unless you were on the battlefield. Then, you were different—quiet, tactile, mouselike. You scurry, you don’t miss, with a gun, a knife or a computer.

Ghost knew he was fucked before today.

But, this confirms it.

The sharp pang in his chest is a horrid, bitter reminder of how fucked he is—especially with how his heart skips a beat when your hand shakes as it brushes against his mask.

He should look away as he lifts you, breaking the stare he has with you, but you move closer, whispering for him—and him alone. “I knew-w you’d find me.”

He tightens his jaw, feeling a lump in his throat as he gives a curt nod. “Always.”

“Always,” you repeat softly, eyelashes fluttering, desperate to close.

“Hey, eyes on me,” he says, and you do your best. You hope he knows that. “Good girl.”

You hear someone shout for a medic, but it’s not him.

He’s saying very little, just letting his breath dance across your neck and cheek as he holds you to him.

The next time he sees you, he's visiting you when you’re in recovery.

He’s heard from others you’re improving. Soap nudging him, ensuring he’s heard him—thinking he knows more than he does.

He does go, though.

You’re smaller than him, but you look so much smaller in the bed. Your face finally regaining some colour, an expression not twisted up in pain. The bruises faded, eyes unswollen.

It’s a welcomed sight after the last time he saw you.

He crosses the recovery room floor, the room slowly emptying around him. He was glad that the rest of the med bay was without patients.

His chair squeaks with protest when he sits beside you, eyes glancing over your face, over your arms, checking and checking that everything is where it was supposed to be.

You say nothing.

He says nothing.

He just sits, staring at you, letting his eyes roll over your face. You seem to let him, likely basking in the fact that you’re currently not being boiled alive by him.

It’s nice. Quiet.

It’s helping to drown out the whimpers and groans you’d been making all the way back here from your injury.

Until the tension reaches such a height even if you can’t stomach it.

“What you doing here, Lt?”

“Ensuring you don’t act recklessly.”

“I think I can behave for one night.”

“Doubtful.”

You play with the sheets on the bed, rolling them between your fingers as he watches you, knowing what’s coming before you’ve even opened your pretty little mouth.

“I’d behave for you, if you asked.”

Sometimes, your brashness even surprises him.

“I have asked,” he says, stretching his leg out as he watches you smile. “You still disobey me.”

You nuzzle down into your pillow, not taking your eyes off him.

“Sleep, Mouse.”

“With you watching me?”

He clicks his tongue. “Sleep.”

You smile softer, eyelashes looking heavy. “Okay.”

Nodding, he interlocks his gloved fingers over his lap.

You’d been silent.

Too silent.

He knew how you got your Codename. He’d read your file, after all. You sneaked through impossible holes figuratively and literally. Price had informed him how good you were with computers, he hadn’t known how good until he read it himself.

You were good, capable, and able.

He knew you could handle yourself, which is why it wasn’t that which concerned him. It’s the silence.

You’ve been quieter overall since you came back—since he brought you back. Since he helped carry you back to the truck till he watched you get patched up.

Something inside of you, that annoyingly cheerful part of you, had withered. He knew it, Soap knew it.

“You following me?”

“Could say the same to you.”

“Can someone even stalk a ghost?”

You’d tried to hide it, more so from him than the others. Your body trying to twist from him, but his arm had stopped you.

“Something you need, Lt?”

“No.”

You’d given him a curt smile. “Goodnight then, sir.”

He didn’t miss the way you added the sir.

Not that he expects he’s supposed to. Shifting his jaw from side to side, having watched you walk down the corridor, not even bothering to turn to look back at him.

That had been two days ago.

Today, you had dark circles around your eyes. A tenseness in your shoulders as you were all briefed.

He waited, seeing if you approached him, and asked him to stay behind—not entirely sure what his answer would be if you requested it.

But you didn’t.

It should have been a warning, your demeanour shifting, darkness descending down over you the closer they got to the location.

“Mouse, you copy?”

Silence.

Even to Soap.

Often, Ghost knew he warranted your anger.

He was colder with you, more stern. Especially since he’d allowed himself a moment—when he’d been able to hold you, carry you. When he’d felt your heartbeat and watched your eyes fix on him—warming him.

He had wanted distance and walls. Many of them, more so.

Now, he wishes he hadn’t.

Because with Soap, you were light, never ignorant. And maybe he’d have recognised how your anger and hurt had consumed you. That what happened between you being taken and being found had festered and eaten everything good inside of you.

He could relate.

More than most.

“Mouse,” Ghost radios, gruff voice and all. “Fuck.”

He taps Soap, heading in your direction, almost charging. He knew it before he saw it before his foot kicked open the door and witnessed it with his own eyes.

He even freezes for the briefest second.

Half impressed with the number of bodies on the floor.

But then he reacts, hooking an arm under your hips as he both lifts and moves you against the wall. The knife falling from your fingers, clattering against the stone, the only other sound is your panicked breaths and Soap exclaiming, “Steaming bloody Jesus…” as he enters the room.

His forearm presses into the wall beside your head, caging you in as his other palm presses into the wall next to your hip.

Because it was the mission to kill him—once they’d got the information.

The information he couldn’t currently prove you had—but he’d hoped you did. Because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to contain his anger, his fury. Right now, it simmered, being kept back by that vacant look in your eyes he doesn’t recognise. Not in you, at least.

You’re not looking at him. Not meeting his eyes.

Too busy staring at the body on the floor, the one which has scarlet seeping from each hole you’d inflicted with a knife. His knife.

“Mouse.”

You don’t move, staring as if transfixed in the knowledge he’s dead.

So he whispers your name.

Your real name.

Your eyelashes flutter into a blink, head-turning, finally pulling from the man who kidnapped you on the floor.

“Got the drive,” you say in a tone void of emotion.

Ghost didn’t want to shout, he didn’t want to scream at you, but he did all the same.

Both in anger that you disobeyed an order and in a panic because he couldn’t stop the way his mind unravelled when you didn’t respond.

That it took him back to that moment all over again. Where you were taken from him. Where he lost you. Where he should have protected you.

“You wanna explain what the fuck happened back there?”

You don’t look at him, folding your arms over your chest, suddenly finding the floor interesting. Pressing the sole of your foot against the wall as you leant, seemingly unbothered.

“That’s an order, Soldier—“

“I collected the information, and I stabbed him. Mission complete. Sir.”

Sir.

Fucking sir.

He hated how it made him hard. Little bitch.

“You disobeyed a direct order—“

“—The mission—“

“—You were supposed to wait for backup.”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

He rounds on you, forehead pressing against yours. “You couldn’t risk it?”

Your eyes don’t soften. They hold his gaze, full of fire, ash and destruction. “Well. We’ve both seen the evidence of bad intel, haven’t we?”

He stills.

Blinking, staring into your eyes, seeing the darkness still swirling. The anger has lessened but still remains.

“You need to let it go.”

“I need to… what?” You look hurt, more than he thought you could, and then it vanishes, swept away by anger. “…fuck you, Ghost.”

Moving from him, turning your back on him

“Fuck me? If you continue down this path—“

Then you turn, your eyes burying into him. “It’ll what? Keep me up at night? Consume me? Well, guess what, Simon, it already has.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a tremor to your outstretched arm before you snap it back to your side. “For days, they asked me who we were. They had ideas. They did… inklings. But, they… they knew my fucking name, Simon. They…told me what they’d do, and I had nothing, not a single thing to drown it out as they described all the ways they’d kill Johnny, how they’d break Gaz, how they’d hurt…”

You.

The unspoken word hanging in the room.

“I got it before, I did,” you say, words shaky at your almost declaration, “but I understand why you wear that mask—why you keep people out…”

Your eyes fill with tears, one’s he wishes he could wipe away before they even meet your cheeks.

“People you know can hurt you the most… right? That's what you said.”

His head reeling back an inch, but it feels like he’s been hit. And then you leave, storming out of the room, and he doesn’t stop you.

Because he knows he shouldn’t.

Because you’d called him Simon.

Not Ghost.

He hates that you’re not here.

You’ve been avoiding him. Outside of briefings and necessity, you’re nowhere else to be found.

The rest of them are around a table, beers in their hands. His mask lifted just enough to enjoy his—if it didn’t taste like nothingness.

Because there were no kind eyes on him. No jesting coming from a soft, sweet voice.

Especially right now, when it’s needed as they discuss who they’re currently fucking their fist over. He hears someone ask him, something he ignores.

And then Soap speaks for him. “I think Ghost here has his eyes on—“

“That’ll do.”

The others snigger, mumbling about getting some air as he cracks his neck. Hoping if he ignores Soap enough, he’ll vanish too.

“Talk to her.”

Ghost rolls his head on his shoulders, meeting his sergeant's expecting face.

Soap slaps his hand on his back. “Trust me, Lt, talk to her.” He tries to think of something, anything, to respond with. He hasn’t got anything until he continues, “Didn’t think you had a heart.”

“A cold one. I have a cold one.”

Soap smirks. “I doubt it’ll remain that way.”

It doesn’t take him long to find you, seeing you huddled over papers and a computer.

He considers watching you, but he steps in before he’s caught, offering you a mug, one you stare at suspiciously before taking it.

You prefer a milky tea, one sugar.

A person after his own heart.

Right now, he imagines you need something different, so he chose coffee.

“What’s this?”

“A boost. You need it.”

“Thanks?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

Letting himself see how dark the bags under your eyes have gotten.

“You’re not sleepin’.”

“Can’t.”

He taps the desk with two fingers, your eyes lifting up to face him. Slowly, he retracts his hand, holding your stare as he takes his glove from his hand. He knows his sleeve has risen, the ends of his tattoo showing as he offers you his hand.

“You made me a drink, and now you want me to what, leave it?”

Slowly, he nods.

Your huff sounds before you stand, slapping your hand into his. It isn’t until your fingers are in his does he watch your eyes flicker, realising that you're touching him—really touching him.

“Ghost…”

“C’mon. Now.”

He doesn’t let go or lessen his hold, not even when you slide your fingers between his. Not when everything inside of him tells him to run, to tell you to run.

His mouth doesn’t open, it remains shut as he brings you to his room, opening the door, letting it swing open before he lets his eyes meet yours.

Letting your eyes take it in before he nudged you forward.

“Ghost…”

“Simon,” he says gruffly. “My name is Simon.”

He shuts the door slowly behind the two of you, releasing your hand, moving it to his neck.

Your eyes follow him, the air thickening—he can feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck standing, the ones on his arms standing. He’s even sure time is ticking slowly.

Especially when he begins to slide his mask up, slowly showing you his chin, his cheeks, and his nose.

Your lips parting, mouth falling open as he pulls it off that last bit. Nothing hidden, not from you.

Swallowing, you make a noise, a squeak as if you’re about to say something, before clamping your mouth shut.

“Hi.”

Your lips twitch. “Hi.”

His fingers brush yours ever so slightly, forcing your eyes to dip before landing back on his with so much adoration—he’s not sure how he deserves it. Any of it.

“What does this mean?”

“It means you go to sleep. Here.”

You raise a brow, and he almost smirks. Almost.

“Not like that.”

Shrugging, you smile. “Coulda fooled me.”

Sighing, he lets go of your fingers. “You can’t sleep because you’re alone. But, if I’m here—“

“You’ll keep the ghosts away?”

He runs his tongue over the front of his teeth.

“Anything else this… declaration means?

“Means you can trust me.”

He watches your head tilt, a scrunch to your brows and your forehead as you look at him. “I trusted you anyway.”

“Then get in bed.”

He wonders if your cheeks are warm if they’re full or blush. More so when your eyes land on the floor, and he turns his back, moving to his things, finding you a t-shirt.

On you, it’ll bury you.

Which makes it perfect, just as perfect as the sound of you undoing your belt is to him and the faint sound of your trousers hitting the floor.

“Here,” he says, holding the T-shirt behind his back, not wanting to look.

Not even when he feels your fingers slide down his forearm, over his ink. When he feels your index and middle slide along his pulse, over his wrist and palm before taking it.

It’s not until he feels your hands on his sides does he turn, your eyes looking up at him—somewhat close to the eyes he knew, the ones which first had his heart pulsing furiously as it is now.

“Do you snore?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Sleep naked?”

“Not all the time.”

“Good,” you comment, loosening your grip as he turns to face you. “Hate for you to have gone to all this effort to not let me get a wink of sleep.”

The double meaning of your words isn’t lost on him.

Especially when he sees the twinkle in your eye, the grin desperate to blossom over your lips.

“Unless…”

“Another time,” he says, even if he hates himself for it just a bit. “Now, get in bed.”

You nod, smiling, “Yes, Sir.”

Fucking hell. “Less of that.”

“Any reason?”

He snorts, turning to watch you climb into his bed, slowly pulling his T-shirt over his head, hearing you inhale as if your mouth was next to his ear.

“I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.”

He flicks the light off, wondering if your heart is hammering as much as his. Each step towards you feels like a mile, but he’d do it again and again. Feeling for your hand and the sheets you’re offering him, sliding in beside you.

For a moment, he’s tense.

Just as you are.

Especially as his bare legs find yours, your back to his chest, hair tickling his nose. He waits, letting you make the first move for comfort, feeling you breathe heavily before shuffling against him. Fingers trying to keep your hair out of his way, pulling it, twisting it.

And he remembers sliding his hand under his pillow, pulling it out slowly, the fabric rolling between his thumb and finger before he finds your hand over the sheets. He feels you tense, likely recognising it instantly, slowly taking it from him as you move, turning to face him.

Even in the darkness, he makes out your features.

His hand reaches up, touching his chin before fingers spread up your cheeks. His thumb rolls over your bottom lip, wanting to kiss you desperately.

“You found it?”

He says nothing.

“You kept it?”

He breathes out. “I did.”

You must feel his heart hammering. You have to.

Your body slowly comes down, arms sliding around his chest before hands find themselves on the back of his neck.

His head turns as you let hug him, as your body says everything without so much as speaking. And all he can think is he’s an inch away from your lips.

He’s within reach.

He could. He should.

“Simon…” you whisper.

His throat goes dry, and then you kiss him.

Silencing his mind, silencing everything that doesn’t matter—doubt, worry and the sound of that radio message—as he runs his hands over his T-shirt that covers your body.

Pulling you close.

Keeping you close.

I’m with you : read part two

#simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley #ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost cod mw2 #simon ghost #cod x reader

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adnauseum11 · 7 months

Text

Bottom Line Up Front (John Price x Reader)

Kate updates John on what her reconnaissance has uncovered.

1k words

CW: swearing, allusion to past sexual assault

feedback welcome!

Kate checks the incoming number on her ringing cell before swiveling away from her computer screen and answering. Her favourite current retiree is checking in, right on schedule, saving her a call.

“John, how are things?”

“Alright Kate, any news there?” John asks, paused at a stop light after dropping his love off at work.

“Yeah, actually. Let’s start with if you’re aware that there’s a photo of you and your lady on the internet, shall we?”

Kate asks, already knowing the answer.

“What?”

It gets John’s full attention. He’s navigating back to his love’s place, and nearly misses his turn at Kate’s revelation.

“Yeah, were you at a pub recently?”

“A few.” John stays cagey, unused to his habits off duty being under a microscope.

“Well, there is one over on Beecher’s Lane using a photo of you and a woman to advertise online.”

“Ah Christ, I knew that was trouble. She does trivia nights with her mates there.” He says by way of explanation.

He leaves out the part about her triumphant face at finally making it on to the leader board swaying his better judgement about the photo. Years of scrupulous image control to maintain his professionalism undone a few months into dating. Bloody hell.

“Well, they scanned it and posted it up. I can see why though, she’s very pretty. Well done, John. I can see why you kept her to yourself.”

“Alright, easy, you’re happily married Kate.”

John reminds her, a wave of possessiveness sweeping through him.

“Yeah, married but not dead.”

“She’s spoken for.” John growls, navigating a roundabout while Kate irritates him from afar.

“Obviously. I did some digging on my end on the name you gave. It’s come back with some colourful info. He’s ex-army, dishonorable discharged for sexual assault years ago. He’s done contract work in the past; one was with some of Col. Norris’ men. Ring any bells on that name?”

John’s processing as he drives, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Of course, you think there’s more of a connection there?”

John’s memory of threatening the Colonel is clear as day, although it had been years and a long road since that incident. The mention of sexual assault has him tightening his grip on the steering wheel unconsciously.

“Norris is involved in the contract you turned down, that Gaz is on right now. Not sure yet, it is unusual that there would be a connection for a random B&E. I’m going to keep poking around. Certainly, it feels off. Your instincts remain sound, Captain.” Kate acknowledges John’s talent for uncovering bullshit.

John hums, internally thankful he’s already on his way to his love’s place to poke around and doubly grateful he turned down the contract weeks ago. He adds stopping by the pub to his list of errands.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight when I got there. You say he’s ex-army?”

“Well, personally, I think your reputation may have preceded you. If connection to you is what brought attention on her, they’d be looking to confirm they have the right woman, not rob her. He likely would have known you on sight, probably chose the best course of action to preserve his neck in the moment when the wrong person turned up.”

John’s blood runs cold as he pulls into his love's driveway. He idles in the car, staring at the door and the busted doorhandle, still unfixed, as dread sits like lead in his stomach. John’s done too much to be naïve to the potential outcomes.

“You think someone wants to leverage her against me? Norris?” John’s putting the information together quickly, following instincts.

“Maybe. You’ve certainly given him no reason to like you, and he could be harbouring a grudge for the way his men were treated. He’s got an ego and a chip on his shoulder. Like I said, I’m going to keep flipping stones. There’s nothing solid there yet.”

John sighs, scratching his cheek before replying.

“Alright, thanks Kate. I’d hate to be right on this, but better to get ahead of it. Maybe let Gaz know something is up, if it’s connection to me they’re after. Better safe than sorry.”

“Already in motion. In the meantime, it goes without saying that I would encourage you to keep her away from the apartment.”

Kate swivels back to her computer, a notification blinking in the bottom corner.

“She won’t be going back. She’s moving out.”

“You found a place that quickly? Impressive, John.”

Kate’s tone is vaguely distracted as she reads the incoming message.

“She’s moved in with me.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line for a moment. John has a feeling he has her full attention once again.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense, but that’s moving faster than I would have expected from a bachelor like yourself, Captain. What’s next, going to marry her before spring rolls around?”

John presses his lips together in exasperation. Kate is teasing but there’s a vein of incredulity running underneath her comments that John can hear. He can’t totally blame her; this part of his life had been strictly off-limits. For the exact reason unfolding now, to his immense frustration. From the outside looking in, it would look like sudden madness, he’s sure. On some level, he wonders if it is, a man like him trying to retire into a normal life.

“I don’t need time to get to know her Kate, I’ve known her forever.” John reminds her. “Christ, you’re making me miss dealing with Simon. He doesn’t ask this many questions.”

“Who do you think found the photo, John?”

He finally turns the car off, exhaling into the phone.

“Jesus Christ, Kate.”

“He was concerned that you were slipping, letting that get posted. He’ll be relieved to know you sniffed this out.”

“Him and I both. Keep me posted on what else you find.”

John’s back to giving orders he’s no longer got any business giving and Kate humours him, the stress in his voice evident to her long-trained ear.

“Rog that, John. You keep yourselves safe until we get more details.”

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain price #kate laswell #reconnaissance

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vnti-vntiety-recs · 27 days

Note

okay yay! Thanks for answering all of my questions, I was worried it felt like an interrogation 😟 In that case I’m chock full of ideas but for an issues that plagued me 2 days ago, I wanted to ask for a domestic-ish fic. I am….terrier or bugs..like deathly afraid…like I have to wake my mom up at night or worse in order to save me…so I wanted to ask…

Whether we are in a Some or a full-fledged relationship, who is willing to rush from work or a social engagement to come kill a bug that ran into the house for me bc I call them crying & also not make me feel embarrassed or dumb over it & how 🥲 pls any 127 or Dream except jw or the Chenji, for female reader please

Ok, I couldn't pick just one member so here are the members I think are most likely to rush home to kill a bug for you! I’ve been meaning to write more for 127 so enjoy!

Members who would be willing to rush home to come kill a bug for you ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

JAEHYUN

(I feel like Jaehyun is pretty laidback and chill so he wouldnt really mind doing something like that for you. I feel like he's not one to get annoyed easily over silly things so he probably wouldn't even think twice about your reaction)

He was on his lunch break when his phone buzzed incessantly, the screen lighting up with your name. His heart sank as he noticed the string of missed calls—five, maybe six—all back to back, which was highly unusual for you. You always respected his work schedule, making a point to avoid disrupting him during the day. A sense of dread washed over him. Something had to be wrong.

He quickly dialed your number, his pulse pounding in his ears. When you answered, your voice came out choked and shaky, “Hello?” The strain in your tone sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through him, and he felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

“Baby, it’s me,” he said, trying to maintain an air of calm despite the panic bubbling inside him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Jae, please come home. It’s an emergency,” you managed to say, your voice wavering as tears streamed down your cheeks, making it difficult to speak. Fear constricted your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

His heart raced as he absorbed your words. The urgency in your plea twisted his insides into a tight coil. “Okay, just breathe. I’m on my way,” he reassured you, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. The heaviness of unease wrapped around him, but the simple confirmation that you needed him ignited a fierce determination within him.

With that, he jumped into action, throwing his things into his bag and rushing out of the office. The world outside blurred into a haze as he sped towards home, the car’s engine roaring like his frantic thoughts.

Each traffic light felt agonizingly long, each second stretching into an eternity, but luck was on his side today; he didn’t work far from the house, and in less than twenty minutes, he was pulling into the driveway, his heart pounding in sync with his footsteps.

When he burst through the doorway moments later, adrenaline coursing through him, he rushed through the house, calling out for you. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw you standing precariously on the couch, broom in hand, wobbling slightly as you tried to keep your balance on the cushions.

“Jae, no! In the kitchen, go!” you shouted, your voice laced with urgency, but it came out in a frantic rush, leaving him unsure if he understood what was happening.

He raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and concern, as he approached the couch again. “What’s going on?” he asked, but you wailed in despair, “No, Jae! You’re not listening! Hurry before it gets away!”

Hesitantly, he finally veered toward the kitchen, cautiously obeying your frantic direction while you stumbled over the couch cushions to follow, not daring to let your feet touch the ground until you felt certain it was safe again. You perched against the armrest, leaning over as far as you could to keep an eye on him.

“What am I looking—” he started, but before he could finish, you interrupted him, your heart pounding with urgency. “There, Jae! There! Get it!”

He quickly redirected his gaze to where you were pointing and squinted, initially seeing nothing. Then, just as his patience began to wane, he spotted a beetle scuttling across the stove. Relief washed over him; he finally understood the situation.

With determination, he reached into the junk drawer, pulling out a piece of cardstock and a plastic lid. He deftly scooped the bug onto the cardboard, trapping it beneath the lid. As he walked back into the living room, he noted the tension radiating from you, your eyes wide with fear. He cast you a reassuring smile as he passed, making his way to the front door. You relaxed slightly, finally allowing a tentative foot onto the floor, following him to the entrance. He gently released the tiny intruder outside, your eyes locked on the scene as the beetle vanished into the grass.

As he returned inside, the raw tension that had coiled within you drained away, leaving you feeling weak in the knees.

“Was this the emergency?” Jae asked softly, concern still etched on his face.

A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Guilt washed over you; you had dragged him all the way from work just to help you with a bug. “I’m so sorry, Jae. I just can’t handle them. I really tried, but it—”

“No, no, no, baby, I’m not upset,” he interrupted you gently, shushing your growing distress before pulling you into his embrace. He rocked you back and forth, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you cried softly against his chest. “I was so scared—I thought something had happened to you. I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Do you promise you’re not mad?” you sniffled, looking up at him with teary eyes.

Jae pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then flashed you a dimpled smile that warmed your heart. “I’m not mad. I’ll get rid of all the bugs for you, just ask. Do you know why?” he asked, pulling you back slightly to look into your eyes.

You shook your head, your curiosity piqued, urging him to continue.

“It's because I love you,” he said softly, his gaze steady and filled with warmth.

In that moment, all your worries faded, replaced by the comfort of his words and the safety of his arms.

Doyoung

(Doyoung is another member who I don't think would really mind going through the trouble of coming home to kill a bug for you. Now, I will say he probably thinks it's a little silly, but he would never tell you that. In truth, he finds it really adorable and loves the way you sometimes depend on him.)

He was already on his way home with the groceries when your call came through, ringing sharply in the quiet of the car.

“Hey, I’m almost home,” he said with an upbeat tone.

“Please hurry! There’s a bug—and it’s—IT’S FLYING, SHIT!” you yelled into the phone, panic echoing in your voice.

Doyoung could hear you racing through the house, your breathing heavy and irregular, accompanied by the sound of crashes that made his heart race. He pressed down on the gas, urgency pushing him forward.

“Try to calm down, love. I’m almost there,” he said, attempting to soothe you, but his own heart was pounding at the chaos on the other end of the line.

“IT’S CHASING ME—” was the last thing he heard before the line abruptly cut off.

That alone spurred Doyoung to speed home, anxiety creeping in as he recalled how much you despised bugs, and how clumsy you could get in your panic. The last time you encountered a moth, you’d sprained your ankle in your frantic escape.

Not long after, he pulled into the driveway and could already hear your distant screams while he fumbled with the keys to the front door. As he unlocked it and stepped inside, he couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene before him. You were darting around the living room, all but obliterating the tidy space in your attempt to evade the offending insect. Little did you know, your chase was futile—the bug was nowhere near you anymore.

In a moment of sheer panic, you ran straight into his chest, the impact causing you to stumble backward.

“Whoa, babe, it’s me. Where is it?” Doyoung asked, concern lacing his voice as he steadied you.

“I thought it was chasing me,” you huffed, the exasperation evident in your tone. Your wild eyes were filled with both fear and embarrassment, and Doyoung felt a surge of protectiveness.

Before he could respond, the unmistakable buzzing of insect wings echoed through the room, sending you into a full-on retreat behind him. “Doyoung, please!” you wailed, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Alright, I’ve got this,” he said, his demeanor shifting to one of calm resolve. He peered over his shoulder, scanning the room for the source of your terror. “Just stay right here,” he added, turning to face you, his serious expression softening when he saw how scared you were.

With purpose, he stepped forward, determined to handle the situation while keeping you safe. The buzzing grew louder, and he focused intently, ready to shoo away the intruder and restore peace to your chaotic home.

With careful movements, Doyoung scanned the room, honing in on the erratic flight pattern of the bug. It was hovering near the window, darting back and forth as if trying to find an escape. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the moment of levity and focus on the task at hand.

"Okay, I see it," he said, steadying himself. "Just keep behind me, alright?"

You nodded, gripping him tighter for reassurance. Your heart raced not just from fear, but also from the sheer relief that he was there. Watching him take charge made you feel a little less frantic.

Doyoung approached the window cautiously, glancing back at you to make sure you were still safely behind him. "It’s just a bug, remember? You’ve faced worse," he murmured, trying to soothe both of your nerves.

With a sudden bolt of bravery, he swung open the window, and the insect buzzed around aimlessly, momentarily disoriented by the sudden gust of fresh air. Doyoung waived his hand, trying to guide it outside without harming it.

"You got this," you whispered, peeking from behind him, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Doyoung guided the bug toward the open window. It buzzed a few more frantic circles before finally darting out into the evening air. As soon as he closed the window, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“See? All taken care of,” he said, turning around to face you with a triumphant smile.

You launched yourself into his arms, relief flooding over you as you buried your face in his chest. “Thank you,” you breathed, your voice muffled. “You’re my hero.”

Doyoung chuckled, holding you tightly. “No heroics here, just doing what needs to be done.” He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, a playful glint in his eye. “Speaking of what needs to be done, come help me bring in the groceries so I can make dinner,” he said, tilting his head toward the door.

You opened your mouth to protest, but given all he’s done for you today, you don't argue. “Alright, but if I see even one more flying thing tonight, you’re on your own!” You warned, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips.

Doyoung laughed, a light, melodic sound that eased the remnants of anxiety in the air. “Fair enough. I’ll keep the kitchen bug-free while you load up the bags.”

#ask #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #doyoung fluff #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfic #doyoung x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #bugs anon

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s-awturn · 1 month

Text

Underworld Sun || LH44

summary: It only took an unpretentious visit to a local florist for all of Lewis's convictions to come crashing down, and finally the lord of the Underworld found what was missing in his lonely existence.

cw: dark content, slightly stalkerish behavior, nostalgia, pure smut, Lewis!dom x reader!sub, revelation, mention of magic, violence, outbursts of rage, (fake) naivety, devotion, deep love, soulmates, family interference, mention of kidnapping.

a/n: I confess that the final part of the first chapter shouldn't have happened, but when I saw it, the two were already getting to know each other. But nothing I can't get around, just a shortcut in the story's timeline. By the way, I need to thank you for the 100 followers, this story wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be, so thank you, thank you very much 🫶🏼

p.s.: do you want a taglist?

prologue |

The static made the hairs on both of their arms stand on end, he had never felt that before and for a moment Zeus's words came back to his mind. But it didn't make sense because the woman in front of him didn't have any trace of sacred energy, she was just an ordinary human, no divine traces. The itch in his chest increased when he saw her cheeks flush, so he hadn't been the only one to feel that way.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lewis... How can I help you? You don't seem like a flower person."

"I really don't like flowers, but I think my house needs a little... life." He wanted to laugh at the irony, but kept his face impassive.

"Luckily for you, I have the perfect flowers right here," she said, her voice high with excitement. Y/N walked through the maze of pots, packages of soil and other objects. "I have a beautiful pot of strelitzia, it's a big plant but it adds incredible charm to any environment..."

Lewis nodded, following her at a safe distance, watching her point to some flowers and plants, for such a small space, there was a giant variety of species. Perhaps the flower shop was bigger on the inside than on the outside, he observed dryly.

"I have black desert roses, I think violet tulips..." She was faster than Lewis could follow, Y/N picked up a beige ceramic vase, and was placing flowers in it randomly. "I need orchids, hold them here for me, please" she handed the vase to him and disappeared inside the flower shop, returning with two flowers hanging in her hands.

He didn't understand how that mess of flowers and some dried plants could be. Y/N gave him a grateful smile as she took the vase from his hands and added the flowers she had picked. Within a few minutes, The florist organized the arrangement, and what was a mess turned into something beautiful. Even if he tried, he couldn't do something like that.

Something beautiful, vivid and graceful.

No, he only knew death, fear and dread.

"For someone who doesn't like flowers, I imagine vibrant colors are a problem... You are very lucky indeed, these black flowers arrived today and people love them, because of how rare they are."

Lewis gave a curt nod, watching her fetch a bag to put the vase in so that it wouldn't ruin the flowers when they were carried.

Y/N taught him about some preservation methods for the flowers in the vase, but he didn't listen to anything, caught up in the way she spoke, how she gestured, It was obvious how much she loved what she did, how she loved finding the right flowers for each customer. It had been a long time, longer than he could count, since he had seen someone work with so much love, so much dedication.

He had always known that humans were petty, arrogant, and cruel, humans would do atrocities for the things they wanted. History had more examples than he could count. Clytemnestra killing her husband after the Trojan War, Lycaon serving human flesh to the gods... And the passing of time confirmed what he already knew, humanity was rotten beyond salvation.

But the woman in front of him challenged his convictions. No matter how deeply Lewis searched her soul, he could find nothing that made her equal to the others.

Y/N was different.

Still lost in his thoughts, Lewis paid for the arrangement, saying she should keep the change.

"I didn't expect to find anything here in this little town, and here I am, going home with a bouquet," he said, making her put away the remaining money.

She smiled widely, the itch on Lewis's chest growing more irritated. "Oh, it was no big deal, Lewis. I'm happy to make sure you take something from us on your trip."

He looked away from her, grabbing the bag from the counter. She followed him out, still chattering excitedly. "Thank you for your attention, Y/N, and for the bouquet, of course. Goodbye."

"Adieu, Lewis." She waved at him as he walked down the small village's only avenue, and he could catch the waves of surprise coming from her as she realized what kind of car he drove. What could he do? Powerful cars were his deadly addiction.

He placed the bag of flowers on the passenger seat and started the car, feeling the sweet scent of the bouquet mix with the smell of expensive leather, creating a unique aroma that Lewis didn't notice he liked it until the air conditioning dispersed the smell.

He arrived in London that same day, he liked how the climate of the English capital lived up to his own temperament, London was cold, gloomy and rainy, thick clouds covered the city for most of the year. Therefore, he thought it only fair that the center of his domains should be located there.

He had barely crossed the building's reception when he was greeted by Megara, the erinyes wore an elegant black suit and no one would ever suspect that this woman was chasing and inflicting madness on men.

"Welcome back, sir," she greeted, turning on her tablet screen as she walked beside him to the private elevator. Many creatures had found other purposes in life in the contemporary era, nymphs had become models and actresses, satyrs had spread throughout the world in various sectors, But the Erinyes met in the corporate world, for the three sisters it was much more fun to see men going crazy over bankruptcy than over madness itself. "Nemesis has returned from the US, the purchase of the Wall Street investment bank has been successfully completed, and Fernando has also returned from Asia."

"I need you to do me a personal favor, Megara," he said as the elevator doors closed. "It's urgent."

"Of course sir, how can I help you?" She quickly turned off the tablet and turned fully to Hades, he handed her the bag of flowers, which she looked at with a raised eyebrow.

"Find out everything about the owner of this flower shop, from her name to how many vaccines she's had, absolutely everything," he was emphatic, seeing the furiæ nod in confusion.

"I'll make sure you have the information today, sir."

"Excellent," he replied and stepped out of the elevator, meeting Hypnos and Thanatos in the waiting room of his office. "I hope you have good news."

"You're not going to tell us how the visit to your family went?" Hypnos commented mockingly, receiving only an eye roll in response.

"Come in... And Megara, change the water in the flowers and place them in my room," he instructed before entering his room, followed by the twin gods. "I still don't understand why they took on different bodies."

"After years of having the same face as my brother, it's fun to be different from him," Tanatos said, his Spanish accent showing.

"Whatever..." He waved his hand in the air, going straight to the small bar to pour himself some whiskey. "I hope things in Suzuka went well, it's not a good time for a war with Susanoo."

"He's reluctant about the terms, we're talking about millions of souls that could favor their own pantheon..." Thanatos said, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. "I was lucky to talk to him, Tsukiyomi doesn't seem so happy to see us in their backyard."

"They can either deal with us in a peace offering or go to war with the Hindu clans, I wouldn't sleep easy knowing I might wake up with Shiva stabbing my neck" Hypnos said.

"Exactly, if they want us to keep their territory safe, the soul deal is a very small payment," Lewis said. "They'll accept it, it's a small pantheon and they did not know how to maintain their powers in the transition of the ages. Where have you been all this time?"

"The Fates called me to the hut"

The mention of the spinners of fate puzzled Lewis. What could they possibly want? If there was a new prophecy coming, he would know about it.

"What did they want?"

"The walls of Tartarus are crumbling," Sebastian said simply and Lewis snorted, it wasn't enough that Persephone was alive again, he still had to deal with the possibility of a new Titanomachy.

From zero to ten, how fucked was he?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#f1 imagine #f1 #s awturn #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x y/n #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #hades and persephone #lewis hamilton x reader

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

#hns.eve #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere idol #yandere rockstar #feroze #yandere ocs x reader #yandere story #yandere core #yan core #oc x reader

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rat-cannibal · 6 months

Note

i have no idea if you write for adam, but here i am

i am the ultimate angst asker, if you're okay with that

adam or lute(ilovewomenbumpersticker) x reader who does in the extermination without them knowing.

- FEED ME A BONE,

carcass

aaaa thank you so much for the request!! i am a fellow lover of women, so I will do Lute at a later date. i wasnt too sure about what you meant by 'does in'. i did give you a sad ending though, so hopefully that makes up for it!

how would adam or lute react to the reader finding out about the exterminations? Part 1

- Adam -

you and adam started dating before he started the exterminations

you're an amazing person - kind, sweet, innocent, everything an angel should be. and also everything Adam isn't.

adam is already so insecure about anything that has to do with hell bc lucifer stole his wives (cue pussy eating hand gesture)

so he doesn't even mention it when he starts thinking about the exterminations

you're suspicious, obviously, because he's going off on so many meetings and is becoming more distant

but you dont say anything because you love adam, and he would never lie to you.. would he?

when adam finally gets his extermination team approved, he's overjoyed

he comes home and immediately kisses the shit out of you

You whine as he pulls away from you, your lips swollen and your face flushed. You try to catch your breath. "Not that I'm complaining, but, uh, what exactly was that about?"

Adam grins widely, squeezing your hands. "What, am I not allowed to kiss my beautiful partner hello?" You sense a hint of deceit in his voice, but choose not to question him about it.

you and adam always sleep in the same bed at nights. you have practically since you started dating.

so when one night he doesn't come home, alarm bells immediately go off in your head

is he cheating on you? maybe he found someone else, someone better

no, you reason, surely he's just held up at work

your suspicions only intensify when he returns the following morning, hair tousled and clothing ruffled

he looks exhausted, like he didn't get any sleep. usually this would indicate a long day at work, but theres a smile on his face that paperwork could never cause

dread grows in your stomach

he greets you happily, like nothing's wrong, and you play along, not wanting to fight with your boyfriend about something that could very well have been a misunderstanding

next year, though, when he disappears again and comes back looking thoroughly satisfied, your suspicions are confirmed.

adam is cheating on you.

you're a very conflict-averse person, so these yearly meetings go on for nearly two decades (time works different in heaven ok just roll with it. 1 year = a month to them basically)

eventually, though, you come home from a hard day of work and Adam isn't there.

that pushes you over the edge. you pack a bag and store it in the closet before going back to your room.

you would look for an apartment in the morning. for now, you just want to sleep.

you wake up and join adam in the kitchen for breakfast. he looks like he always does after these meetings - ruffled, yet satisfied.

"Adam," you say simply, "we need to talk."

"Uh-oh," teases Adam, "am I in trouble?"

"Where were you last night?"

Adam swallows thickly. "What?"

You glare at him. "Where were you last night?"

"I was busy with a work thing - you know how it is, babe, they work me to the bone. It's ridiculous."

"Why do you look so happy, then, so fulfilled?" You sigh. "Look, Adam, I know you're cheating on me. I've known for years now. I guess I just hoped you'd have the balls to admit it."

adam tries to frantically explain that he's not cheating on you, that he's been leading a yearly extermination

he would never cheat on you, he loves you

you demand to know what an extermination is, and he tells you in more detail than you ever would have wanted

you listen in silence as he describes the joy he gets from killing demons - from killing human souls

you retrieve your bag and leave your shared apartment for good

adam begs you to stay, says he'll change, that he'll do anything

but you can't be with a murderer

#hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #gn reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #angst #heavy angst #sad ending #no happy ending

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year

Text

blue to orange

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader x jaemin

WORD COUNT: 7.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble...)

SUMMARY: your break up leaves you with a plane ticket to Greece on a couples trip with your best friend and her partner. she convinces you to still come on the trip and you meet two strangers who leave you with memories of long nights under a stunning starry sky.

THANK YOU: I started this as a surprise gift for a wonderful friend, you know who you are and I hope this brings you joy <3 huge thank you to @strwbrysunday as always for beta reading and helping along the way, you know what I want to say without me having to say it, let's keep writing together ily

WARNINGS: explicit smut, drinking, smoking reference, breakup reference but no angst around that don't worry

PLAYLIST: Make A Wish by NCT U, ANL by NCT Dream, Sunny Road by NCT 127, Kiss by DoJaeJung

“You’re sure I won’t be a third wheel on the trip? You can easily make this a romantic getaway without me and I can just save my vacation time for the holidays,” you speak into your airpods softly as you walk your dog back towards your building.

“Don’t be silly! You just went through a breakup, the least I can do is support you on the sunny beaches of Greece,” your best friend replies and you can picture her eyes rolling as she speaks.

It had been six extremely long and tortured weeks since you finally ended things with Haechan and even though everyone knew it was a long time coming, it still didn’t make it any easier.

You loved your friends and had done a lot of couple things together in the past, but a romantic summer getaway as a third wheel sounded absolutely dreadful. You let yourself be convinced by the fact that you did in fact need a break from work, already had the time off scheduled, and the flights were getting towards the non-refundable window. Haechan had already cancelled his portion of the trip the minute things had started to get rocky between the two of you (which from your perspective, was a lot earlier).

Before you know it, you are curled up on a plush couch looking out the open balcony door of a beautiful villa near the ocean, many miles from your apartment still filled with memories and moments with him. Music is playing faintly on a speaker and you are catching up on a book that you had promised your cousin you would read and discuss together.

“I was thinking the two of us could go for a late lunch at that fancy hotel near the beach,” your friend offers, making her way into the living room and plopping down next to you.

“It seems expensive but lunch might be a little cheaper? And the photos of the food look amazing,” she tells you with a brush of your knee, pulling the book from your hands and sliding it on the coffee table.

You agree and try to find something that will be appropriate for the setting, slipping on one of the nicest dresses you brought with some heeled sandals. You had let your hair air dry that morning so you try to wrangle it with a large, pearlescent clip and dot some blush on your cheeks.

Walking into the stunning lobby of the hotel, you watch as expensive luggage rolls by on the marble floor and hushed discussions are held in foreign languages in the small groupings of furniture. The concierge greets you pleasantly, agreeing to check with the restaurant staff to check if they can accommodate you.

He confirms they can seat you and you and your friend follow him into a beautiful dining area that opens to a patio that blends into the beach seamlessly. You’re taken aback by the intricate painting design on the ceiling and suddenly feel yourself bump up into a firm chest.

Letting out a gasp, with a curse on the tip of your tongue, you look up to meet the dark eyes of an equally startled blonde man. He instinctively steadies your arm, gripping your bare skin lightly as his eyebrows knit lightly.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you meet his gaze.

“I was distracted by how beautiful this room is,” you add, flicking your eyes to the lingering hand on your arm.

“No trouble at all,” the man replies, dropping his hand and giving you a small smile. His lips tip up just at the corners, not revealing teeth, but still holding warmth.

He’s absolutely gorgeous, sandy blonde hair slicked back with a couple strands dangling in front of strong brows and sunkissed skin. He’s dressed in business attire, with a light gray suit and cream button up with one more button undone than you would expect, no tie. His other hand is casually dipped into his pants pocket, revealing an expensive leather belt.

“Are you staying with us at The Cove?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he smiled a flashing grin.

“Oh no, no,” you stutter out, making a gesture to your friend who is looking at you with wide eyes from the table she had been escorted to.

“I’m just here having lunch with a friend, we are staying nearby,” you finish, pulling your hand up to your forearm to stroke it nervously.

“Ah, I see. Well I hope you have a lovely meal then…” he trails off, expecting you to reply with your name.

“Thanks!” you blurt out, overlapping the end of his sentence and brushing past him, your cheeks flushing deeply as you practically jump into the chair being held out for you by the waiter at your table.

The mystery man smiles again, shaking his head lightly and scratching at his temple before ducking into a booth in the back of the restaurant, out of your view.

“What was that all about?” your friend murmurs from behind the large menu. Her eyes are glittering and you know there is no way to hide how flustered you are from the brief exchange.

“Nothing, nothing, I think he works here,” you reply, before moving the discussion to what you plan on ordering, starting with a much needed glass of wine.

The well dressed waiter is soon at your table again with a bottle of champagne in his hand, wrapped in a white cloth.

“Oh no, we didn’t order any drinks yet,” your friend is quick to clarify, seeing the orange label on the bottle and your eyes widening at the expensive drink.

“No trouble, Miss, this is courtesy of the property staff to thank you for joining us for lunch this afternoon,” he replies smoothly, uncorking the bottle and pouring expertly into two waiting flutes.

You turn over your shoulder, scanning the room for the booth the blonde man had slid into and see him smiling at you, lifting his own glass of champagne towards you. In a moment of confidence, you take your own glass from the table and lift it towards him before taking a small sip and turning back around.

When you turn back around your friend raises her eyebrows before clinking her glass to yours, chuckling into the bubbly liquid.

After the most delicious meal you’ve ever had, your friend heads to the restroom to “not miss out on the chance to see what kind of bougie soap and hand towels are in there” and you once again find yourself standing in the marble lobby, feeling underdressed.

“I hope to see you again,” comes a low voice from behind you and you turn to find yourself face to face (well, face to broad chest due to the height difference) with the tall stranger again.

“Oh do you?” you ask with a smirk, stepping a little closer to him as you turn around, feeling the confidence bubble in your chest once again. You hadn’t dated much in the short time you’d been single, swiping a little here and there on some apps when the loneliness started to hit you hard and going home with a hot bartender from the corner pub by your office who said she had been trying to hit on you for years.

But something about this mysterious and to be completely honest, seemingly rich man piqued your curiosity. He seemed confident but not cocky, reserved but still warm, and might have lived on another planet with how far outside your normal life he was.

“In the restaurant, of course. We have a lovely brunch service on the weekends,” he replies with a wink, extending a hand with a small pearly green business card to you.

“Oh yes, for brunch,” you reply simply, taking the business card and examining it to find that he is the Director of Marketing for the company that owns the hotel property.

“And should I call you, Jaehyun, to make the reservation,” you ask with a smile, sliding the card into your purse.

“You absolutely can, you also can call me if you need anything else during your visit. I spend my summers here locally as there are many events my team manages during the busy season,” he replies with a small laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You blush as his fingers brush against your cheek, resisting the urge to lean into the palm of his hand that seems to linger by your face.

Footsteps and a quiet throat clearing behind you indicate that your friend has joined you and you know that the best thing to do in this moment is to leave without letting this conversation wander any further.

You thank Jaehyun again for the champagne, offering your name and which villa you’re staying at down the road as small breadcrumbs, still knowing you still have the ball in your court with his business card.

Your friend is giggling your whole walk back, punching you in the arm lightly at the luck you seem to have, even on vacation.

The next night you are seated in the luxurious dining room again, across from Jaehyun, wearing a new dress purchased from a boutique in the small seaside town. A freshwater pearl necklace is draping deep into the low cut dress and silver bangles clinking on together on your wrist when you dot your napkin on your glossy lips.

You had let your friend help you get ready for the date, pinning up your beachy waves with a few curly strands hanging seductively by your cheeks. Light makeup adorns your cheeks and your bare arms aren’t cold after spending a day in the sun.

You can’t take your eyes off Jaehyun in his crisp striped blue and orange shirt, tucked into dark grey trousers with leather shoes that you know cost as much as your car payment. He looks more casual than he did the first time you met him, but still dressed appropriately for the high end setting.

You’re sipping champagne again, which Jaehyun has admitted is one of his guilty pleasures. When you sat down at the table, the server immediately brought over the bottle to pour for both of you, explaining the chef was preparing multiple courses, planned specially for the two of you. You merely shook your head at Jaehyun, slightly embarrassed by the fuss he went through for a date with a total stranger.

“Ah, Jae!” comes a booming and high pitched laugh, accompanying the toothy grin of a dark haired man.

Jaehyun places his glass on the table and stands to extend a hand to the man, who swats it away and wraps him in a hug.

“Taeyong and I just got here and are ready to party!”

The man who you soon learn is Mark, a junior member of Jaehyun’s team and an old friend from college, exclaims, voice a little too loud for the hushed tones of the restaurant. He’s cute with a big boyish grin across his face.

“Well I was hoping you and Taeyong would be here and ready to work,” Jaehyun drones back, glancing at you, looking to be a mixture of embarrassed and amused.

“Oh come on, Jeong, loosen up! The season doesn’t really start until next week and the company just closed that huge deal, let’s go dancing tonight!” Mark continues, swiping a thin breadstick from the basket on the table and taking a bite off the end.

“I will have to see what my date wants to do, but I’ll text you,” Jaehyun says with a roll of his eyes, placing a warning hand on Mark’s shoulder and gesturing for him to make his exit.

Mark’s eyes widen and you chuckle into your napkin. It seems as if in this moment he finally realizes Jaehyun is on a date with you and he drags his eyes over you slowly. He stammers out some sort of excuse before bowing his head lightly and quickly walks away to join a steel gray haired man who is laughing at him near the entrance of the restaurant.

“Sorry about them,” Jaehyun mutters, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he settles back in his seat.

“They mean well and are great at their jobs,” he continues as the waiter returns with intricate salads topped with fresh seafood.

“And they are two of my oldest friends, so I trust them to work for me and also keep me in check for when I need to loosen up a little,” Jaehyun adds before sliding a perfectly grilled shrimp into his mouth.

The dinner continues without any additional interruptions or excitement and your stomach jumps when he suggests meeting up with Mark and Taeyong at a nearby club. Tipsy from a few glasses but eager to see where the night takes you, you send a quick message to your friend checking in before following Jaehyun to a waiting shiny car outside the hotel.

A few shots of ouzo later, the four of you are on the dance floor and you’re currently losing a dance battle with Mark, while Taeyong is about to lock lips with a tall Greek man nearby. Mark is cackling with laughter as you start the chicken dance and he mimics your moves, doubled over at the waist and sloshing some of his beer on the floor.

You turn over your shoulder to lock eyes with Jaehyun, who is swaying slowly to the music, gripping his own drink and smiling at you lazily. His eyes are narrow and his grin stretches ear to ear. His shirt has become unbuttoned over the course of the night, hanging loosely and revealing his toned chest. The gel that once held his hair in place has lost its grip and the strands are damp from sweat.

“Getting tired, Mr. Marketing Director?” you tease, resting your chin on your own shoulder as you watch him and take a long swig from the straw in your drink.

“Oh I can do this all day, back it up, back it up,” Jaehyun unexpectedly purrs in your ear, gripping at the silky fabric at your waist, pulling you flush up against him.

You instinctively melt your head back into his shoulder, opening up a wide expanse of your neck for him to claim. Jaehyun dips down, lips brushing against your skin in a warm kiss, inhaling to take in the scent of your perfume and light sweat developing in the heat of the cramped dance floor.

You can’t hold in the moan that falls from your lips and despite the loud music and laughter in the club, Mark hears you, eyes growing impossibly wide once again and he blushes, dipping his head down and turning to head back to the bar.

Someone else hears you, making eye contact with you briefly before tipping his drink up to you and giving you a thousand watt smile. Your heart leaps briefly in your chest before he nods at you, as if encouraging you to continue. He has kind brown eyes and fluffy, curly hair and has a beautiful, tall, older woman wrapped in his arms as he dances in time to the music.

You take this opportunity to turn in Jaehyun’s arms, looping around his neck and drawing your lips close to his ear to whisper before he’s nodding and dragging you eagerly by the hand out of the club.

Your head is spinning as you stand in his massive suite at the hotel, still unable to believe how a few short nights in Greece have led to you spending the night with this man at a five star resort that you would never have the funds to visit yourself.

Jaehyun is behind you again, hands dragging down your sides and gripping at your hips, hiking your dress up to expose your thighs. He has his face nuzzled in your neck again and you begin to realize this position turns him on as you feel his growing erection press into your ass.

“As the head of the marketing department, it’s very important that I make sure every person who visits the property has a top tier experience,” he murmurs in your ear, capturing your lobe in his teeth and tugging lightly before releasing it.

“So this is the type of service you provide to all visitors? Or only young attractive, recently single ones?” you flirt back, reaching your hand between you to palm at his crotch.

He moans at your touch, sending vibrations along your neck and shooting sparks to your core. He never answers you but you know from the way he whips your dress up over your head, unclasps your bra with his teeth and pulls you into his lap at the edge of the bed, that he hasn’t gotten his dick wet in a while. You learn later that despite his team all being around the same age, he feels a sense of responsibility to focus on work, always available for a call or to hop on a red eye to meet with clients in another country. He was lucky to have this job, coming from more humble beginnings, and rising up the corporate ladder was a way for him to feel confident and accomplished.

Straddling him on the edge of the bed, now only wearing your lacy nude panties, you push his shirt off his shoulders before moving to his belt, dragging your tongue along his neck, painfully slow. He sighs into your touch, moving a strong hand to your upper back before pulling the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, stroking your soft skin tenderly. You rise up on your knees to let him push his pants and briefs down, pausing and looking at him straight in the eye once you are both naked.

“I promise, I’m not the asshole businessman you think I am,” he mutters to you, taking both sides of your face in his warm hands, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss.

You feel arousal begin rapidly in your stomach, thighs pulling together instinctively as he slides his tongue in your mouth. In a stark contrast to his gentle eyes and beautiful mouth that you moan into, his hands are back at your hips gripping the delicate fabric and ripping the underwear from your body, letting the soaked lace fall from his fingertips to the floor.

His hand is back on you, cupping your ass and pulling you down onto his crotch, a gasp flying out of your mouth as your core comes in contact with his hard cock. He feels so good and you want nothing more than to lift up so he can slide into you before mid-lust clarity floods back in.

“Does the not-asshole-businessman have a condom?” you chuckle into his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth as you give him an inquisitive look.

He laughs and nods gesturing to a small pouch on the bedside table, which you reach for from your seated position and let him slide it on. The tip of his cock is flushed with arousal and leaking precum, which you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of.

As soon as the condom is on, he is pushing up into you, hands gripping at your waist in a motion you know will leave faint bruises. He’s quiet, not making many noises as he picks a steady pace as he pounds into you. Small grunts and quiet moans do escape his lips every once and a while and you find yourself trying to tamp down the noises building in your own chest.

Your whole body is buzzing with pleasure as you arch your back when he presses up into your g-spot, your hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your reaction clearly affects him as he pulls a hand up to press your chest closer to his and you swear you can feel his heart beating against your own.

You do your best to match the pace, thighs burning from the hours of walking in the town earlier and tonight’s dancing. His hands find purchase at your waist most of the time, occasionally cupping your ass after delivering a light slap. His eyes are shut tightly and you study his strained expression, seeing how close he must be to the edge. You know you won’t last much longer either, from the hours of drinks and a long day spent in the hot sun.

“So big,” you breathe out, panting as you desperately hope you can climax together just from this one position. It’s all you can manage to say, despite the paragraphs of praise flooding your brain.

At the sound of your voice he rips his eyes open, a hungry gaze settling on you as he grabs at you and falls back, moving you both up to the center of the bed in a swift motion. The switch in position almost sends you over the edge as you dig your knees into the plush duvet and continue bouncing on his dick at the same pace he had kept.

His movements start to become more erratic as he reaches up to grab your hair, tugging hard to force a scream from your trembling lips. The pain sends you plummeting into your orgasm, clenching hard around him as he releases into the condom.

You both slow your movements and you lean forward, steadying yourself with your hand on his chest, grinding slow circles on his aching and overstimulated cock as you come down from your high. When your face meets his, you press your foreheads together, folding your bodies into each other and can’t help but breath heavy sighs across his lips.

“Hope you leave us a good review,” Jaehyun murmurs lightly before pressing up into your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist gently, as if there is any more space between you to close.

His voice is still steely and low, but holds hints of an emotion you can’t quite place.

It’s late morning when you finally walk the shore on your way back to the villa, dress covering your aching and bare lower half, sandals dangling from your fingertips, and one of Jaehyun’s linen shirts open to shield your arms from the morning sun. Avoiding a small family playing at the shoreline, you walk up a small path and wander into a small cafe that hadn’t been open the other day when you had been at the beach.

You approach the counter, decorated with fresh flowers in short antique glassware and smile at the faint sounds of Edith Piaf floating over the speaker. You let your eyes slip shut briefly, breathing in the salty air and tinkling sounds of mismatched coffee cups the other patrons are sipping from at small circular tables.

“I’m guessing you need at least a double shot to help recover from that late night,” comes a warm voice and you quickly open your eyes, met with a smiling man with fluffy brown hair and glittering dark eyes. He is wearing a brown apron over a mesh crochet shirt and he’s already pulling a disposable cup off the stack next to the register and flipping some switches on the espresso machine.

“Oh, so you know my coffee order? And what I did last night, apparently?” you muse, leaning against the counter gently on your palms. You feel suddenly slightly self conscious, unshowered and the breeze whipping up every once and a while making you fear that the light dress might get caught up and leave you exposed from the waist down.

“Well I just know that after hours of dancing and staying out all night, I usually make myself an iced americano with four shots and no water,” he laughs back at you, starting to pull shots from the machine and filling the cup with ice.

“Four shots and no water?!” you ask, voice pitching up in shock. His bright and wide eyes give you the impression he wasn’t joking and that he had already had quite a few cups of coffee that morning.

As you take the cup from him and pull the straw extended from his other hand, you cock your head to the side lightly, studying his face carefully. He seems almost familiar?

“Wait, do I know you?” you ask, wracking your brain for where you could have seen him before.

He nods back at you in reply, drawing his lips up into a devious smirk. The same devious smirk you had been met with last night on the dance floor when you moaned loudly from Jaehyun’s mouth on your neck.

“The club…” you trail off, taking a sip from the straw and nodding in approval at the smooth and bold flavor. “I had had a few drinks.”

“You looked like you were getting a little more than tipsy,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You flush, gaze dropping down to the floor, taking the chance to take another sip of your drink. You’re unable to stop the tightening in your core at the thought of Jaehyun and his broad shoulders and the filthy drag of his cock on your walls.

“Looks like you had a good time though, I don’t know how a pretty girl like you wouldn’t,” he adds, walking around from behind the counter to lean against it.

“I’m Jaemin by the way,” he finishes, offering a bright smile again.

“I’m visiting Greece with friends, we’re here on vacation,” you reply, brain otherwise blank.

He’s kind and nice to talk to, telling an older woman arranging the pastries in the case that he’s taking a short break, walking with you out to the shore again, letting the morning tide lap at your bare ankles as you stand side by side.

His hair is caught up by the passing breeze and everything about him is light and airy. The conversation moves so casually and quickly, you learn he teaches at a school for deaf children but during the summer works with his family at the cafe and spends his evenings swimming or visiting the different islands. You compliment his crochet shirt, learning he made it himself from recycled fibers from a yarn local shop and that he volunteers to collect ocean trash with some high school kids on the weekends.

Before you know it, you’ve been talking to him for almost an hour, the ice in your cup long melted but agree to come back for another beach stroll later tonight when he’s done working and running errands for his grandmother. He takes your coffee cup from you, gaze lingering on you as you disappear down the beach and towards your villa.

“Another date with another guy?!” your friend practically shrieks as you walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy towel.

“Oh hush, I’m on vacation, aren’t I?” you laugh at her, whipping your hair towel at her legs, causing her to feign injury and flop on your bed.

“Something’s gotten into my best friend, but I’m here for it,” she replies, clicking into your unlocked phone on the bed to see text conversations with both Jaehyun and Jaemin. They were both waiting for replies from you and your friend was so desperate to stir the pot that forwards the two phone numbers to her own phone.

Late that night, hours after you’ve had dinner with your friends, a beach stroll turns into sharing a bottle of red wine and a pack of skinny cigarettes on a blanket on a quiet part of the beach that Jaemin explains is “more of a local spot”. He’s giggly and flushed from the wine and you can’t help but stare at his lips every time he brings the bottle to them to take a long sip.

After you’ve finished the bottle, he proposes some more walking to take in the view of the night sky. You oblige him, watching him spin around with his arms open as he loudly tells you about the different constellations bright in the sky overhead. He’s giddy and in teacher mode, letting you repeat back the names as he points each one out.

“Wait, isn’t this private property?” you ask as you reach a recognizable patch of the beach area, looking up to see The Cove hotel up ahead.

“You mean this gentrifying, modern atrocity that they are planning on ripping down half of the beach-side businesses to expand?” Jaemin asks with a laugh, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you over to a small paved area with a fire pit. He places the wine bottle and blanket on a chair and lets his sandals drop to the ground next to them.

“That big company comes in, takes up some of the best views on the shore, and then charges ridiculous prices that only millionaires can afford. They don’t even let us collect trash from the ocean floor anywhere near where their guests can jet ski - which only makes it more dangerous!” he continues, peeling off his shirt and tugging at the string of his shorts.

“What are you doing,” you hiss, pulling your arms to your chest in the cool evening breeze.

“Let’s go swim,” he murmurs into your hair and you feel his nose scrunch up when he smiles, pulling his shorts and boxers down together as he runs towards the water’s edge.

Your clothes are on the ground faster than you would have liked to admit and you cover your chest with your arm as you run towards the ocean, pushing back thoughts that you’re about to be skinny dipping with a guy you haven’t even kissed.

You’ve waded out just far enough where the water is almost covering the tips of your shoulders, your hair half drenched as it floats around you in the moonlight. Jaemin’s big smile is visible even in the dark, and his hands are high on your waist as he pulls you towards him, slotting your lips effortlessly into his.

You sigh into the kiss, letting your legs wrap around his waist to keep you from dipping under the water as you relax into his hold. Just as you start to deepen the kiss, you suddenly are plunged under the water, Jaemin having dragged you under with him, before emerging with both of you gasping for air.

“JAEMIN!” you scream, swatting at his back as he holds you even tighter to your chest, kissing up and down your neck.

“I just wanted to get wet,” he giggles, voice lifting an octave as you bring a loud slap to his damp skin.

You are about to bring a snarky retort from your lips until you suddenly feel his erection brush over your clit, exposed by your position. A loud moan tumbles from your open mouth instead, grabbing at the back of Jaemin’s neck to crash your lips into his, biting down on his bottom lip aggressively. He returns the intensity by gripping your waist and reaching his other hand down plunge two fingers into your core, thumb brushing your clit expertly.

You gasp and bite down hard on his shoulder, overcome with the feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly and the small waves forming around you in the night air.

Unlike quiet Jaehyun, Jaemin doesn’t keep his reactions bottled up. He’s groaning loudly in your ear, moaning out your name, and stringing filthy words together that would have made even your most sexually adventurous friends blush. You’re shocked that smiley-save-the-world-Jaemin has this dark and kinky side to him but not disappointed in the slightest.

He brings you to climax from his fingers alone and you’re soon wading towards the shore, hands all over each other as you get to the shallow water, dropping quickly to your knees and taking his massive cock in between your swollen lips. He’s standing above you, his muscled silhouette stunning in the front of the seaside view, pushing your soaked hair out of your face as you lap your tongue out at his tip, teasing his slit.

He clicks his tongue and moves his hand to the front of your throat, giving a confident but careful squeeze in the exact placement for the perfect balance of pain and pleasure. You gasp and dart your tongue along the vein on the underside of his flushed member, keeping eye contact with him the entire time, even as the sand begins to grind into your knees underwater.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” he says with a squeeze, his tone all you need to push him into your mouth fully and hollow your cheeks around his length. You moan for good measure, knowing the vibrations sent up his body are what forces his head back in ecstasy. He comes across your chest with both of you screaming in pleasure and you swim back out into the deeper water to clean off before putting your clothes back on your damp bodies and wander back over to your secluded spot further down the beach.

“I’ve never stayed up to watch the sunrise before,” you admit a few hours later, sighing as you drag your fingers absently over his exposed abdomen, shirt hiked up high on his chest.

“I wanna be your sunrise, girllllll,” he sighs out, sleepy as he pushes his head closer to you on the soft sand.

You turn your head to face Jaemin, taking in his relaxed face and bright smile. Reaching up, you card your fingers through his hair, resting your palm against the back of his neck to stroke the shorter strands there.

The horizon is burning a beautiful blend of reds and oranges, the glistening blue water dark and mysterious in contrast. The sun is illuminating Jaemin’s features in a glowy haze and exhaustion is settling in, pushing your eyelids down. You stand, pulling him up and letting him drag you back to the cramped room above the cafe where he has spent every summer since he was a kid. Your knees knock together as he pushes you down on the bed and has you moaning from just his fingers in seconds.

You end up spending the rest of the day with him, letting him make you breakfast in the back kitchen of the cafe and greet his family members and only feel slightly embarrassed when his grandmother strokes your cheek and mutters something that you don’t understand, causing Jaemin to squeal and usher her out of the room.

He wraps his arms around your waist lazily, pulling himself closer to you as you are perched on the stool, dragging your lips up to his and sliding his tongue along your lower lip and you think you might combust right then and there.

When doubt and negative thoughts start seeping in, your own voice echoes in your ears, I’m on vacation, aren’t I?

The rest of the week flies by and your last evening is spent cooking up everything left in the fridge, your friend’s partner grilling shrimp and scallops on the small grill on the balcony and you chopping up fresh fruit at the small kitchen island.

A knock at the door of the villa draws an inquisitive glare from you as you shoot daggers at your friend who has her head in the fridge.

“What did you do?” you ask, wiping your hands on a towel and heading towards the door.

You pull open the door to find a smiling Jaehyun, looking absolutely ethereal in a knit orange sleeveless shirt, muscular arms accentuated by the cut of the fabric. It’s half tucked into mustard linen pants and he’s wearing some beaded bracelets and a necklace dotted with pearls and dainty charms.

“Hi,” he says quietly, pushing forward to brush his lips across your cheek, hand finding your hip naturally and squeezing gently.

You close the door with a shake of your head as you watch him slide his shoes off and move to the kitchen to present a bottle of expensive ouzo to your friend who is smiling huge at his arrival.

“I thought it would be nice for Jaehyun to join us for dinner on his last night here, don’t you think?” she asks, mischief clear across your face.

All you can do is smile and shake your head at her and let Jaehyun pull you closer to him as he sits on a tall barstool.

“Is it okay I came?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours after he speaks.

“Of course, of course it is. I was going to come by the hotel in the morning for breakfast before we left and bring you your shirt anyways,” you reply, leaning forward to capture his lips in yours softly.

You hadn’t quite figured out how to manage the week full of tender moments with the two gorgeous men you met on the island. But now Jaehyun stood in front of you, looking radiant and strong, stoic but still warm and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Your mind flew forward years into the future, wondering what it would be like to date or even marry an executive at a luxury hospitality company, jet setting around the world and working for your company remotely, spending evenings and weekends with him in private dining rooms and lavish suites.

“I’m going to go clip some flowers from the front of the house for the table,” your friend offers, breaking into your foggy and far away mind, pulling you back to reality. You part from Jaehyun, moving to place the cold bottle he brought into the freezer to let it continue to chill and offer him a beer from the fridge.

“Well well well, look who I found outside,” your friend calls from the door as you pull your head back up, two bottles gripped in between your fingers. You almost drop them as Jaemin rounds the corner, a large bouquet of flowers held in his hands. He’s dressed casually, tan cargo shorts and a shirt that faintly says “Save the Turtles!”, hair damp and sticking to his forehead and back of his neck.

“Jaemin…” you start, catching one of the bottles as it starts to slip before Jaehyun moves towards you and takes them from you to open them. His eyes are narrow as he looks at Jaemin, steely gaze cold and unreadable.

You cross the kitchen and grip your friend tightly on her forearm, dragging her into your bedroom, offering little more than a weak smile to Jaemin as you brush past him.

“What the hell were you thinking?! Inviting them both here?” you ask her, wanting so badly to scream, but trying to maintain some level of control over the situation.

“Oh calm down, you know you wanted to see them both again before we leave and I know you. You would have sat here moaning and weighing the pros and cons for so long that it would have been too late. So I made the choice for you! And you can make the decision who you want to end the night with in your bed,” she finishes with a wink, dragging a finger under her eye to clean the smudged mascara there.

Dinner is far less awkward than you thought it would be, pleasant conversation being held by your friend and Jaemin, both extroverted Leos never happy leaving uncomfortable silence. Jaehyun chimes in every once and a while, making small comments and answering questions when asked, but mostly spending his time focusing his gaze on his water glass or making eye contact with you as he reaches out under the table to squeeze your knee.

Jaemin only makes a few jabs at Jaehyun’s expense, one about his company’s lack of focus on ecological conservation and another at his “bottle blonde bimbo hair”. You run fingertips lightly through said hair, muttering a soft compliment in his direction, to which Jaemin just smiles and asks if Jaehyun’s curtains match the drapes.

Jaemin is a few beers in and offers to get more salad from the kitchen for the table, returning to throw an arm loosely around the back of your chair. Jaehyun doesn’t even look towards the gesture, instead pushing up the fabric at your knee to rub small circles on your skin with his thumb, taking a long drink of water. Jaemin’s fingers are brushing across your exposed back, pushing your hair out of the way to let him caress you there.

You gulp audibly and take a long sip of wine, suddenly feeling like the room is a thousand degrees hotter as your friends bring frosty gelato out and the ouzo bottle is finally opened. Jaehyun’s hand is at your knee again and your legs are crossed at this point, thighs pushing together in desperate attempts to regulate your heart rate.

Suddenly, you feel a second hand at your knee and you dart worried eyes over to Jaemin, who is beaming like the Cheshire Cat. You flip your gaze over to Jaehyun, who despite the fact that his fingers are now brushing up against the other man’s doesn’t move his hand and if anything, leans more into the touch. Just as Jaemin’s hand makes a bold move to slide under the hem of your short and flowy skirt, you clear your throat, causing them both to pull away.

“Maybe we can go down to the beach? Take the drinks there? It’s getting a little warm in here,” you croak out, meeting the cheeky gaze of your best friend across the table.

“I think we will stay in and clean up, but you kids go have fun,” she laughs out, sipping from her wine glass as her partner plants a kiss on her shoulder. You give her one final glare before following the two men (your two dates?) out the door of the villa and down the rocky path to the beach.

The sun has fully disappeared into the horizon an hour later and the ouzo bottle is almost empty as you each slam a glass down on the tray. Jaemin stands and says he has to pee, wandering off to a darker and secluded area of the beach as you wiggle closer to Jaehyun and he adjusts to let you sit in between his legs, facing him.

“Having fun?” he asks, voice even as he brushes a strand of hair caught on your eyelash.

“Are you? I’m sure this is way more than you agreed to when my friend invited you to dinner,” you reply, worry lacing your voice. You enjoyed your time with both of them this week and part of you was still afraid to make any sort of decision (as if a decision were needed during brief holiday flings) because you knew it meant admitting you liked one of them more than the other.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that,” he replied, pulling your lips to his and kissing you gently. His hand finds your elbow and pulls you closer to him, drawing out goosebumps from your skin.

“Yeah, pretty girls like you should just be accessories on a rich man’s arm, don’t you know that, silly,” comes Jaemin’s loud voice from behind you, drawing a glare from Jaehyun as he breaks the kiss and pulls back.

You feel Jaemin behind you, dropping a strong hand down to your shoulder before moving it to your neck, tracing along the sides with his long fingers before finding that same comfortable grip that made your toes curl in his room a few nights earlier.

Jaehyun smirks at the sight, dropping his own hand to the hem of your skirt, sliding along your thighs and quickly finding the edge of your panties. You gasp as he slips underneath the fabric and traces slow circles along you, arousal building there and collecting on his soft fingers. Jaemin drops to his knees, pushing your shirt up to grope at your chest from behind you, dipping his lips down to mouth at your neck. The scents of the colognes are mixing together in perfect harmony, somehow working so well despite being opposite notes and undertones.

You blink back the urge to let your eyes flutter shut and sit in near silence, save the small whines that slip out of your parted lips as you are overwhelmed with the feeling of the two of you touching you at the same time. You had thought the brushing of their hands against each other at the dining room had been an accident and that both of them were playing it cool. That now appears to be far from the truth.

“Alright, Mr. Big Shot, I know you have some sort of big ass suite with a California King that will fit all three of us, so what are we waiting for,” Jaemin winks at you as he throws an arm around the other man’s neck, dragging his lips to Jaehyun’s waiting ones and running that wicked tongue against the roof of his mouth. Jaehyun kisses him back feverishly, gripping at his hip the same way he had touched you countless times before and even chases Jaemin’s lips when he finally pulls away.

“Oh so now you don’t mind coming to the capitalist hellscape that is the hotel bringing consistent tourism revenue to this town?” Jaehyun bites back, cupping Jaemin’s strong jaw and running his thumb along his bottom lip to clean the saliva that had gathered there from their steamy kiss.

You gulp hard, eyes taking in the sight of the two of them lip-locked and suck in a deep, centering breath.

You knew that this night was far from over and that this vacation was one you would never forget.

#nct smut #nct x reader #nct fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaemin x reader #2jae

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cutielando · 1 year

Note

hi, so could you write an imagine Theo x. Reader, that reader finds out that Theo is working with the dread doctors and that he killed Scott and hurt the sheriff, and feels betrayed and asks him if what they had was ever been real etc. And then Theo then says that the dread doctors were gonna kill her if he didn't kill Scott and that it Was real... i don't know just you keep going with the flow and pls let there be like lots of fluff and a happy ending. Thank you!!!!

my masterlist

“He’s working for them, YN”

These words keep swirling around in your head, your chest heavy with pain.

You still felt like you couldn’t breathe, that what you heard wasn’t true and it was all a big misunderstanding. Theo couldn’t be working for the Dread Doctors. Not him, not your boyfriend. He was sweet and gentle and always helped you.

It just couldn’t be him.

Oh, but it was.

That little voice inside of your head was confirming what your heart didn’t want to acknowledge.

You heard someone knocking on your front door before you heard “Y/N?”, a voice which you immediately recognized.

Theo.

You got up from your bed and made your way downstairs, grateful that your parents weren’t home for the week. You stayed hidden in the shadows so he couldn’t see you through the window.

“Y/N, I know you’re home. Please just open the door and let me explain” his voice sounded so broken, which made a part of you want to open the door and let your feelings take over.

But he betrayed your trust. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall into yet another of his traps like you foolishly did the first time.

“Please go away” your voice spoke before your mind could stop you.

“Y/N, I can explain everything, just please hear me out. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, this wasn’t part of the plan. Please just let me explain what happened and you can decide what you want to do after. I’m begging you” you were holding back tears as you listened to him, your forehead pressed against your front door.

You knew how much of a mistake you were about to make, but you couldn’t help it. Your hand found its way to the doorknob, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal a desperate looking Theo.

“Come in” you left the door open and made your way to the living room to take a seat on your couch, knowing that he was going to follow you.

You sat down and looked at him expectantly, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“Can I take a seat?” he motioned to the other end of the couch, looking at you for approval.

Once you nodded your head, he took a seat and took a deep breath.

“I never meant for this to happen, for things to spiral out of control and possibly put your life in any kind of danger. Hurting you or the pack was never my intention. Baby, they were going to kill you, said if I didn’t do what they asked me, they were going to kill all of you, torture you right in front of me. I couldn’t take any chances, not when your life was practically in my hands. I promised you I was never going to hurt you and I intend to keep that promise. It was supposed to be over, but they just kept making me do more and more and each time they would figure out new ways in which they could hurt you and I couldn’t allow that to happen. I’m sorry for everything, I never meant for this to happen, baby. You have to believe me” by the end of his speech, you had tears falling down your cheeks at a rapid pace.

“Was any of it real?” you whispered, your eyes focusing on anything else but Theo.

“Every single second with you was real, baby. There wasn’t a single moment when being with you was fake or pretending, not one. I love you, and I’m so sorry for lying to you and keeping things from you, hurting you. Everything I did was to protect you, baby. Everything” he dared to take your hand in his, his hopes lifting a little when you didn’t pull away.

You knew you shouldn’t believe him. He had been lying to you almost your entire relationship and hiding the fact that he was working for the enemy.

But you did believe him. Your heart truly believed everything he had said to you. Why? Because you knew Theo, your Theo, and he would never intentionally do anything that would harm you or your friends. He would never betray you like that if he had a choice, which he clearly hadn’t been given.

“I wish you had just told me from the beginning” you started out, making his head snap up to look at you. “I probably would’ve understood. You lied to me and hurt my friends, and that’s fucked up. I love you, Theo, and I do believe that this wasn’t your choice. But baby, it’s going to take me a while before I trust you again. I’m willing to fight for us, but I need time to process everything before things can go back to normal” you explained, putting a hand on his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, his heart feeling full again after being ripped out of his chest.

“You take all the time you need, baby. I’ll be right here waiting for you to come back to me. I love you, and I would go to the end of the Earth to make sure you were safe and loved. I love you, Y/N”

“I love you, Theo” you whispered and leaned in, pressing your lips against his soft ones.

He wasn’t perfect, and he had made mistakes, but you loved him either way and nothing was going to change that.

Not even this.

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saiilorstars · 3 months

Text

Ch. 36: A Magician

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @midmourn

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Aitana felt utterly guilty having to miss the preliminary presentation of the newest case, but nobody would make it harder on her by being stingy about it. Her classes for the new quarter were slightly more overwhelming than the first.

"I promise I will get my act together," she declared once they were in the jet. She was quick to look over the file Penelope so graciously put together for her at the BAU.

"You're fine, Aitana," Emily rubbed Aitana's arm comfortingly on her way to an empty seat. Aitana hadn't even sat down, instead choosing to lean against the side of an empty seat to read the file.

They were heading to Kansas, right to the center of tornadoes, something Aitana silently dreaded. She was not one for tornadoes of any kind.

"If this unsub is using tornadoes as a forensic countermeasure, then Kansas certainly is the ideal setting," said Morgan.

"Tornadoes do pose a significant threat," Spencer chimed in, "During this year's super outbreak back in April, there were 336 confirmed tornadoes in just several days, resulting in over 300 lives lost."

"Hey!" Penelope's face popped on the monitor behind them.

"Tell us something good, mama," Morgan said, though he knew there wasn't much to say on this matter.

"Ok, so local P. D. Have ID'd your victims. I'm putting this all on your tablets if you'd like to follow along." Penelope gave them a couple seconds to gather the tablets before continuing. "First up is Jason Meredith, 16-year-old runaway from Garden City, Kansas. Mom said he took off over a year ago. Next up is Eric Janelle, 15-year-old foster kid from Wichita. He's been gone 3 weeks. Oh, both of these kids have records for possession and prostitution."

"They were street hustlers," Rossi remarked. "At-risk kids. This could be a sexual predator."

"An extremely violent one if the unsub is responsible for the damage done to the bodies, especially those missing limbs," Hotch said.

"Well, now, he could be keeping the body parts for some sort of fetish," JJ theorized, prompting Penelope to audibly gag.

"Oh, ok, eew! That is my cue. I'm here if you need me with my binary machines that don't say gross things!" And with that, Penelope signed off.

Just as the team began to put their tablets down, a decent turbulence rocked the jet. Aitana nearly slipped from her comfortable spot. It happened twice after that. Rossi even felt the need to do a silent prayer for their sake.

"I didn't know you were a bad flyer," JJ said, noting how pale Rossi had gone in these last minutes.

"I'm not. I just hate turbulence," Rossi clarified.

"You know, turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash," said Spencer, although Rossi still didn't loosen up.

"That does me absolutely no good at the moment. Thank you."

Spencer didn't let Rossi have a moment to rest before he started spewing out some facts. "What we really need to worry about are microbursts, sudden downbursts of air associated with thunderstorms. But a small craft like this, if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude —" He mimicked the sound of a crash,, going as far as gesturing it with a hand as well, "—pulverized."

Rossi was downright terrified with what he was hearing. The others were close to laughing. "I beg of you to make him stop," he pleaded with JJ sitting beside Spencer.

All JJ could do was shrug in that situation. Nothing stopped Spencer once he got started, absolutely noth—

"Hey Spencer, can you sit with me for a bit?" Aitana had stopped beside him with her file in her arms. "I have to tell you something."

JJ bobbed her head as she reconsidered her initial thought. Spencer didn't question Aitana; he simply nodded and moved with her to the seats at the end of the jet.

As soon as they sat together, Aitana spilled what she'd been holding in for a while. "She set a date."

For the first time in his life, Spencer had no idea what Aitana was talking about. "Huh?" It felt so weird not knowing — not remembering? — what she was talking about with him. Alarming, even.

"My grandmother — she booked a flight. It's official now. She's coming to see me dance."

"Oh." Spencer felt relief washing over him. The alarm went away as well. Aitana's grandmother had expressed interest in seeing her dance competition since it was the first time Aitana would dance in years. "Well that's great, isn't it?"

Aitana's face seemed far from it. "I told you Spencer. What if I'm not good anymore? It's been years…"

"But you've been practicing for months now," Spencer reminded her. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation again.

"I know!" Aitana let her head fall against the table with a thud! Spencer wondered if she would have a bruise on her forehead later on. Right now, her curly hair was splattered all around her head.

"Um, well…" Times like these, Spencer hated even more that he royally sucked at conversations like these. He wished he could help Aitana more but he seemed to have even more trouble with her in comparison to the rest of the team. He tried his hardest to come up with at least one decent thing to say to Aitana but she pulled her head up from the table too early.

"I'll have to practice more. I'll have to move some things around but I can do it." She nodded to herself, clearly reciting it in order to believe it. "Yeah, I can totally do this. Totally."

All Spencer did was nod with her but inside he felt completely useless for her. He didn't like it at all.

~ 0 ~

The scene was a mess. Aitana, Emily and Morgan walked through the crime scene with the lead detective on the case. It was a terrible sight. The tornado had taken everything around and chucked it out in random places — in pieces. Aitana couldn't help shudder every now and then.

"The guy was torn up pretty bad. Thought we'd find his arms, but we never did," said a detective as they walked through the dirt path, "Found him right over there." He made a nod up ahead but with the condition of the place, it was hard for the agents to pinpoint the exact spot.

"Well, the unsub definitely has his own mode of transportation," said Morgan as he glanced back in the direction they had come from. "This is way off the beaten path. And the first victim, Jason Meredith, was found over 30 miles away."

"And you say you were able to clear this place before the storm hit?" Aitana wouldn't hide her disbelief in the alleged claim. The way everything was destroyed made it hard to believe anything could be done prior to the tornado. "I didn't know you could do that for tornadoes."

"When we get enough lead time, we try to clear all the mobile home parks," said the detective, "The last place you want to be in a twister is in a trailer. We close off the main roads, too."

"Ok, so the unsub either found a way in or he was already here and he hid during the evacuation," theorized Emily, "That, or the body got sucked up into the funnel cloud and was thrown here from someplace else."

"Either way, he came into close contact with this storm," Aitana said,, "Maybe even close enough to put himself in danger. Or he waited someplace safe for it to pass and came back and dumped the body."

"No, I think the storm itself actually means something to this guy," Morgan's comment made the group pause.

"You don't think he's just using it to cover his tracks?" asked the detective.

"I played ball in college with a guy from Indiana. He said he and his boys used to get drunk and then chase storms. Said it was the closest they could get to the true power of God."

"I saw an F3 when I was in high school. He wasn't kidding," the detective agreed.

"People willingly chase tornadoes?" That time, Aitana didn't even attempt to hide her shudder. "What kind of morons do that?"

Emily spared her a smile. "Ok, so he's impulsive, probably young, maybe a loner with nothing to lose. We should be looking at actual storm-chasers. Where can we find them?"

"They mostly work with the university," said the detective. "You think this guy's educated?"

"Well, he knows enough about the weather to use it to his advantage," Morgan shrugged. It was the logical step from there. "So far it's working."

~ 0 ~

Returning to the precinct, the group regathered to relay what each side had learned. Unfortunately, it wasn't a lot.

The first victim only gave the group the idea that the unsub had been, at one point in his life, a street boy. From the morgue, they learned that the unsub tied victims and amputated them postmortem. The crime scene told them the unsub was almost an expert chasing tornadoes, knowing how to use them to his advantage.

By the next day, they had another victim to look at. This time the young man was in limbs, sprawled on the ground with the torso missing.

Aitana started to think it was better to stay in the precinct. The scenery and the limbs mixed together made things twice as bad. She could still feel the lingering chill of the past storm.

"Name's Gary Dyson," the detective read off his notes. "Sixteen. Runaway from Kansas City. A couple of my guys have seen him before. ID.'d him off the tattoos on what's left of his arms."

"This particular area get hit with a tornado last night?" asked Morgan.

"Thunderstorms came through. Warnings went out, but no twisters."

"And yet this place is still a mess," Aitana remarked, setting her hands on her hips. "But the weather's gotta be the trigger. He's following the patterns. We track the storms, we find the unsub."

"Forensic evidence has been washed away," the detective said as a means of discouragement.

Spencer thought differently. "But behaviorally, it's the most intact crime scene we've encountered so far. It's the same blow to the head, but no cuts, no abrasions."

"Except he's missing his torso," Morgan pointed out. "It was only a matter of time before he missed one."

"Tornadoes are extremely unpredictable and sometimes last only a matter of minutes before they dissipate. The fact that he was able to leave his previous victims directly in the path of one is astounding," said Spencer, putting a lot of emphasis on it to get his point across.

"So the conditions were perfect last night, but his tornado never came," nodded Aitana. "It's only been 4 days. He's accelerating. And the weather's driving him to do it."

"Guys, we know that fetishists are loyal to the body parts they take, but I think that this unsub is loyal to the whole of these parts," Spencer said as he moved around the limbs, eyeing them carefully for their specific position, "If you were to take the missing pieces from all the victims so far, you could almost assemble an entire body."

"Ah, so we're doing Frankenstein now…" Aitana blinked slowly, letting her hands come on her sides. The precise case just kept getting better and better.

With the new knowledge they has from the latest victim, building a preliminary profile was easier and quicker.

"We're looking for a white male in his mid- to late-20s," Hotch led the group first, "He's mobile and he travels great distances to follow storms. He's probably in a truck or a van."

"We believe he may live in that vehicle. It's probably beat up, maybe rusted from the elements," Rossi said next.

Everyone ignored JJ's cell phone going off. She quickly cut the call off anyways. "Jeffrey Dahmer, serial killer, was under the delusion they he could create young male sex zombies that wouldn't resist his advances," she then said.

"And when Dahmer's test subjects died, he kept their body parts as souvenirs," went Emily.

"Skulls, hearts, even genitalia," added Spencer.

"Restoring body parts is no small task. They're gonna get ripe fast," Aitana said, "He needs lots of ice, salt, maybe, something to preserve them. And he's paying for all that stuff somehow. He doesn't have the social skills to hold a job for long, so he's most likely a day laborer, handyman, or anything transitory."

"We think he's using the weather as a forensic countermeasure to destroy evidence, but we also think he might be some sort of symphoraphiliac," said Spencer, prompting one of the officers to interrupt.

"Sorry, symphora what?"

"Symphoraphiliacs — they're sexually aroused by disaster. Usually fires or traffic accidents. In this case, the weather must enhance his excitement."

Once again JJ's cell phone started buzzing. This time, she took off to go answer it.

"He hunts street kids, so he may be from a similar background," Emily went on, "And he's most likely uneducated, but he's still charming enough to engage his victims."

"We'll talk to the press," Hotch said both as a fact and as a warning for the other officers not to go anywhere near the media.. "You should warn any transient kids you might know. As this weather gets worse, so will the unsub."

The team quickly dispersed the rest of the officers to begin the search. Weather was indeed getting worse by the minute and so soon enough, their search in the night would come to an end.

"Hey, is JJ alright? I haven't seen her in a while," Emily said the others once they were gathered in the meeting room. JJ had been gone for a while, ever since they delivered the profile and had yet to be seen.

"Me too," Morgan just now realized.

"Maybe she's handling another assignment," Rossi said just as Aitana walked into the room.

"I'll tell you what I'm done handling," the brunette woman said and planted her hands on the table, "The media."

Bemused, Emily asked Aitana what was wrong.

"I hate tornadoes," Aitana spat, her lip curling with disdain. "Half the questions I got were about the tornadoes. Like, I'm so sorry but I can't control the weather." Her eyes looked up at the long windows high above them. The night was dark and yet constantly illuminated by the crashing thunder.

"You're scared of tornadoes," Rossi corrected her.

Aitana pointed at him. "Absolutely. I can handle anything else but not tornadoes. And then with this media stuff, it complicates everything even more. I can't get through to some newsites because of the tornadoes cutting the power off. And then, you know, you get the stupid questions about the weather."

"Okay, Sprinkles, why not have a seat," Morgan gestured to the open seat beside him. "I'll protect you from the big bad tornadoes."

Aitana rolled her eyes but her facade of annoyance was cut short when thunder crashed again and she jumped. The others chuckled.

"I want to go home," Aitana said with an unimaginable wide pout. She did indeed take the seat next to Morgan. The latter couldn't help but laugh again.

"Hey," Spencer came striding into the room with Hotch behind him. "I know how the unsub first got started." He went directly to the clear board at the end of the table and grabbed a marker. "So the first victim was found missing his right leg, the second, both arms, and the third had no torso." He drew a simple stick figure to represent the limbs they had found so far. "So that leaves the left leg and the head unaccounted for. We can assume the head would be the most difficult piece to find."

"That part would have to fit an unsub's fantasy perfectly," Rossi said. They could leave that for last on their list of priorities.

Spencer agreed with Rossi. "So he'd most likely save it for last. Now, what that tells us is there's a victim out there we haven't found yet who's missing his left leg."

"Or the unsub hasn't acquired it yet," reasoned Emily.

"True, but most body part collectors evolve to this level, and in many cases they exhumes bodies for parts before they start killing."

Bearing that in mind, the group called in Penelope to start the search.

"Garcia, can you look for grave robberies in tornado alley over the last 5 years?" Spencer directed as soon as she was ready.

"Okey-dokey. Searching. Oh…that's a shockingly big list. Who knew grave-robbing was so on trend?"

Unfortunately, the entire team did.

"How many of those involve the bodies of teenage boys?" asked Spencer.

"Uh... None."

"What about morgues and funeral homes?"

"Again, that is a list that should not be that big. Mostly stolen embalming fluid, though."

"It's often used like PCP, Garcia," said Morgan.

"I'm feeling optimistic about the youth of America. There are no teenagers involved in this either."

"Let's just skip to the grain then," said Aitana right before she asked Penelope to try a new search involving stolen body parts, more specifically the left leg.

"Ok, eew!" Penelope practically shuddered. "See, this is why I can't talk about how my day was at dinner. Breakfast, lunch. Aitana, you scare me."

"I wasn't the one who thought of it," grumbled Aitana, "Spencer did."

"Ah, that makes more sense."

Spencer deadpanned the phone.

Penelope went on to read the information she had found on their missing left leg. "A left leg was stolen off a body a year ago at the Riggio Funeral Home in Tulsa. They never found who did it."

"Garcia, what was the weather like in the area at the time?" asked Hotch.

"Uh, thunderstorms and tornadoes. An F2 cyclone hit right around there, and then the robbery took place after they evacuated."

"It's gotta be our unsub," Emily concluded much like the others had.

"Wait, there's more. The guy whose leg was stolen, he was a 47-year-old father of 2 who died of leukemia."

"That's a huge jump. Preferential child sex offenders don't usually stray from their preferred age range," said Rossi. Most of them were confused as well.

"It's not about the sex at all. He used the body from the funeral home to develop his M. O," said Spencer, "So he could live out his fantasy and kill in a storm."

"It still doesn't explain what or who he's building," Morgan reminded them of the big remaining hole in their case.

"That could range from a friend to a family member to a partner," Aitana shrugged. "Unfortunately we won't find that out until we get more on the unsub. Aka: the head."

~ 0 ~

As the night progressed, the storm grew worse. Aitana actually felt for Emily and Rossi who had been tasked with talking to the storm chasers near the local university. At the same time, though, she was thrilled that she didn't need to step outside the precinct. She would much rather lock herself in the conference room doing more research.

Outside in the bullpen, JJ was still trying to find flights home. Morgan and Spencer joined her out of sheer confusion of her presence.

"There's no flights anywhere," JJ informed them with a heavy sigh. Henry was out of the hospital, yes, but she still needed to be there with him. She couldn't really concentrate on anything else besides her son.

"Maybe the weather will be better tomorrow," Spencer said as a means of comfort. All JJ could do was nod and hope he was right.

"Okay, so, what do you guys need help with right now?" she asked in an effort to try and distract herself.

"We're waiting for Prentiss and Rossi to come back from the university," Morgan said, "And I think Serrano and Hotch are going over the media proceedings."

"Uh, not exactly…" said JJ with narrowed eyes as she watched Hotch leave the conference room.

"Aitana did say the broadcastings weren't going well," Spencer nodded, "They must have gotten side-tracked again with the weather."

"Mm, maybe we should go see what happened," JJ suggested.

Morgan was taking a few steps forwards but peering towards the conference room instead. "Serrano's still inside. She does not look very happy." He smiled knowingly.

"With the situation, who is," muttered JJ before taking off after Hotch.

Spencer went to follow when Morgan grabbed his arm, subtly keeping him back. "What are you–?"

"Hotch doesn't need all of us crowding around him," Morgan said, letting go of Spencer's arm. "I think one of us should go into the conference room. And by that I mean you." Spencer was making a face when Morgan went on. "Serrano said she's afraid of tornadoes and right now it looks like she's about to pass out from fear."

"That bad?" Spencer curiously asked. He tried leaning forwards enough to catch sight of the room but Morgan blocked his way.

Morgan shrugged. "Don't know, but maybe a few distractions wouldn't come bad." He patted Spencer's arm, giving him the space to go.

"What am I supposed to do?" Spencer cluelessly asked. Morgan went ahead and started ushering Spencer forwards.

"You're a genius – think of something." Morgan's wise words were of no use to Spencer.

Before he knew it, Spencer was walking through the door and startling Aitana. She looked back from the clear board with widened eyes. As soon as she saw who it was, she relaxed.

"Sorry," she bit on her bottom lip, "I'm a little jumpy right now."

Spencer thought Morgan was absolutely right. Aitana was pale as a ghost, ready to collapse out of sheer fear.

"Can I – do you want some coffee?" Spencer asked, thinking that at least a cup of warm coffee would be a kind of comfort for Aitana. Unfortunately, Aitana shook her head.

"My stomach is in literal knots," she said, rubbing circles over her stomach. "I think I should stay away from caffeine."

"Oh, um…sorry…" Spencer rubbed the side of his neck, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't able to think of something else on the spot. Morgan was right – he was a genius, why couldn't he think of something fast?"

"It's not your fault that I'm a scaredy cat," Aitana's voice was shaky. She yelped when thunder crashed. It further proved her point. "I'm sorry." She preferred to turn away to avoid further embarrassment.

Spencer felt for her. "It's alright. Everyone's afraid of something. And, actually, we need fear."

"Ha," Aitana's tone was full of disbelief.

"We do," Spencer insisted. "Fear is what helps determine how we stay safe. It's linked back to basic survival."

"Well, I'm trying very hard to stay safe then…or whatever…" Aitana was uncharacteristically sour and because Spencer knew it was from fear, he looked around for something.

This time, it came naturally to him.

"Hey Aitana, what did you find here?"

The question would of course make Aitana turn around. When she did, Spencer was sifting through some papers on the table.

"Oh, um, casualties of the tornadoes so far," she replied. She moved to Spencer's side, watching him pick up a pencil she left lying on the edge. "Don't tell me – you found a mistake?" She wouldn't put it behind her to make silly, stupid mistakes right now.

"Don't worry," Spencer said easily. He reached inside his left pocket and took out a coin.

"Are you going to buy something from the machines?" Aitana asked. Their attempts to order take-out had long been abandoned. They were running on the soda and chip machines in the bullpen.

"Maybe later." Spencer seemed focused on his pencil. He was rubbing the eraser furiously against the coin. Suddenly, the pencil was going through the coin.

Aitana's eyes couldn't have been any wider. "What the hell?"

Spencer smiled cheerily at her. He had her attention now. He showed her the full angle of the coin and Aitana swore the pencil was going all the way through the coin and yet when Spencer separated the two objects, the coin was intact.

"No!" She exclaimed, snatching the coin from him to examine it herself. "That's not – how did you do that!?" Her eyes were snapping up at him, mouth hanging in an 'o' shape.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh, albeit gently. "I told you I do magic tricks."

"No you don't! You're not a wizard!" Aitana stomped her foot yet started laughing herself. "This isn't Harry Potter!"

"No, it's not," Spencer agreed with her. He gently plucked the coin from her hand and in return gave her the pencil to hold. He put the coin down on the table and knowing that he was going to be doing another trick, Aitana leaned close to watch carefully.

Spencer rubbed a hand over the coin slowly and in circles. He then started lifting his palm off the table until only his middle finger rubbed the table. And then suddenly, the coin was gone.

"No way!" Aitana practically shrieked, pulling Spencer's hand right off the table completely to inspect herself. "How the – you are a wizard!"

"I'm actually not," Spencer said as if the news was heartbreaking to him. It elicited a soft laugh from Aitana. It sounded…nice.

"How do you do that?" Aitana asked through her laughs.

"Magic..."

"Oh, right, right," Aitana bobbed her head, "A magician never reveals their secrets."

"I mean…" Spencer shrugged with his own wide smile.

Aitana jumped with another crash of thunder. It drew her attention towards the windows again. She gulped. Spencer was fast when he left the room, coming back only a couple seconds later. Aitana hadn't even noticed it with the constant crash of thunder.

"Aitana," he called to her gently. Her gaze flickered back to him; he was standing right in front of her. He had the coin again and a sharpie.

"What are you…?"

"Just focus on my hands, okay?"

Aitana's eyes drifted to the windows for a second. "But the…"

"Trust me," Spencer insisted, motioning her to pay attention.

Aitana nodded and started watching him instead. He tapped the cap of the sharpie three times against the coin in his palm. At the third, his hand seemed to jump and suddenly the coin was gone.

Aitana's eyes dazzled at the magic. "Where's it…?"

Before she could finish her question, Spencer uncapped the sharpie and showed Aitana it was empty inside before somehow dumping the coin on his palm. He'd somehow gotten the coin to fall out of the cap after all!?

Aitana's dazzlement lit up her entire face. "Oh my goodness! You did that! You really did that!" She would have to get over asking how he did it because she would probably never understand. Plus, why ruin the magic?

Spencer was a grinning mess much like Aitana. It was odd how elated he felt seeing he successfully helped Aitana forget the ongoing storm outside. He didn't think he ever felt like that before. And when Aitana sheepishly asked him if he could show her another one, he was more than willing to keep showing her tricks for the rest of the night if it meant taking her mind completely off the storm outside.

~ 0 ~

That same night, the team got word that another boy had been taken, although with a huge difference from all the previous victims.

"So the younger brother of Shaun Rutledge, Billy, says that a young white guy in an RV attacked him with a crowbar in the rain," Aitana relayed her notes to the group as soon as she was done talking with the family. There were very big concerning factors that pointed to a spiraling from the unsub.

"He's changed his victim selection criteria," JJ voiced Aitana's thoughts. Penelope had already done some digging on their victim. "The boy he grabbed gets straight As, plays football, even volunteers at his church. So he wanted him so badly, he was willing to leave a witness?"

"Very," Aitana replied, "Billy says the unsub tried talking to them at least twice before attacking. And in different spots."

"Which suggests he's losing touch with reality and his delusions are starting to take over," said Spencer, prompting the concern to rise.

"What is it about this kid that was so attractive to him?" asked Emily. There was nothing specifically pointing to a clear answer.

"He was teenage and Caucasian like the others," Aitana said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to point at the clear board. "Other than that, there's not much of a difference."

"So then what the hell is driving this guy?" Morgan was left to ask.

A few minutes of silence fell over the group as they worked to figure out the answer. In the end, JJ came up with a theory.

"What if he's trying to recreate someone he loves? It is an emotion that drives us to extremes. If he's trying to recreate someone, it's probably somebody he loved and lost."

"That would make sense," Aitana nodded slowly, "And Shaun was with his little brother…"

The group called in Garcia asking her to go over past victims and tornadoes in search of a victim that would fit their unsub's current profile.

"Okay, so there's only 10 victims with younger brothers who survived," Penelope informed them after a deep and thorough search.

"The unsub might have been a high-risk kid," said Hotch, "Garcia, how many of the survivors have criminal records?"

"I got two for you. First up is 27-year-old Justin Harris, had a DUI in 2008. Next is 22-year-old Travis James. Ooh, little troublemaker. Shoplifting, possession, and prostitution. Oh, my. And all when he was a minor."

"You got a home address or a vehicle registered in his name?" asked Rossi, thinking this would be their unsub, much like the others.

"Uh-uh. None."

Morgan went down a different path. "You got a photo on this guy?"

"It's on your tablet right now!"

Each of their tablets dinged with a notification. Morgan picked up his and turned the screen on. Aitana brought him the composite sketch that Billy had described of the unsub. It was a perfect match.

"In 2001, Travis James lost his big brother Tucker and his mom Jan when a tornado hit the McCleary Trailer Park in Enid, Oklahoma," Penelope briefly read aloud.

"That's just south of here," Hotch said "So our guy's a local."

Suddenly, the lights went out, leaving everyone in the dark.

"Hang on, Garcia. The power just went out!" Hotch warned the technical analyst before she decided to send them more information.

At the same time, thunder crashed. Aitana regretfully squeaked; she was back on the fear train. She startled again when she felt something on her back. Seconds later, she realized it was Spencer who had placed his hand on the middle of her back.

I'm such a child, Aitana said to herself. And yet she couldn't deny the comfort she felt knowing Spencer was right beside her. She preferred not to think more about it. Maybe the dark isn't such a bad thing.

The lights didn't return but the generators kicked in and allowed for the continuing use of the internet.

"Garcia, I think we're good. Keep going," Hotch instructed the blonde.

"Sometime before this evil tornado touched down, Travis, along with 5 other boys, testified against a one Roscoe Gulch. It appears that this Gulch character was a notorious pedophile in the area, and he was a resident of the same trailer park as Travis and his family. I'm looking at police reports now. It looks like brother Tucker had confronted this Gulch person lots of times. He even broke the creep's nose once."

"He was protecting his little brother," Emily nodded, knowing well that this must have been the reason the unsub took Shaun earlier.

"Ohh. And then the plot thickens. According to a statement from Travis, right after Gulch was acquitted, he and his brother went to Gulch's mobile home. A fight ensued. Travis said it was like his big brother went crazy. He heard tornado sirens soon after. He then ran to a drainage pipe nearby. After that, Tucker and Gulch somehow got trapped in the mobile home when the twister hit. Travis said he saw the mobile home get swallowed up by the tornado. And when he came out there was nothing left."

"Garcia, how old was Tucker when he was killed?" asked Morgan.

"Seventeen. He was found in pieces. It took his DNA and dental records to I. D. him. Travis went into foster care and he was reported missing in 2003. He ran away."

"Ten years ago his brother got ripped apart, and now he's trying to put him back together?" Rossi said, sounding utterly confused. "But why start killing now?"

"Garcia, send me current weather reports for the area, including radar images if you have them," instructed Hotch. He moved around the table to pick up a tablet.

"Ask and you shall receive. It is on your tablets!"

"With the weather in the area, he's going to be so excited, he won't wait," Hotch said to the others. "He'll take the boy to the closest area with the most activity."

When thunder crashed again, Spencer glanced at the windows. He paid close attention to the lightning now beginning to fall. It was all coming down quicker and stronger.

"It's Frankenstein," he realized,, eyes falling on Aitana who was doing her utter best to focus on her tablet and not the weather around them.

"What?" JJ prompted for the explanation.

"Aitana said it first," Spencer's words pulled Aitana's eyes off off her tablet.

"What I say?" she raised an eyebrow. "Besides my childish squeaks, of course."

"You said it way in the beginning — Frankenstein." Spencer blamed himself for not paying enough attention earlier. If he had, they could've ran with Aitana's guess long before other victims got caught.

"I say a lot of things," Aitana said nervously, "Half of them are probably stupid—"

"No," Spencer quickly dismissed such a statement. "You were onto it. The unsub isn't just trying to put his brother back together, he's trying to bring him back from the dead. He believes that tornadoes have the power to take life, so conversely, they should have the power to restore it."

"He genuinely believes in Frankenstein?" Aitana almost scolded herself for being so surprised. This wasn't the craziest case they handled.

"We need to get going now," Hotch directed the rest of the team to start getting ready.

They each gathered their thickest jackets, which weren't all that thick with this kind of weather.

They piled half and half in two cars and set out on the road. The storms were up and ready, getting stronger by the minute. Aitana would know — she was holding one tablet in her hand as Penelope updated them on the statuses.

"I found your trigger!" Penelope announced over the comms. "A year ago, a tornado ripped through a cemetery near Tulsa. One of the 53 graves that was disturbed was that of Tucker James."

"Ah, well, there's the reason for Frankenstein," Aitana said,, gripping the edges of the tablet. That last lightning sounded way too close to them. And unfortunately Morgan had to drive right to it.

"Garcia, those storm chasers at the university we talked to, they should be out in full force. I'm sending you their number now," they heard Hotch from the other car, "Tell them to be on the lookout for the unsub's RV. And, Garcia, patch into their radio chatter. They'll know where the storms are. We need to head into those areas with the most precipitation!"

"Mhm, so make a right at the next intersection," instructed Penelope, "It should be Pawnee Road."

"Hey, how exactly are we supposed to chase this storm?" asked JJ curiously. None of them had truly discussed the matter until now.

Spencer was more than helpful with the clarifications. "The unsub won't actually chase the storm. To get close to it, you have to get in front of it. It's a little like playing chicken."

"Well I don't like this game," Aitana promptly announced. She couldn't possibly sound anymore like a child and she was eternally grateful that nobody was pointing it out.

"Uh oh," they heard Emily say. "It's frozen!"

A moment later, Aitana did the same thing. She banged the side of her tablet, an old family habit when devices stopped working. "No internet! The weather must be affecting the upload."

"I'm patching Garcia in," Hotch informed the others. "Garcia, we just lost our Internet and we need you to guide us into the storm."

"Consider me your eyes and ears, sir!"

Aitana put her tablet down and resigned herself to stare out the front window. Morgan kept driving forwards until Penelope started giving them directions.

"Ok, guys, a twister has been spotted near Rose Hill just south of your position. The storm-chaser dudes are calling it a landspout!"

"We don't want that one," Spencer was quick to say, "Landspout tornados are relatively insignificant. Look for hook echoes on your monitor."

"Hey, hook echoes. Yeah. Ok, I'm gonna do that. Just tell me what they are!"

"Tell all of us please," they heard Rossi say, causing a small round of chuckles.

Spencer went ahead and explained it anyways. "They're swirling hook-like radar signatures that look surprisingly like what you'd expect them to."

Penelope did her diligence and searched for it on her monitors. "Ok. Uh... No, I don't see anything like that."

"They'll likely form in those red and violet areas on the map."

"I don't see anything that looks even remotely like that – oh wait! Yes, I see it. Oh, that's gotta be it!"

"Where, Garcia?" called Hotch.

"Oh, no, no!"

Everyone could feel the panic setting in Penelope's voice.

"What? What is it?" asked JJ.

"There are two!"

"We'll have to split up," Hotch decided quickly, "Which way, Garcia?"

"Uh, ok. Half of you can stay in your current heading. The other half, make a right on Meadowlark Road!"

"Morgan, take Meadowlark Road," Hotch instructed the other car, "We'll keep going."

"Got it." Morgan took a swift turn to the right as soon as it came up.

A moment later, Penelope called in again with the news that Morgan's car was the closest to their unsub. Morgan had no choice but to pick up speed despite the horrible weather. Aitana's heart raced as soon as she saw an actual tornado up ahead. It was far, yes, but to her it might as well be in front of her.

"What's that up there? Near the old house!" Spencer pointed to a flashing light in the same direction as the tornado Aitana watched.

"That's gotta be him," JJ said, spotting the shape of an RV next to the old house.

Morgan came to a stop as quickly as possible and then the four were climbing out just as fast. Behind them, the lead detective was also getting out of his car to join them.

"Travis James!" Morgan called to the brunette man across from them. "FBI! Put the weapon down!"

Their unsub turned out to be almost young looking. He was holding Shaun at knife – or jack hammer – hold.

"You get back!" Travis yelled at them urgently.

"We can't do that, Travis!"

"I said get back!"

"Are you hard of hearing or something?" JJ snapped.

Aitana silently drew back. Spencer figured it was the close proximity of the tornado getting to her and he thought it was just fine if she decided to back out. They could take it.

"Just let Shaun go and we can work this out!" Morgan insisted.

"That's his name, you know. He has a little brother, too," JJ called out. She had to scream to be heard. The tornado was closing in on them.

"We know you saw them when you attacked them," Spencer took his turn, "Let him go!"

Aitana was trudging around the RV as fast as possible but the wind was challenging her from all angles. Her hand slammed against the RV to keep her steady. She head to lower her head to avoid debris beginning to fly with the wind.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! She pushed against the wind, finally making a turn around the RV.

"Just go!" Travis exclaimed. "Get out of here, please!" The agents and detective could hear the franticness in Travis' tone, the urgency to complete his plan.

"Travis, Tucker would not want this!" Morgan insisted. "He would want to protect you like he did with Roscoe Gulch."

"That bastard was guilty!" Travis spat.

Aitana was coming up behind Travis, her body shaking both out of fear and cold and yet her hands were gripping her gun.

"Just let him go and we can help you," JJ said.

"We don't need your help!" Travis spat.

"Well if you don't, I'll have to shoot you!" Aitana called out, forcing Travis to look behind and see her.

"We need to get cover now!" The lead detective was telling the others. Thunder was turning stronger as the tornado grew only minutes away.

Aitana could feel the cold practically turn to ice on her back. Blinking steadily became hard as images came to her mind, images she tried her hardest not to remember.

"Travis, c'mon!" called Spencer, "You need to put the weapon down! The tornado's coming!"

Travis growled and shoved Shaun forwards. As soon as the teenager was free, JJ scrambled to pick him and bring him to their side. Meanwhile, Travis swung his ax at Aitana, forcing the brunette to fire. The bullet went straight to the ground but the force of her fire threw her back.

Travis didn't seem to care about anything else, not even the open shot he had at the agent. He picked up the plastic bag of body parts he'd collected and started straight for the tornado.

"Let's go! Let's go!" The lead detective yelled, now running for the nearest shelter which luckily had been unlocked.

Aitana had just sat up when someone grabbed her arm and yanked her off the ground. She fell into Spencer's arms, barely taking in a breath when Spencer was already pulling her towards the shelter. They were the last ones inside. The detective shut the doors right on time because the tornado was right on them. Wind howled and things crashed. All the group could do was wait it out, in the dark, and in the cold.

Aitana leaned back against the wall, her fingers digging in her hair. Images flashed in her mind again without permission.

Darkness. Howling. Agonizing wait.

Without realizing it, her breathing became the heaviest in the cellar. Everyone else did – she was going to start panicking for real.

Like before, Aitana startled at a foreign sensation. Someone's hand took hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. Aitana slowly glanced to her right and made out Spencer nodding encouragingly at her. She took in a series of shaky breaths, focusing on that and only that. But she did squeeze Spencer's hand like she was dying.

~ 0 ~

For the rest of the night, the team was remanded at the precinct. Even getting to their hotel was out of the question with the tornado. Still, things were more lighthearted now that their job was done for the time being. It was different…sort of.

When they returned, Aitana had sat herself down in the corner of the conference room and had not come out nor moved since then. She had taken to counting, both in English and Spanish – at least that's what Emily told the others when she walked past the room on one occasion. She was truly afraid, nobody would deny that.

"Hey."

Aitana stopped on 50 and looked up from the table.

Spencer stood there holding a coffee cup in his hand, motioning it to Aitana. "I found some tea," he told her with a small smile. "My choice would've been Chamomile because that's good for the nerves but I couldn't find that one."

"Thank you but I still can't eat," Aitana shook her head. "Or drink."

"Mm," Spencer started coming with a little sway that Aitana picked up on. "Not even if I had some…chocolate?" Because a moment later, he was taking out a small chocolate bar. "Dark chocolate helps reduce stress, anxiety, all that stuff…and it's actually really good. Most people don't really like the bitter taste but I think it's pretty good." He stood in front of Aitana's chair, holding out the two options in his hands.

"Now it really feels like Harry Potter," Aitana said with a little smile on her lips. "But I really can't stomach anything right now."

"It's your own brain telling you that. You should take just a small bite, or sip?"

Aitana figured she should stop being rude when Spencer had been a lot of help lately. One little bite wouldn't be so bad. "Thank you," she whispered as she took the chocolate bar.

"I'm sorry we're stuck here," Spencer said, watching Aitana take a bite of the chocolate. He really needed her to eat something. JJ had pointed out earlier that no one had seen Aitana eat since morning. They were halfway through the night now.

"It's not your fault. You're not in charge of the weather," Aitana said, cracking the bar in two. She held up the half she hadn't bitten from.

Spencer smiled and took it.

"I'm not a child, I promise," Aitana said, biting on her bottom lip. "I wasn't this afraid of tornadoes before…"

Spencer grabbed a seat beside Aitana and set his snacks on the table. He eyed Aitana, the profiler in him coming out whether or not he wanted it. "What tornado did this to you?" He asked.

Aitana drew in a breath. "I was still in WPP."

"Ah…"

"After I left San Diego, they stuck me in Kentucky," Aitana swallowed hard. "I lived there on my own in this house that was part of a rural town. I didn't make friends there, obviously after San Diego…"

"You didn't want to risk anyone else," Spencer understood. It was a sad logic.

"Yeah. There was a tornado warning and I had to take shelter by myself. I was underground for a whole night, on my own, in the dark…" She shook her head fervently the moment she felt tears stinging her eyes.

That made perfect sense to Spencer. It would feed a fear enough to cause this kind of fright. "And did that happen once?"

"N-o," Aitana choked the answer out. She had to lower her head. She was too embarrassed now.

It was dumb question to ask given Kentucky was known for its tornadoes but Spencer liked to think that maybe while Aitana lived there, she had only gone through that experience once. He was sad to see that it was not the case.

"I'm sorry about that, but you don't have to be ashamed of that," he told her. He lowered his head to try and catch Aitana's gaze.

"Spencer, I'm 27. I shouldn't be this afraid. This is stuff for my preschool-aged nephew."

"Age has nothing to do with fears," Spencer said, "It's actually pretty common. Take my fear for example."

"Germs?" Aitana managed a half smile. "Then I suppose I must be scaring living daylights out of you. You had to hold my hand for about an hour. Sorry."

Spencer laughed gently. He hadn't even thought about that. "I don't usually have the fear when it's about my friends."

"Still, you've helped me a lot today and I really appreciate it but I really should get over it."

"It doesn't work like that, unfortunately," Spencer shrugged. "We can manage it and sometimes with the right kind of therapy you can overcome it but it's not a big deal if you can't. If you can't, then you should at least let your friends help you out."

Aitana finally straightened up in her seat, raising her head up. "Thank you."

"Of course." Spencer broke his half of the chocolate bar and slid one piece back to Aitana. "You really need to eat."

"Alright." She picked up the smaller piece he had slid over to her and took another bite.

"So, why were you counting?" He asked afterwards.

"You know the whole 'count to 10 and the lightning will seem like it's going away' thing? Yeah, that's what I was going for. I just wanted to be extra sure so I counted in Spanish too."

Spencer chuckled. He liked her methods. "Right. Can I count with you?"

Aitana had taken another small bite of her chocolate. "You want to do that? It's boring."

"It's a mechanism for you to feel less afraid," Spencer shrugged, "I want to help. Can I?"

"I mean…of course, I just…I don't know, I figured you'd want to rest after this case," Aitana said, pulling one leg up on her chair. She rested one arm over her knee and proceeded to further break her chocolate up.

"I can read on the plane. Besides, maybe I can learn a little bit of Spanish with you?" Spencer's awkward smile made Aitana laugh. "It's the only language I can't really master."

"It's pretty easy," Aitana said in between chews. "The great thing about Spanish is that the way it's written is the way it's said unlike our dear English language."

"You can see why I get frustrated then," Spencer said, "So maybe we can kill two birds with the same stone. I will help you forget the tornado and you help me learn some Spanish."

"Okay," Aitana nodded, "Va."

"Va?"

Aitana grinned. "Your first Spanish lesson. It means 'alright'. Like, 'you want to go the store'? And you can say 'va'."

"Va…" Spencer repeated as slowly as possible, eyebrows knitting together as he learned the word.

Thunder crashed much too close for Aitana's liking.

"Va, let's start counting then," she said, taking in a deep breath. This time, however, she found it easier to focus than before. Every now and then, her counting would be interrupted with her own laugh. It was hilarious the way Spencer pronounced '13'. Trece.

She forgot all about tornadoes.

#ocapp #allaboutocs #ochub #criminal minds #Spencer Reid fics #Spencer Reid imagines #Spencer Reid x oc #criminal minds oc #cm fics #cm imagines #oc: aitana serrano #fic: against all odds #Spencer Reid fic #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x foc #cm fic #cm imagine #cm x oc

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resowrites · 2 years

Text

Hitch - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his girlfriend hit a bump in the road…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: angst, fluff, relationship difficulties/argument, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, brief allusion to smut, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1630

A/N: Hi folks, still not back in the writing groove but gave it a go and this was the result lol Sorry for deleting the last request, still having a crisis of confidence but I appreciate all interactions (especially as it helps me figure out blog direction). Not sure how often I’ll continue posting atm but feel free to send requests etc. - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Hitch - oneshot.

"I just want you to tell me why."

"Henry, do you not think if there was another reason, I’d just say so? Especially if it meant not having this conversation again?"

"So you honestly expect me to believe that you won’t get married simply because don't want to?"

"Yes! I said as much not long after we got together, why did you think I’d change my mind?"

"I dunno, I thought maybe you were trying to protect yourself. I know being with someone like me will never be straightforward, but why is marriage an impossibility given how long we've now been together? I've never done anything to make you doubt me or my love for you." She sighed and placed her hands on her hips, struggling to comprehend how watching some dreadful reality show about matchmaking had led to their current discussion.

"Henry, I really can’t have this conversation again. I've told you my reason why and won't keep repeating myself. Goodnight." Henry dashed between her and the living room door.

"Darling please, we need to talk about this. Surely you can appreciate why I’m confused? You won't attend premieres with me, you don’t often travel with me. I respect that you're your own person and want to be out of the spotlight at much as possible, but now I'm worried you don't feel the same way about me anymore."

"Henry, you already know that isn't true. For fuck's sake I take care of everything each and every day don't I? Your house, your personal affairs, even your dog! I live in the middle of nowhere for you, I get abused every day worldwide for you, and I can't even walk down the fucking street without the risk of being photographed - all for you! Why would I do any of that if I didn't love you? I've never wanted your money, connections, or anything else, and yet here you are questioning me!" But her anger only served to rile him up further.

"Well, I wonder why! You sound pretty resentful even though this is our house, our dog, our fucking life! For God’s sake I thought we were past this, what else can I do to prove that you're my priority?"

"I'm not resentful, that's my point! And we didn't choose this house or other aspects of our life together but I'm still here, still dedicated to you. What else do I have to do, to prove that?"

"So that would help? If we moved, chose a house together?" She clasped her forehead, exasperated.

"Ugh, no! I love this house because you chose it, just like I love you. Now let me go to bed." Henry blocked her path once again.

"No, please… I'm just trying to understand. You forget that I know you were engaged before, so is it that? You love me but you were in love with him?"

"Or the experience just confirmed marriage isn't for me. If I'd lost the person I loved most, why would I settle? I'm hardly the type, am I?" He searched her eyes.

"But if it's inconsequential to you why can't we do it? I just want you to be my wife, you know fine well I'll never hurt or leave you!"

"Except I don't! No one can. I don't want marriage because I don’t believe it's a vow anyone can honestly make. You might wake up tomorrow and decide you don't love me anymore, or next week you could meet someone who makes you realise you never did. I'm sorry but having to get divorced just adds insult to injury and I won't do it to myself. I refuse to."

"Oh, darling." Henry tried to move in for a hug but she swiftly raised her hand.

"Stop it. Whether you accept it or not, I continue to be here because I love you, and I'm sorry you think I haven't done enough to make that clear."

"And I'm sorry you think I don't love you as much as you love me." A look flashed briefly across her face.

"When did I say that?!"

"Throughout this entire conversation! So I was right all along, you think I'm just a selfish prick who wants to have his cake and eat it. First it was your father, then your ex, and now me. I'm just the latest in a long line of disappointments, aren't I? What do you want me to do? Give up acting? Will that be a big enough improvement for you?" There was no mistaking the look on her face anymore.

"How dare you. I've always respected what you do--"

“She said sarcastically.”

"Oh whatever, all this really comes down to is you not being able to control me any further than you already do." He stepped back a moment, turning around only halfway when he was ready to speak again.

"You don't really believe that?"

"Either way, I'm never getting married or having children. If that's too much for you then, I suppose... our relationship is already over." Her eyes were distraught and Henry rushed forwards, gripping the sides of her arms.

"No, no. Please, don't say that. I'm not losing you over something like this. Having children is different and besides, I don’t want to share you with anyone else," she felt her heart pinch. "I'm sorry, Okay? I'm just hurt, but I'll get over it. Yes, I'm old-fashioned, I find it hard that you don't let me spoil you, or that we have to take turns paying for holidays. You even have to pay for the upkeep of this place!”

"Yes, because you bought it despite us both living here, why can't I at least contribute?" He finally let her go, sighing as his head dropped down.

"I just want to care of you."

"And you do! Which I'm grateful for and is the reason I do whatever I can to take care of you as well. Marriage gives me the ick, alright? I'm just not lovey-dovey, sue me."

"Bollocks. You spend ages cuddling Kal, cooking for me… do you know you even cuddle up to me at night after you've fallen asleep? I try and stay awake just so--" his voice caught in his throat, "I don't miss it. We don't have to have a wedding, though you seemed to enjoy Mark's and Claire's...”

"I'd enjoy myself at funerals if they had open bars."

"Well, what if something happens to me? I need to make sure everything's taken care of."

"We can go to a solicitor for that." Henry rubbed his jaw.

"What if we make it just us? We don't have to invite anyone other than the witnesses." She pondered the suggestion for a moment.

"How about we have a civil union?" He scowled.

"What, where you don't have to change your title, surname, or even be called my wife?"

"Henry that's my last offer, take it or leave it. For fuck's sake why can't I just be your partner? That's all I've ever wanted to be..." She swallowed back her tears but practically fled the room. Henry just stood with his head in his hands. Neither of them slept well that night.

***

The next couple of days passed uneasily, not that she didn't try her best to make things better. She still didn't want to give in to Henry though, no matter how bad it felt not to. She thought she’d sacrificed enough for them to be together. If she said yes to this, then what would be next? It was as she was curled up on the sofa, letting such thoughts churn over and over in her mind, that he came and sat down beside her. After a couple of minutes, he gently took her hand. "Listen, I've thought about what you said and I think I finally understand. With that in mind, I'd like you to accept these as a promise that we'll belong to each other for as long as possible and as best we can.” He looked at her knowingly while pulling two velvet boxes from his pocket. “I got you the same promise ring as mine as I know you don't like anything sparkly, mine's just wider cos I've got big hands and need it to last. You don't have to be a Mrs or take my surname either, though I know you don’t like yours so I thought maybe you could anyway?" His hopeful eyes were met with the mischief in hers.

"But your surname’s awful as well!" He snorted.

"Fair enough, I know it's a nightmare changing everything by deed poll anyway. We can wear the rings on our right hands if you want, so... what do you think?"

"I'll accept it on one condition," she teased, though the tears in her eyes were plain to see.

"Which is?"

"You get down on one knee." Henry stared at her for a moment in disbelief but soon hurled himself to the floor, grinning as she presented her right hand. He took his time, making sure to slide the band on carefully. Once that was done she grabbed his and as gently as her patience would allow, twisted it over his finger. They beamed at each other before he leaped to his feet, pulling her with him so they could kiss and embrace. His heart felt like it was about to burst. "You know, if I'm not your wife then what will you call me?"

"How about 'wagon?'" She giggled and swatted him on the arm. "What about me?"

"Hmm, let's see... what else begins with 'w?'" He roared with laughter, planted another kiss on her mouth, and swept her up into his arms. She knew they were headed for the stairs before he even turned round.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff

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dude-why-3 · 5 months

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Happiest of birthdays, @annawayne ♡

Thank you for existing, and always being so kind. May you have the happiest birthday of them all 🎉

This one is for you, especially. I hope you enjoy it :))

Under the Willow Tree, part three of the Star-Crossed Lovers Series

The boy wipes the sweat off his forehead, swipes blond locks of hair out of his face, the torrid sun burning his skin. He slams the scythe into the ground, takes a deep breath in before continuing with his work. Ever since his grandfather has fallen sick, he’s had to do all the work on the mayor’s land– the wretched man didn’t care who did it as long as they got it done and didn’t ask for anything more than he’d offer. Which was barely enough for the two of them to get by, but more than nothing. Any help was good enough, and maybe, with some luck, he’d afford to buy his grandfather’s medicine this month. Maybe he’d even afford a bucket of milk, he thinks. Maybe if he does some extra work around the mayor’s property, he’d agree to pay him a little more– his folks have been working for the man for decades already, he could spare them that much.

A sudden rustle snaps him out of his thoughts. Armin stops in his tracks, scythe frozen in hand. He listens cautiously, glances around, scanning his surroundings– the land lying before him endlessly, the tool he’s abandoned by his side, next to his discarded shirt, the dark forest standing tall to his side, the village buzzing by the feet of the valley.

For a second thinks it’s an animal, but then the sound of shoes against dirt makes him reconsider. He gazes at his bare dirty feet as he continues his work, dreading whatever interaction might follow. He can only hope it’s just a passerby.

That thought disappears when he hears a quiet, whispery voice calling his name. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s the mayor’s daughter, her voice is enough of a giveaway. A glance towards her is all the confirmation he needs, the sight of her leather shoes enough to give her away. He presses his lips together and keeps his head low, acknowledging her with a nod but not raising his eyes. Getting in trouble for even daring to be in her immediate proximity is not something he's willing to do today, or any other day, so he keeps doing his work, raising the scythe and slamming it back onto the ground, dragging it towards him.

The girl doesn’t move an inch, her eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Suddenly, Armin is very aware of his scrawny figure, unprotected by the shirt he's abandoned by the side of the property when the sun got too unbearable. But he tries to ignore it, minding his work, trying to ignore her gaze. But his ignorance seems to only make her gaze more intense, for she doesn’t budge, nor does she move, not giving any sign of leaving anytime soon. Eventually, he sighs, straightens his back, and raises his eyes to her level.

"Is there anything I could do to help you?" he inquiries, a slight notch of annoyance in his voice.

The girl doesn’t immediately answer, giving him time to observe her, his eyes glossing over her appearance. Her shoes are too spotless, her long white dress too clean for her to be standing there, the sleeves richly embroidered with red flowers. The same pattern adorns her waist, then the skirt flows all the way to her ankles, the hem adorned by the same red flowers. Her hair looks freshly washed, whereas his has been getting greasier by the day.

The blonde girl says nothing, her lips pressed together, her hands hidden behind her back. Her icy eyes pierce through him and he finds himself holding her glare for a brave moment.

Seeing how she wouldn’t spare him one word, Armin drops his gaze with a sigh and goes back to his work. Only when he raises the scythe above his head for a third time does the mayor's daughter speak.

"There is something you could help me with."

He slams his utensile into the ground again and, with a tired sigh, drops onto the floor himself, his legs too tired to keep him up straight. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then crosses his legs and raises his eyes to meet hers again, intrigued to find her frowning at him as if he were intimidating her. Armin raises an eyebrow.

"What can I do for you, Annie?" he asks, his voice softer when he speaks.

The girl opens and closes her mouth as if the words won’t come out. Armin tilts his head at her, looking her up and down quizzically. As if her presence here wasn’t weird enough, her behaviour is truly strange. What could it possibly be that she, the daughter of the richest man in the region, would need from a mere peasant like himself? And why can’t she just say it?

She raises on her toes then falls back on her heels, and takes a deep breath in.

"I need you to teach me how to dance," she eventually mumbles, looking away.

It takes a few seconds for the words to register. Armin blinks once, twice, looking at her quizzically. Her complexion grows pinker under her eyes, her frown deepening. A tiny smile creeps onto Armin’s lips– she’s the flustered one now. Oh how the roles reversed.

"I saw you at that wedding last week," Annie says quietly. "You danced all the folk dances as if they were in your blood. I want you to teach me how to do that."

Armin frowns slightly, recalling the event. It wasn’t that big of a deal. His neighbor married one of his daughters off to some lord on the other side of the river, one of the mayor’s close friends. His friends’ and his childhood friend, someone their age. The most they could do was send her off nicely, make her wedding night memorable. So, Eren, Mikasa and himself danced with her all night, and started most if not all dances. Most people joined in on their joy. Some clapped along to the music. Some simply watched.

"What's in for me?" he asks, amusement creeping into his voice.

Annie’s lips twitch up, as if she just regained control of the situation. She finally takes her arms out from behind her back and reveals the book she’s been hiding, holding it so he can see the cover, but not close enough for him to touch. His eyes widen at the sight, betraying his excitement. He quickly scans the cover, thick and pristine, and simple enough– a light brown cover, with golden edges and black letters spelling out its title in the middle, too small for him to read from afar.

"You get to read this," Annie says slowly, "but only when you're with me. You cannot take it home, and you cannot tell another soul about it."

Armin presses his lips together, his eyes transfixed on the book, hungry to hold it in his own hands. He's wanted to put his hands on one for so long, it almost feels surreal to have a book this close to his face. He considers her preposition for a long minute before saying, "I cannot teach you now. I'm supposed to be working."

"Well, you're not," she retorts. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I should be."

"What about tonight then? Down to the river, after you're done with work," she suggests, as if she had all this planned.

Armin doesn’t hesitate when he agrees, earning a satisfied smile from the mayor’s daughter.

"Good luck with your work then," she says, turning around. "Don’t take too long."

And for the first time in a long time, Armin has something to look forward to.

#the star crossed lovers au #aruani #aruani fic #i know i said march and it is obviously not march. but it is here it is done it is all for you #thank you for existing really you're such a lovely lovely person

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sherlocks-blanket · 2 years

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Seeing your ghost

Sherlock Holmes x reader

A/N: First of all! A big thanks towards @classickook who pretty much beta read it! Also relationship is pretty much for interpretation if it's romantic or platonic.

Words: 1,8k

Warnings: Heavy angst, major character death,drug abuse,overdose, open ending

You groggily opened your eyes and were met with only darkness. You tried to adjust your eyes to see in the pitch black, but saw nothing. First you thought that you were in the trunk of a car, but the cold fresh air from London caused a shiver to run through your body.

So your conclusion was that you were somewhere outside.

You remembered that two men knocked you out and put you in a black car. You knew that Mycroft was someone who would send a black car if he ever tried to talk to you to get through to his brother, Sherlock. He knew you were someone who Sherlock would listen to… well, sometimes, at least.

But this…

This wasn’t Mycroft’s doing. It was someone else…

‘Sherlock,’ you thought. Maybe you could…

No. You couldn’t go for your phone because, of course, those bastards had to bind your wrists with rope.

“Great,” you sighed, trying to scan your surroundings with your now dark-adjusted eyes. You couldn’t really sit up or turn with how crowded the space was.

It was different kinds of materials that you were surrounded by, from wood pieces to hay to old furniture parts. Everything was good for burning…

As if your last thoughts could be heart, it became true when you felt an aura of heat start to warm up your shivering form, followed by a wave of smoke coming through.

You started to cough as you breathed in the deadly gas.

As the rush of adrenaline pumped through your veins, hearing your heart beating through you ears, you tried to wriggle yourself out of the ropes when the panic settled into your system.

You cried out for anyone to help, hoping someone would hear you and save you before the fire could lay its hands on you, or worse, before the smoke could knock you unconscious.

***

“Move! MOVE!” Sherlock yelled, pushing people aside to get through the crowd that was surrounding a bonfire and reach his target.

The target was a burning spot where you were buried underneath.

Sherlock had received a mysterious text message on his phone with words that didn’t have any meaning. If anyone else had seen it, they would’ve ignored it, thinking it was some king of random spam; but with Sherlock… being the famous detective that he was saw the hint in it.

-Save Y/N

Sherlock shouted your name, hoping you would respond as he pushed the burning objects away from the pile.

The crowd was frozen in their spots and only watched in horror when Sherlock dragged your body from the fire.

“I’m a doctor! Let me through!” John called inside the mob of people, which still stood petrified towards the scene in front of them. After he got through, he rushed directly to his friend’s side and knelt down to examine you.

“Sherlock…”

The detective felt some unease as he faced John when his name was mentioned. Sherlock saw the grim expression on the doctor’s face only to get the dreadful answer he was afraid of hearing. He saw the confirmation in John who just shook his head and glanced to the ground.

Not believing any of it, he took your wrist to only come to the same conclusion.

That you were dead…

***

Blue lights illuminated the area when the police arrived along with an ambulance that didn’t matter anymore since you had passed away.

The place was full of police officers interrogating the witnesses along with paramedics who checked on everyone. One of them dropped a blanket over Sherlock’s shoulders, but no complaints came from him. The detective just sat, his face expressionless. Most people would just see an emotionless machine from the outside, but on the inside was a black void consuming him. He just couldn’t comprehend that he just lost someone from the few people who were very dear to him.

His blue eyes caught a person who transferred the black body bag with your body inside to a car and then closing the doors shut. Moments later, the vehicle took off and drove away from his sight, and now you were truly ripped away from him…

***

Days passed like seconds after your passing, and Sherlock did everything to distract himself. He took every case, even some he deemed unworthy of his attention, only to solve the in a matter of seconds. The detective overworked himself just to calm his racing mind, but in the end, even his body needed some rest and John would oftentimes find him passed out in front of his laptop with his face on the keyboard. John would then wake him up, telling him that he should go to bed, but Sherlock declined and continued to work until the cycle would repeat…

It worsened further after the funeral. He wouldn’t leave his room some days, skipped meals more often, and then the unbelievable: he stopped taking any cases.

John, Mrs. Hudson, and everyone else were clueless as to how they could help the grieving detective.

The door of the flat opened as the veteran entered the living area to find his friend sitting on his armchair, two fingers on his temple and eyes fixed on the fireplace in front of him. The warm colors of the flames lit up his face in a beautiful orange glow, but also showed what miserable shape the detective was in: prominent dark circles formed under his eyes from lack of sleep, his cheekbones were more noticeable, and a stubble grazed his chin.

John noticed a tray with some food Mrs. Hudson had most likely brought up, along with some tea, but everything was neglected and cold by now.

“Leave…” Sherlock muttered without looking up.

“Look, I… I know Y/N’s passing is hard for you, but do you not want to find the person who was responsible for this?”

Their eyes met the moment John mentioned your name, and thinking that Sherlock had given up on finding your killer struck a sensitive nerve in the detective, which the army doctor never thought Sherlock would have done.

“You really think I didn’t try to find the murderer?”

Offended by the statement, Sherlock stood up from his position and walked passed John in haste with him following with quick steps. “Don’t’ you dare to—”

John held his breath as he stormed into Sherlock’s bedroom to find his wall full of notes lined with different colored strings on a map. It explained why he hadn’t left his room some days or why he didn’t take any more cases; he tried hard to solve this personal case just to find out who killed you.

“It was a test, but the outcome…”

“So you mean that it was an accident?” John interrupted, his eyebrows quirked up in confusion.

Sherlock shook his head, pointing at a note on the wall. “Why would someone give me a hint and a location inside a dubious text message, which I needed to decipher? Do you not see it? They wanted me to find Y/N! But…”

“But you think the outcome should’ve been with Y/N being alive… so technically, it was an ‘accident’,” the doctor finished the sentence, the last word ending in a different tone than the rest. John slowly started to understand what Sherlock had tried to imply.

“They tried to draw a reaction from me, but the purpose for what is still left unknown…” the detective voiced his thoughts in a whisper. His eyes scanned over every note he had pinned on the wall but couldn’t find the answer he was looking for. Another rare occurrence that the famous detective Sherlock Holmes was stuck on this case. It frustrated him that the murderer was still out there living their life while yours had been ripped away from you. But for what gain?

Just as John opened his mouth to voice out his current thought on the matter, Sherlock pushed him out and sealed himself inside his bedroom as he did over the past several days. A sigh left the veteran’s lips as he stood locked out from his friend again.

“Just so you know… if you need help or anything, I’m here for you.”

Sherlock heard John step away from the door as the silence filled his space again.

***

No one thought that he would reach this point again—not even Sherlock—as the needle stuck in his skin, injecting himself with any drug he could dig out from a hiding spot inside his bedroom, hidden away from curious gazes.

He needed it for altering his brain to increase his thought process and to numb his emotions that people called pain, but he never thought he would get the outcome of a shadow seen out of the corner of his eyes.

No one should be able to get in except…

The detective faced the window, which was closed along with the curtains that lit up the dim room. When his eyes went to the corner where he saw the shadow before, he was met with your eyes.

“Y/N?” he breathed out, his gaze open wide in shock. “No… it can’t be.”

You smiled at him, not saying anything as you slowly strutted toward him, trying to reach out for his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re dead. You’re dead!” he repeatedly murmured, opening his eyes again to see that you were gone. He scanned his surroundings to see if you were hiding, but no… you weren’t there anymore.

The detective dropped down to his bed, burying his face in his hands.

What just happened? Had his mind tried to comfort him or hurt him more? Was that what people called a breaking point, or was he going insane?

But, in the end, he was human like everyone else, and your death was proof of that as tear after tear streamed down his face.

Solving the case was stored in the back of his mind, his hands shaking as he reached for the syringe again. If he needed the drugs to see you, then so be it. He increased the dosage, hoping it would last longer. A sigh of relief left his lips as the needle pierced his skin.

Now he only needed to wait…

***

Mrs. Hudson was the first to noticed that the detective talked to himself. She dismissed it at first as rambling about something, even thinking that he babbled about an old case, which she wished for instead. But as it happened more often, it sounded like he was talking to someone, and the moment your name was said, the landlady started to worry, thinking the worst. She then called for John to investigate, the two of them hoping he didn’t relapse…

John broke down the bedroom door to find Sherlock lying on his bed surrounded by empty syringes. A gasp was heard from Mrs. Hudson at the state the detective was in from her position beside John.

“Sherlock!” the doctor called and rushed to his friend’s side to check on him.

His face was pale as a sheet, his gaze focused on a random spot, but his lips were surprisingly pulled into a smile like he saw something pleasant, unlike the two of them standing there.

Sherlock saw your ghost grasping his hand.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes angst #sherlock angst #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes fanfiction

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