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elspeth-tirel · 6 months

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New Phyrexia As A Cult

Content Warnings: Heavy discussion of cults and cult recruitment, mentions of sexual coercion, abuse, gore in images (New Phyrexian art so if you’re good with that should be all clear)

I’ve seen many people talking about New Phyrexia with the release of Phyrexia: All Will Be One and March of the Machine. And I’ve seen people talk about the misconceptions of New Phyrexia, like assuming it’s a hivemind. Which leads me into the key point I wanted to discuss with this. New Phyrexia isn’t a hivemind, but there’s a reason it’s assumed to be one by most casual fans. I believe it’s most accurately conveyed as a cult, and that analysing and interpreting the specific ways it is like one has a lot of merit for how it is viewed. I’m also aware that most of what I’m saying isn’t new. Am I the first person to say New Phyrexia is a cult? No. But most of the time, I’ve seen people simply use it as a pejorative term to add on to the list of problematic buzzwords to attach when criticising New Phyrexia or the Praetors. And regardless of whether I agree with those people, I do feel it warrants much deeper exploration into why New Phyrexia is a cult.

I know this post likely will stir up a lot of people saying some not positive things about me and it but I felt it needed to be said. To those people who have a knee jerk reaction towards this and are going to immediately want to send me something criticising this, I don’t anticipate you’ll read all of this. But at the end of the document I did include a list of questions I anticipate a few readers will ask, and I would simply like to politely ask that you read that segment before sending anything to me or replying to this post.

To start talking about cults and the nature of New Phyrexia as one, it’s first necessary to answer a few important background questions. Many people are going to ask if I have personal experience with a cult. To that, yes I have, I was raised in one from birth until around age 17. I would not like to discuss this further, I am simply including this so people know when I speak here I know what I am talking about. Another important thing is the definition of a cult. What differentiates a cult from any other religion? Many people disagree on the exact definition, and every now and again you’ll get someone claiming that all religions are cults. But simplifying it that much loses track of the real harm cults do to a person. I feel a key aspect for what a cult is is Dr. Steve Hassan’s BITE model. BITE stands for Behaviour control, Information control, Thought control, and Emotion control. The key difference between a religion and a cult is one of control. Cults invade every sense of your being, they seek to make it so you don’t have a life outside the cult and what is necessary to maintain it. This is why it’s so difficult for people to leave them. There’s a sense of fear of the unknown. That if you leave there’ll be nothing out there for you. Who knows, maybe they made you do terrible things you can never undo, how will the people who weren’t there forgive you? You can accept the bad parts, because the good parts are there and there’s this giant fear of what will happen if you face the unknown, if you leave. Which brings me to my first major discussion point: Ixhel.

For the unaware, Ixhel is the protagonist of the Phyrexia: All Will Be One side story A Hollow Body, by Aysha U. Farah. It’s a fantastic read, I would highly recommend anyone who finds this essay at all interesting read it. For a brief summary, Ixhel was created by Atraxa- who was herself formerly a Mirrordin angel before every Praetor save Urabrask compleated her- to be used as a soldier/assassin. She feels devoted to Atraxa, but tries to suppress her other feelings- the feeling of love, of want of affection and approval. Throughout the story, she faces challenges to this suppression: a phyrexian named Belaxis who aids her in her mission, the Thane of Contracts himself, Geth, who challenges her on her devotion even as she kills him, and Atraxa herself in the end. She successfully completes her mission to slay Geth, but his words bother her. About her being a faceless drone, replaceable. So she takes Belaxis and Geth, and uses the Dominus of the Dross Pits to combine them into one being, now named Vishgraz.

Atraxa is furious at the idea of their creation. But it’s not necessarily their creation itself that she really has an issue with. It’s that the creation was made without being ordered to. Vishgraz represents a threat to her not in their existence but in showing that Ixhel took an action other than what was ordered, even if she did it in hopes of imitating her superior in the cult. Because if she can take one action away from orders, she can take more. And that is a threat to her loyalty, which must be punished to ensure she stays in line, to ensure she stays another faceless drone. And Ixhel does take another action aside from orders, an even more direct disobedience: she spares Vishgraz’s life when ordered to kill them.

Ixhel represents someone born into a cult. She only ever did what was ordered, because it was all she knew. But cults are not a natural state of mind, they’re a method of control that can be broken free from. And this shows with Ixhel. She obeyed mindlessly, until she was given another option, an idea of what could help her, what could make her fix those feelings she had been taught to ignore and repress. This is a common experience, it’s certainly one I went through. It’s not the only experience with cults though. Because another thing to mention is recruitment, and Phyrexia: All Will Be One provides a great example of this too.

Another aspect of the storyline for this set was the idea of compleated planeswalkers. This is a new thing for Magic, with the idea introduced in Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty, with Tamiyo. However this was most fully analysed during Phyrexia: All Will Be One’s main story, by Seanan McGuire (who also did a fantastic job with that story, I would highly recommend that one as well). But something I recently came to the realisation of, that I have not seen discussed, is the common factor between every single compleated planeswalker: they’re all the exact types of people who are most vulnerable to recruitment by cults.

If you’re reading this and thinking “most vulnerable” I want you to keep in mind I mean exactly that. Anyone is vulnerable to recruitment by a cult, especially if you think you’re too smart to be recruited. And that’s where our first victim I’ll discuss comes in, Jace Beleren. Jace is a man who prides himself on his intelligence, on his skill with his mind. But in the story, he falls prey to New Phyrexia because he underestimates them, and overestimates his own skills. The love of his life, Vraska, has clearly fallen to compleation. But he thinks he can be smarter; he can use his illusion and mind magic to give her one last day, one last day together with him, where they can pretend like she hasn’t been infected. And that is what makes him be taken in by the cult.

Jace fell for it because he wanted to be clever and thought he was too smart, but also out of love and devotion to someone else who fell. I believe even if he knew what would happen he would do it again out of devotion. And who knows, the story so far seems to imply he had a plan, that he knew what he was doing. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong and he’ll turn out on top of this situation. But even so, he still lost to New Phyrexia due to this.

Next off is Vraska, another key type to fall for cults. Vraska throughout her entire life has been abused by society, a victim of racism and police brutality. All of those are horrific acts done against her. And cults reach out to those people, they tell them they have the answer, that if they simply follow them they will find the ability to help other downtrodden like themselves, or find a sense of community with others who will not judge them, so long as they follow the rules. Lukka is also very similar to this, but slightly different. Lukka is an outcast, rejected by his entire society, like a very extreme example of ostracisation and bullying. Humans are naturally social creatures, and this can easily be turned against us with a want for acceptance leading us to take abuse we should not tolerate. New Phyrexia also promises him strength, the strength with which he can avoid being hurt again, which he can use to carve a new place in this world and hurt everyone who hurt him, but much much worse.

Nahiri also falls under a similar umbrella with Lukka, but slightly less self motivated. Nahiri has a burning desire for revenge, for power against the figure in her life who let her down, Sorin Markov. But also, she believes in her heart of hearts that she is a protector, that everything she’s doing is to protect her homeland and her people, the Kor. And what leads her to being compleated is this sense of protection. She sacrifices her own health and her chance at a cure because she wants to ensure the success of the mission of stopping New Phyrexia. And her self sacrifice to do this may have helped the mission succeed, but it doomed her to fall.

Nissa is very similar to her here actually, as she also fell due to helping someone. She trusted Lukka, and tried to help him to the end, and this led her right into New Phyrexia’s trap. Others who fell this way too include Ajani and Tamiyo. They all trusted someone or sought to protect someone, and that trust was used against them. This shows the type of people who fall for cults because they are selfless. Those who fall because they don’t see a value in their own worth as an individual, but do see it as a collective. This is one of the major flaws of white mana: it’s bad at putting yourself first. It’s so easy to simply fall in line with a cult when you’re used to falling in line and obeying to help the greater good, because with the right words it’s easy to convince anyone that anything is the greater good. It feels safe to take some sacrifice, because after all, we’re taught to admire martyrs. We’re taught to emulate, and share. And those are good instincts don’t get me wrong, one of the most beautiful things about humanity is our capacity for love for our fellow man, the ability for strangers to care for strangers so readily just because they need help. But cults take advantage of that, and New Phyrexia is no different.

This is also touched on in the story Cinders, by Cassandra Khaw. This story is unique because it showcases an aspect of New Phyrexia we haven’t touched on here, the Quiet Furnace. While most aspects of New Phyrexia are definitely considered bad, the Quiet Furnace is the one I’ve seen the most arguments for about it being ethical and good. And while it has the most potential for good with this freedom, it also shows more of how cults prey on the most vulnerable. In the story, a Mirran woman, Reyana, is tempted towards compleation by Slobad. Reyana lost everything. She’s fighting a war she never asked to fight, constantly on the run, constantly in fear for her life. And they show her her mother. At peace with the cult, happy, caring. A lot of people join cults simply to follow loved ones. And this is the exact way Reyana joined. A key thing to showcase that this was not genuine freedom, that despite this promise of peace this was a corruption of herself, is the consequences after. Does Slobad and his group allow the Mirrans to freely mingle with the compleat, to simply talk among them knowing they chose differently? No. While he claims this is a free choice, he also artificially holds back interaction between the cultists and their Mirran family, all interaction unless it is for the purpose of recruitment. This shows the real reason for all of this. It’s a show, a show that things can be good, a promise that life will be better if you join and obey, because those you care about made that choice too. If they really believed in this freedom of choice, the Quiet Furnace would not shun contact with Mirrans, simply tolerating their presence without compleating them, it would embrace contact with them, embrace the diversity of perspective those who did not choose the same as the compleat bring to the table. There are good people among the phyrexians, people who believe what they are doing is right and towards peace, towards helping everyone come to a common understanding. Most criticisms of New Phyrexia I’ve seen make the mistake of calling them all monsters, not thinking for a moment that they aren’t monsters, but people, people who made a bad choice for good reasons. But those people don’t realise that they themselves are a victim, a lure in a trap to make others take a choice they never would’ve made otherwise, with the threat of losing contact with their loved ones if they don’t make that leap.

Another point to consider is what cults offer you, and what New Phyrexia offers you. People join cults because they promise something they lack. Most often that is a sense of community, of welcoming, of becoming, and of love. The price to pay is simply your individuality. When you think about New Phyrexia, that fits perfectly in theme. The oil takes away your worries, it makes you unconcerned with what troubled you prior to your compleation. It doesn’t feel like something wrong, something infecting you, it feels like…. completion. Like something you’ve always been missing has been found. And that’s alluring. That’s genuinely a tempting proposition. Think to yourself, what price would you be willing to pay to not have to think for yourself anymore, to be able to feel safe and just live day to day. That’s the promise of cults. And that’s the promise of New Phyrexia. But it’s not a healthy promise. Following charismatic leaders blindly simply leads to suffering, whether it’s for you or those outside the cult, or others inside of it. This is even shown in the text, in the story for March of the Machine by K. Arsenault Rivera.

When Elspeth faces off against Elesh Norn, she has been changed. She gave up her life in a moment of turmoil, sacrificed her being to save the multiverse. And she was ascended because of it, having her sense of self altered and her physical form transmuted, when her only choice otherwise was death. Sound familiar? So when Elspeth threatens Norn's rule of power, what does Norn promise her? Friends among the phyrexians, lovers among them. She points out their similarities, how Elspeth is transformed as well, simply in a way deemed prettier by society, how her form is irrevocably altered, how she has a creed she is following just as much as Norn. And Elspeth does think of this offer, she does look around and think of how happy everyone looks, how content they seem to be to be cogs in a great machine forged with glorious purpose. But Elesh Norn doesn’t even think to talk about the consent of those people in the cult for whether they’d even want to be Elspeth’s friend or lover. Many cult members do end up coerced into relationships they do not want, and this is a showing that Norn is no different from any base cult leader. She knows that people deserve freedom of choice, and freedom of thought. The moment Elspeth realises Norn is wrong, the moment she realises she is nothing like Norn, despite the similarities between her religion and Norn’s cult, is seeing how Norn treats Jin-Gitaxias. Jin raises a simple objection, a logical one, that Norn is spending time discussing and talking while their soldiers, their people, are dying. And Norn tells him to be silent. Chief among all things, cults silence dissent against the leader. One could say that’s the cardinal sin in a cult. And that is what makes Elspeth realise she could never be like Norn. And hopefully, eventually, it is what will help Elspeth keep in touch with her humanity after her transformation. Because no matter what, the key lesson is, even the strongest of us is still vulnerable to temptation, to the urge to lose ourselves in obedience of another. And it's more important now than ever to remember to fight that urge.

Anticipated Questions (FAQ I Suppose But Ahead Of Time)

But I don’t see New Phyrexia this way, I think it’s (Insert X Narrative): That’s your view. You’re entirely entitled to it. This wouldn’t be very much of a good essay talking about cults and the importance of the freedom of choice if I insisted everyone else follow my point of view and agree entirely with everything I’ve said.

Are you saying I’m wrong for liking New Phyrexia?: Not at all. Again with the point before, this is my interpretation I am posting for literary merit in hopes it may interest others and perhaps aid their understanding of New Phyrexia. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking villains. It’s simply an understanding I came to through a lot of thinking about New Phyrexia I felt others may enjoy. The last thing I want is to start some sort of flame war over this. In fact if you use this essay to start such a flame war and try and make others conform to your beliefs, you have missed the point entirely.

Tell me about your personal experience with cults: Respectfully no. I will talk about that to people I am comfortable talking about it with. People who friend me on Discord may ask me, I may answer but I will not mind them asking. Otherwise I prefer not to share.

If you don’t want people to change their views, why did you post this essay?: I was thinking about my personal experience with cults and I thought others may want to see them and it may interest others, and it helped me type out my own personal feelings.

Isn’t it meritorious to discuss how New Phyrexia also has Christofascist elements with the Machine Orthodoxy and the specifics of the religion and how Norn demands they conquer?: For this specific essay, I actually believe no. A key thing a lot of people don’t think about is not all cults are the same belief systems. They don’t all approach with end of the world rhetoric, or some crazy theory, or hatred of others. Sometimes they’re a group preaching love and acceptance and tolerance, and claiming that you will feel much better with the cult. Sometimes they’re groups trying to take in the underserved of society and use their righteous indignation to serve their own ends. It doesn’t matter that New Phyrexia is Christofascist for why it is a cult, for all we care it could be about refusing violence entirely and spreading tolerance and goodwill to non phyrexians and preaching for coexistence. The key common factor is a manipulation of the members and control of their lives.

Despite all this I’m going to send you an ask or DM saying you’re horrible for this post in some moralistic way: Ok.

#magic the gathering #new phyrexia #MTG essay #Phyrexia: all will be one #march of the machine

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sylvies-chen · 10 months

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I love the ballad of songbirds and snakes, don’t get me wrong. but the streets are comparing coriolanus snow to anakin skywalker and I just… somebody get me a gun! I need to buy a gun!

and listen, I totally get the idea behind it. they’re both young formerly promising men who spiralled downwards into violence and authoritarianism and, as a result, betrayed their best friends and the women they care for. on a basic level, they have some similarities. but again, it’s like… the most BASIC and SURFACE LEVEL comparison to make!

snow is not a fallen angel or tragic doomed hero. the entire point of the book + film was that he was always prone to thinking manipulatively, to being selfish, to being violent, to liking the system too much, to letting not just anger but genuine hatred inform his decisions. HE IS THE VILLAIN. and vader is a villain too— the most iconic villain of all time— but anakin is a whole other story, and coriolanus doesn’t hold a candle to anakin when you compare some deeper elements of their motivations.

first off, you only need to look at how they treat their ladies to understand what I’m saying. everyone loves the heartbreak of anakin and padme just as they love the heartbreak of lucy and snow, but that love for their tragic story seems to blind people to the absolute insanity that is snow’s thoughts about lucy. he lies to her, thinks she’s trying to kill him, her song doesn’t satisfy or please him, and in the books he even goes so far as to say she isn’t even that good looking??? anakin, on the other hand, delivers a minute-long monologue about how deeply in love he is with padme, how a single kiss from her haunts him, how he is willing to utterly devote himself to her and fulfil her every demand because there’s nothing else he can do. he expresses his love in a very immature way at times, but it is real and genuine. tbosas makes you question at times whether coriolanus really loves lucy, or whether just this idea of “taming” her seems appealing.

even their downward spirals are vastly different in nature. coriolanus snow becomes more paranoid in an attempt to maintain his image, in order to keep lucy under his spell. his ambitions are nuanced, not black and white by any means, but they are selfish. anakin’s spiral, though there’s no denying the horrific acts he commits, begins from a place of fear and love. he is so genuinely scared of losing his wife and his unborn children that he becomes susceptible to an outside force manipulating him towards the dark side. anakin also fulfils that element of the shakesperian tragic hero in that there’s this idea of potential that we see so present in him. he’s introduced as the one who would bring balance to the force, someone powerful beyond comprehension, a saviour of sorts. snow was never shown to have that level of promise. he was just a man who existed in a system and it is about him grappling with that system until eventually that disgusting fascist mindset takes over.

and lastly, of course, you can’t ever mention these two in tandem without remembering the fact that anakin did the right thing in the end! and coriolanus did not! luke fought to bring anakin back when vader had taken over for so many years, and in the end it paid off. anakin does the truly selfless thing in sacrificing himself to save luke. he lets love inform his decisions, as he once did before, only the fear is gone and so that love orients him towards good instead of darkness. anakin is a fallen angel, but he’s also a man who loved too much and didn’t know what to do with it. snow, comparatively, admits he isn’t above killing children and then laughs in the face of the masses he’s worked to oppress for over half a century right before his death.

anakin skywalker’s story is of the destruction and reconstruction of his good heart, of light, of balance, of love. it is cyclical, and it is tragic. coriolanus snow’s story is not. it is a story not of something sinister growing in an otherwise good heart, but a story of something sinister unravelling and revealing itself.

they are not the same.

#anakin skywalker #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #star wars #star wars prequels #lucy gray baird #anidala #anti coriolanus snow #anti snowbaird

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joys-of-everyday · 3 months

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Unrefined thoughts on how MXTX creates complexity in her characters:

Mirror Mirror

Bingge and Bingmei are mirror images of one another, both from the same starting points, but who go onto have vastly different walks of life. While these are complex characters in their own right, the point here is less about the complexity of each of them individually, but how they demonstrate that our environment can influence who we are. It is, in fact, pretty rare to walk into your own clone from a parallel universe (and these are the only two MXTX characters who are true mirrors in this way), but the Bing-twins existence leads naturally to the question: had circumstances been different, would the other characters have turned out differently?

The Reformed, the Fallen

People change. A brave and righteous crown prince can become a drunk vagabond who beats people for criticising their martial skills, and can change again to a humble scrap collector who helps those in need. Another crown prince who gives their all to save their people can become twisted by hatred and despair. Life takes many turns, at unexpected places. Can you judge an entirety of a person by where they are now, when it is hard to say where they have been, or where they are yet to go?

Circumstance

Something that strikes me about TGCF is how it acknowledges how arbitrary human behaviour sometimes is. The farmer who tripped over Xie Lian as he lay in the street was wet and tired, so cussed him. But once he cooled down, he came back and apologised, forever changing Xie Lian’s life. We are subject to making pretty irrational choices when we are angry for whatever reason (or just hungry), and sometimes cruel actions are not from a cruel person. Equally, sometimes a kind action is not from a kind person. Qi Rong didn’t need to save Guzi, and I suspect Jin Guangyao’s acts of kindness were not all self-motivated. Actions don’t always fit into a narrative of a good person and a bad person, because we contain both good elements and bad elements, and we act in different ways in different situations.

Perspective

People are seen by different people in different ways. Wei Wuxian is an extreme example – a hero to many, a villain to many more. I don’t think the way you are seen should at all dictate whether you are good or bad. Many of those who criticised Wei Wuxian did not have the full perspective, or were just plain wrong, and he was unfairly vilified. Actually, this isn’t really about Wei Wuxian’s complexity as a character at all – what I want to highlight here, is that when we see other people as a villain or a hero, we may not have the full picture. There are many characters who appear who we get maybe a few paragraphs of backstory, and we make judgements about them. Do we really understand their circumstances? Is the narrator even reliable? (Shen Jiu, excluding the extras, comes to mind)

#mxtx #mxtx analysis #svsss #mdzs #tgcf #rambling

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cardboardheartss · 3 days

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NEWJEANS Overall Reading

⚠️DISCLAIMER! TAROT CARDS ARE NOT 100% ACCURATE! TAKE EVERYTHING WITH A GRAIN OF SALT! IF MY INTERPRETATIONS ARE INCORRECT FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME!⚠️

*NWJNS current thoughts*

Minji : 7oC rx

In all honesty, from my cards, it seems as if Minji still wants to continue fighting. She is aware of the consequences that she’ll be facing but she honestly wants to fight. It seems like she will continue to demand change within the company, she only demands change for the sake of maintaining NWJNS creativity and image.

Hyein : 2oC rx

Hyein is completely tired. She wants to end her contract with HYBE, she is aware of the issues that HYBE and Fraudor will put her through and for her own sanity, she really wants to leave.

Haerin : 3oW rx, 9oP rx, The World

Haerin honestly wants a break! She is tired, and is literally on the brink of losing her mind atp. Haerin is also aware that HYBE will sabotage the girls careers on purpose, and she honestly does not want that for herself. She just wants to possibly go on a world tour and continue her career as NWJNS before April.

Hanni : AoW, 3oC rx

Poor Pham Pham, this situation has really made her question herself A LOT! She probably sits in her room and asks herself, “Why am I here?” “Why did I choose the fame life?” “Should I even continue being in NWJNS at this point?” Many thoughts surrounding her current situation as a member of NWJNS.

Danielle : Judgement rx, The Sun rx, 6oS, KoC rx, KNoP

The hate comments are hitting Dan Dan really hard, she has had the most difficult time. Since I watch NWJNS content, I can tell that she is honestly outraged and depressed too. Her whole vibe and personality has just become so closed off, it’s actually quite sad to witness. She really hates BSH too, many many negative thoughts about that man. Just views him as a money hungry coward tbh.

*thoughts on Jungkook’s support post*

Minji : QoC rx, WoF, KoS rx

“Oh no.”😤 She knew what was coming, the fans. She just knew that it will bring them more bad luck, because of the hate comments they’ll be receiving (which is happening as I type this). She’s thankful for the post, in a way but she knew that the fans will downplay this post and cause a ruckus.

Hyein : 3oC rx

She was worried about his fans turning against him. She is also worried about how the higher ups will react towards Jungkook after the post had been made.

Haerin : 5oW rx

She’s so glad someone with so much power finally stood up for her group. In the back of her mind, she’s probably thinking about how other groups could be envious about this moment that took place. Overall, she’s honestly really really grateful to have Jungkook on their side because she really thinks the group needed that one person to just shake things up a bit.

Hanni : 6oC

*do y’all know the “that’s a real black king right there🤪” sound from TikTok?*

Hanni in all honesty said, “that’s a real sunbaenim right there.🙂‍↕️” Wouldn’t be surprised if Hanni actually cried a bit after seeing that post and statement. She is soooo grateful, she honestly is so relieved to actually see someone with so much power and influence in the industry stand up for her group. She honestly is so grateful! My gut tells me that she probably saved that post as her Lock Screen or just looks at it every night for motivation.

Danielle : 8oW rx, Devil rx, The Empress

Initially, I don’t even think Dani was aware of the post. Poor Dani probably has her phone off or has deleted her social media for the sake of her peace. After she was aware of the post, she was quite taken aback because she doesn’t believe how Jungkook, actually had the guts to stand for NWJNS while being aware of the situation her group has with HYBE. She really respects him and applauds him for what he did.

*overall HYBE groups thoughts on this situation*

5oC rx, 2oP

Seems like these groups really be avoiding each other like a PLAGUE! These groups are completely and totally aware of the support NWJNS has, and I could say it kinda rubs them off the wrong way because they’re going through similar situations but they’re not getting the support from the rest of the industry and majority of the population of Korea (before y’all come for me, yes, support from this population matters the most, I’m sorry… I don’t make the rules!) It seems like they’ll try avoid thinking of this, and focus on support they receive from their own fandoms and promotions.

*will NWJNS stay in HYBE?*

5oP

No, the girls will eventually be leaving HYBE for good. In all honesty once again, these girls will have to leave this company for the sake of their own peace. They’re going to have many financial difficulties as they depart from this company but they’re going to have to either way.

*outcome of HYBE, once NWJNS leave*

AoP rx, The Lovers, 4oP, 10oS

lol. they’re going to be broker than ever! they will attempt to reconcile with their stock brokers or brands, to jump start their stock market value again, but it seems like all these businesses will stay clear from them to protect their own money because they’re aware, they’ll not be benefiting themselves with working with HYBE. HYBE will have to work really hard for positive public support again but it’s going to take a while.

*publics perception of NWJNS departure from HYBE*

6oW rx, Justice rx, Strength

the public will be divided ; Token/HYBE stans & Bunnies/K-Industry/Public & Rest of the public. The first group of people will be dissatisfied and angered by NWJNS leaving and claim that they’re ungrateful and stupid. The rest of the public will feel remorseful and encourage NEWJEANS to not give up but at the same time, should take a break!

OR!

the public will hate HYBE even more, and question their motives as a company overall. many people will not support HYBE any longer and believe they need their names tarnished as much as well. Would not be surprised if HYBE releases a media play article that day, in a celebratory manner about NWJNS departure but the public will remind them that they (HYBE) has not won in this situation, and will in fact be weak in terms of revenue.

*NWJNS careers once they depart from HYBE*

everybody say this with me : “NEWJEANS NEVER DIE!”📢

Pregnancy, Open Up Your Heart, Communicate, Manifest, Caution rx

*while shuffling the cards, the words NEWJEANS entertainment, came out my mouth lol! I would not be surprised if NWJNS establish their own company or they could possibly be moving to a different company, depending on their financial positions*

Anyways, the girls will come back better than ever! They will be expressing their gratitude to all the people who were on their side from the very beginning til the position they’ll be in once they’ve departed from HYBE. It seems as if the members 11:11 wishes will come true, and they’ll be a bit more stable and peaceful but it also seems like the girls will overwork themselves a bit too much because they want to prove to HYBE or the public that’s against them, that’s NWJNS as 5 shouldn’t be underestimated.

*individual messages from my cards for NWJNS members during this situation*

>this is so random lol but my gut is telling me to do this so I guess why not.🤷🏽‍♀️

Minji (Divorce) : my cards are telling her to consider canceling her contract with HYBE.

Hyein (Moving) : my cards are also telling her to consider canceling her contract with HYBE.

Haerin (Commitment rx) : my cards are also telling her to also just end her contract with HYBE.

Hanni (Health) : my cards are telling her to watch out for her physical and mental health! urgently so!💢

Danielle (Mercury Retrograde) : my cards are telling Ms Aries Mercury to hold herself back because people on social media will continue to attack her for what she says and supports.

That’s all for NWJNS today! The cards came out a bit better-ish than I had anticipated. I’m just relieved and touched to see how NWJNS will be okay after this situation. It will take some time for them to get back on their feet but they’re honestly going to kill it!

nwjns never die!🩷💛💚💜💙👏🏽

#newjeans tarot #black tarot readers #tarot reading #tarot #celeb tarot #tarotcommunity #kpop tarot #tarot master list #kpop #asks📦#newjeans #cardboardheartss #Hanni #Hyein #Minji #newjeans danielle #kang haerin #newjeans don’t be blue #NEWJEANS never die

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

No Distance Left to Run | Part 5 | S.R

Previous Part

Chapter Summary - Spencer puts his hatred for Cat aside in order to try and save you before it’s too late. But even if he manages to get you back from the clutches of her partner, can the two of you really have a future?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.08 Ashley, hostage situation, guns, swearing, talk of miscarriage (canon compliant), vomit, blood.

WC - 8.2k

Part 5 - Red Light, Green Light

Present Day

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Your eyes fluttered, your brain flitting between consciousness and sleep. You tried to fight to stay awake but you were just so tired.

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

The dark haired woman was still playing on her phone, feet up on the counter. The bracelet was sitting on the corner of it, tauntingly sparkling at you.

She wouldn’t tell you how she’d come to be in possession of it, of course she wouldn’t. But it made you fear what had happened to Spencer.

He was the last person who had it, what had this woman done to get her hands on? Was he here? Was he being held in another room? Was he…dead?

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Images kept flashing before your lids every time your eyes fluttered closed. Shimmers of gold and twinkling lights. Large, spherical golden orbs hanging from the ceiling, strings of fairy lights illuminating the otherwise drab BAU lobby.

“We need to talk.” Spencer sidled up to you, whispering so no one else would hear.

“No we don’t.” You kept your eyes focused on the elevator shaft, gripping your champagne flute tightly in your hand.

“Yes, we do.” He hissed and then you felt his hand on your back as he started leading you away.

You’d just arrived back from a case in New Hampshire where little girls were being abducted after their parents were killed with the unsub trying to rehome the girls with more “worthy” parents.

It was Spencer’s last case before he took a sabbatical to teach classes at the university and honestly you’d been quietly looking forward to him being gone.

It had been nearly three months since the night in Varnville and the tension between you was close to reaching fever pitch.

“Now is really not the time.” You spat as he continued to lead you down the corridor.

“Yeah well there has never been a good time.” He removed his hand from you as soon as you were far enough away from the others.

“Spencer, Rossi and Krystall are imminently going to come up in the elevator and either they will be engaged or Rossi will be crushed. Either way we need to be there.” You huffed, half wondering if you might crush your champagne glass with the grip you were holding it in.

“I can’t keep doing this, Y/N. It’s been months of you giving me the cold shoulder. The team knows something is up, they’ve been asking questions. I…I miss you.” He softened, his eyes full of sorrow. “I miss my best friend.”

You swallowed thickly, loosening the grip on your glass a little.

“I miss mine too.” You admitted. “But every time I look at you, I am flooded with guilt, Spencer. What we did…it should never have happened.”

“I just want us to be ok again.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“So do I.” You nodded.

“At least we can agree on something.” He offered you a slightly wistful smile.

“It’s going to take time though, Spencer. For us to get back to how things used to be.”

“But we can try?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah,” you sighed a little. “We can try.”

“She said yes!” Rossi’s voice suddenly carried down the hall followed in quick succession by cheers of congratulations.

You went to pass Spencer to hurry back to the festivities but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

The look he gave you said so much. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, you could tell he was struggling to pick just one.

Eventually he sighed and simply whispered, “you’re too good for him” before turning away from you and walking away.

“I think it’s time we up the ante, don’t you?”

Your heavy eyes shot back open at the sound of her voice. She was on her feet, her phone dangling from one hand.

“Just tell me what you want.” You groaned, your throat was so dry.

“I already told you. For you to see what he’s really like.” She scowled at you like you were a misbehaved child.

“I don’t know what that means.” You tugged on your bindings.

“Do you think they’ll find you?” She cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Wh-who?” You frowned at her change of subject.

“Your team. SSA’s Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Tara Lewis, Luke Alvez and Matt Simmons? And that’s not to forget technical analyst Penelope Garcia and of course Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Bravo, you know my team's names.” You rolled your tired eyes.

“Do you think they’ll find you?” She repeated.

“While I’m alive?” You huffed. “Or after you kill me?”

Her lip twitched up at the corner in a wry smile. She pocketed her phone and moved back over towards the camera on the edge of the counter. She pressed a button and the bright red light illuminated.

“It’s time we talked about why you’re here. Cat Adams wants you to know what your lover boy is really like.”

***

“Goddamnit,” Spencer groaned when he almost lost his footing for the hundredth time.

To his right came the sound of Cat’s playful giggle.

“I figured a genius like you would have a mathematical equation or some kind of scientific theory for this.” She snickered.

“Gravity dictates that my body is naturally being drawn towards the floor.” Spencer huffed.

“It has nothing to do with your gangly and uncoordinated limbs?” She laughed again.

“I’m not gangly.” He grumbled, wobbling again on his roller skates.

“You can’t skate backwards?” She chirruped, showing off her skills, keeping her eyes on his as she expertly manoeuvred herself backwards on the skates.

“I can barely go forward.” He scoffed.

“You need to keep your head up.”

Spencer pulled a face but did as she said, lifting his head, rolling it back a little too far and he stumbled again.

Cat laughed, quickly skating to his aid and grabbing him before he could hit the floor.

“Not that far.” She linked her arm through his, keeping him upright and slowly started to move them both on the rink. “Is someone having fun? I’m having fun.”

Spencer’s hand was on top of hers which rested on his forearm. He didn’t think he meant to put it there. He glanced at her and she glanced at him. He couldn’t speak, so Cat continued.

“If your stupid chaperones weren’t here, I’d ask the DJ to put on some Savage Garden for the guy-girl skate and we could totally make out.” Her tone was teasing but it made Spencer’s chest constrict.

He stumbled a little at the mere thought as she let go of him so she could look at him.

“You, uh, you realise what I have to do, right?” He fought to keep his balance,

“Uhm lemme think. Ask me a bunch of pointed questions and hope that I trip up?” She rolled her eyes, skating backwards again like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“What happened to your baby?” He asked, arms flailing a little.

“What?” She frowned.

“The last time I saw you, you were pregnant with someone else's baby that you said was mine.” Spencer shrugged but it threw his balance off again and he stumbled before managing to correct himself,

“Why are you asking me about that? I don’t wanna talk about that.” Her tone suddenly turned defensive.

“Hormonal changes during pregnancy expand the brain's capacity for empathy. I was actually just trying to see if I could use it against you.”

“Oh really? What about, um, sex?” She suddenly skated closer to him, really close. Soon her whole body was pressed against his and her arms were wrapping around his neck. “Why don’t you use that against me?”

He instinctively held her by the waist whilst swallowing thickly. She noticed the shift in his eyes, could see exactly what he was thinking about.

She pulled herself away and shook her head angrily. And then she was raising her arm and her palm collided with the side of Spencer’s face in a slap that echoed around the roller rink.

Spencer fell to the ground on his knees, hissing at the sensation of the hard floor slamming into his old injury.

He looked up to see her standing over him, her eyes dark with rage.

“You can’t even give me five minutes? Five minutes where you aren’t thinking about her?” She spat before she was turning effortlessly and skating away,

“Cat!” Spencer tried to scabble to his feet. “Cat, wait!”

By the time he got himself up she was already off the rink, sitting by the side and working her feet out of her skates.

He managed to push himself towards the edge and used the little wall to guide himself to the opening in the rink.

“She’ll never love you.” Cat spat harshly, standing back up once she had the skates off. “Not like you love her.”

“You’re going to make sure of that right?” Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth. “That’s what this is about. “You want Y/N to be scared of me the way she is of her husband.”

Cat’s expression didn’t change, she was always so hard to read even for a seasoned profiler.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Cat folded her arms. “If you can’t go five minutes without thinking about her while you’re here with me then this date is over. Wrap it up boys.”

Spencer clenched his jaw, glancing over his shoulder towards Luke in the booth and shook his head subtly.

“You have my undivided attention, I promise.” Spencer spoke as he looked back at her.

“I don’t believe you.” Cat shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to prove it to you.” He shrugged, powerlessly.

“You’re pathetic, do you know that?” She surprised him with her words.

“How so?” He humoured her.

“Pining after a married woman all these years.” She clucked.

“Yeah well I think you know enough about her to know that he’s out of the way now. You’ve had eyes on her, your partner, Juliette, she’s been stalking her. When Jared was arrested you found your perfect time to strike, the perfect leverage over me.

She was at Rossi’s wedding, I remember her. She overheard me talking about Y/N and what happened to her husband and the fact that I have feelings for her. And now you want to use that against me, you want her to hate me because me and my team had Lindsey arrested. I know you’re game, Cat, you’re predictable. And I also know you won’t have her killed because it’s too easy.”

“You think any of this has been easy?” She scoffed. “Clearly I’m not as predictable as you think.”

“What does that mean?” Spencer swallowed thickly.

“You should have Garcia check her emails.” Her lips turned up into a wicked smirk.

Spencer felt his blood turn to ice in his veins and he turned back to Luke once more who was already on his phone calling Quantico.

***

“Ohemgee. Ohemgee!” Penelope screamed as your face materialised on the big screen in the round table room, tied to the chair just like you had been in the photograph.

Emily nudged her in her arm to silence the blonde as the video started to play.

“It’s time we talked about why you’re here. Cat Adams wants you to know what your lover boy is really like.” Weaver’s voice flooded the speakers.

She was barely in shot, all of her that could be seen was one shoulder and half of her back. Clearly the point was to have the focus on you.

“Ah, of course she’s behind this.” You croaked, sounding exhausted. You didn’t look to be injured aside from the dried blood still on your face and matted into your hair. “So this is about Spencer, I’m some kind of pawn in her sick revenge fantasy?”

“Oh finally, she gets it.” Weaver scoffed.

“Why me? We’re friends, that’s all.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” Weaver’s shoulder tensed, they all saw it. “I’ve been watching you for a while Y/N, I know exactly what you and Spencer are to each other.”

Emily, Tara, JJ and Rossi frowned at the screen, not sure what she was getting at. Garcia chewed on her lip guiltily, remembering what Spencer had told her at Rossi’s wedding.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You sighed, but they all saw your jaw tighten.

“He must mean something to you if you’d cheat on your husband with him. Even if your husband does beat you, it’s still infidelity.” Weaver chuckled.

“She…Spencer…no, no way.” Garcia frowned now. He had not told her that.

“Shush, Garcia.” Emily scalded her.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but I would never cheat on my husband.” You told her but all the agents watching knew it was a lie.

They could read you well enough to know you were bluffing, hopefully Weaver couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t lie to me if I was you.” Weaver spat and then she raised her arm into frame.

Penelope gasped as the gun came into view, pointing right at you. Emily, Tara, Rossi and JJ all stood frozen in fear.

“I hate to break this to you, but you aren’t the first person to hold me hostage. You aren’t the first person to hold a gun to me.” You tried to keep control of the situation, refusing to show her your fear.

“He’s no better than your jerk husband.” Juliette changed the subject.

“Reid, was right.” JJ muttered under her breath.

“And how would you know that?” You sighed again.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“You mean what he did in prison? I know all about that. He did what he did to survive.”

JJ wrapped her arms around her body, her legs shaking a little but unable to move to sit down. Emily’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply and she was gnawing on one of her fingernails. Penelope had silent tears rolling down her cheeks beneath her lime green glasses.

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what he did after prison.” Weaver chuckled darkly.

“And what would that be?” You rolled your eyes.

“His time inside changed him, Y/N. He’s not the same man you fell in love with.”

“I never said I was in love with him.”

“Yes, you did.” Juliette laughed again, the gun shaking a little as she did so.

“I’m getting a little tired of this cryptic thing. Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

Rossi exhaled loudly through his nose while Tara clenched her hands into fists.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Juliette chuckled deeply, stepping back behind the camera.

They saw your eyes follow her, and they also saw the way your body straightened in the chair.

“Reid was right.” JJ repeated. “She was at the wedding, she overheard him talking to Max.”

“Excuse me?” You tried to remain calm.

“Truth or dare? Please pick truth because I am dying to hear you confess a secret you would never admit out loud.”

“How do you know about that?” You finally gave over, knowing there was no point in denying it anymore. It didn’t matter how she knew, she did know.

“I know a lot of things.” Juliette replied curtly. “I know you are in love with him, I know you cheated on your husband with him. And I also know what a monster he is.”

At the roller rink, crowded around Luke’s phone as they watched the same video, Spencer’s back stiffened and tears flooded his eyes. Matt was holding Cat roughly by the arm a few feet away and he could see her in his peripheral vision.

“Spencer Reid is not a monster.” You retorted with a scoff.

“Oh really?” Weaver spoke sarcastically. “So you think nice men strangle women?”

Spencer’s nostrils flared and he closed his eyes briefly trying to stop the tears. Luke’s grip on his phone tightened.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that Spencer strangled someone? Ok, I’ll bite, what do you think you know?”

Spencer held his breath, so did Luke and Matt. So did Emily, Garcia, JJ, Tara and Rossi back at Quantico.

“You never saw the tapes did you?”

“What tapes?”

“The tapes from the interrogation room in which Spencer Reid held Cat by her throat against a wall and threatened to kill her while she was pregnant.” Juliette spat viciously.

“That didn’t happen.” You shook your head.

“Sweetheart, it most certainly did happen. He is worse than your husband, at least you weren’t pregnant when he had his hand around your throat. And to make matters tragically worse, Cat lost her baby as a result.”

Your eyes widened as you started at Weaver over the camera, your bottom lip quivering slightly.

Back at Quantico Garcia gasped yet again while JJ shook her head in disbelief.

“Is that true?” Spencer glanced up at Cat, being held roughly by the arm by Matt. “That’s not true.”

“It most certainly is true.” Cat subconsciously placed her other hand on her belly.

The tears forced their way out of Spencer’s eyes and as he looked back at the phone he saw tears rolling down your cheeks too.

“No, no that didn’t happen.” You shook your head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Weaver’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “Cat wants you to know the truth before I send you to your grave.”

And then the sound of several gunshots screamed through the tinny phone speakers and the screen suddenly went black. Spencer whimpered, staring at the dark screen for a few seconds before looking up at Cat.

“What have you done?” His tears streamed hot and angry down his face. “What the fuck have you done?”

He yanked her free of Matt’s hold and held her roughly by the biceps as he started shaking her.

“This time, I will kill you. I will fucking kill you!” He spat in her face and he shook her harder.

“You can’t win them all, Spencie.” Cat smirked menacingly at him.

He felt a set of strong hands on his shoulders and Luke was trying to pull him back from Cat while Matt worked on freeing Cat from his hold.

“Don’t, stop it!” Spencer fought against Luke. “Let me kill her!”

“Not gonna happen, Reid.” Luke growled and between him and Matt they managed to get the two of them apart.

Spencer was breathing heavily, his tears never ending. Luke held his arm as if afraid Spencer would go after her again. He started at Cat through bleary eyes for a moment or two before shaking his head. He snatched his arm out of Luke’s hold and pushed past the other man, away from Cat and towards the door.

His footsteps were heavy and loud as he stormed away before he did something stupid. When he reached the door he threw it open so violently it bounced back against the wall.

He fled into the dark night as his breathing got heavier and his vision was almost entirely compromised. His head started to spin, the world started to spin.

He stumbled down the steps of the roller rink, using the handrail to try and keep himself upright. When he reached the bottom his stomach lurched and he suddenly vomited all over the concrete.

He vaguely heard the door open but didn’t pay it any attention as he emptied his guts onto the sidewalk.

Soon there was a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine in soothing motions.

“It’s ok, Reid, let it out. Let it all out.” Luke cooed.

Spencer stayed doubled over until he had nothing left and he simply dry heaved. Tears were still rapidly falling from his eyes when he stood back up.

And when he looked at Luke, he swore the other man’s own eyes were misty with tears.

***

“Oh my…no…no! No she didn’t…she didn’t…” Penelope stumbled on her heels until she hit the table, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“She can’t be.” JJ croaked. “She couldn’t…”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked at Rossi through tear riddled eyes.

“It could be a trick.” Tara’s voice was equally as cracked as JJ’s. “It has to be a trick.”

“We need to find where they are.” Emily spoke, voice devoid of emotion as she continued to stare at the blank screen. “We need a location.”

“The emails are untraceable.” Penelope whined.

“There had to be something in the video, some kind of clue.” Rossi agreed, reaching over to Garcia’s laptop.

“I can’t watch it again.” Garcia sobbed.

“Go then. Get a cup of tea and calm down.” Emily finally turned to face them. “I know what we just witnessed was beyond horrible. But if Juliette Weaver really did just kill our friend, then she has to pay for what she's done. So regroup, refocus. Y/N needs us.”

Garcia sniffed and nodded at her boss, turning on her heels and wobbling to the door. JJ followed her whilst Emily, Rossi and Tara stayed put.

Emily gave them both a look, one that asked if they were up for this and they both nodded stiffly.

“Ok,” Emily swallowed. “Play it again, Dave.”

***

Spencer couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink his eyes on the drive back to Quantico. Matt went with swat who were taking Cat back to prison while Luke drove him and Spencer back to the bureau.

“Reid, you gotta think.” Luke tried to engage him as he drove, glancing at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. “This is a game to Cat, a meticulously crafted game. Nothing is left to chance, wherever Juliette took Y/N means something. You gotta think.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, keeping his eyes trained out of the window of the SUV.

“What’s the point? She’s dead. It’s over.” His voice sounded haggard, fractured.

“We don’t know that, man. The video cut out, we don’t know she’s dead.” Luke tried to convince him but he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. “And if she isn’t dead, we’ve gotta find her before Weaver kills her for real.”

Spencer closed his tired eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window. He tried his hardest to focus on the small details of those images which haunted him, which may haunt him for the rest of his life.

It was a relatively plain room. The floor was out of shot and he could only see one wall which had been behind you. It was an off white colour, nothing of interest. Nothing stood out in that damn room.

“They could be anywhere, Luke.” Spencer opened his eyes again.

“Try harder.” Luke was stern. “There was something, something you’re missing. This place means something to the two of you, it has to.”

Spencer scrunched his brow in thought as he tried to recall places that might mean something to the two of you. You had fifteen years of history, how could he filter through all of that right now?

“I really don’t know, Luke.” Spencer groaned.

“Yes, you do. Somewhere in your brain you know exactly where she is. Your mind is clouded right now because it's trying to process too much. It's the same reason it took you longer than it normally would to recognise Weaver. You know where they are, think. Off of the top of your head, where is a place that means something to you and Y/N?”

Spencer huffed loudly, closing his eyes again. This time however he didn’t see the images from your final moments behind his lids.

The sun was shining and he was standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, twiddling his thumbs, feeling like the world's biggest idiot for getting this so wrong.

“Sorry, sorry I’m late, I know.” Penelope Garcia tottered towards the two of you, pushing her bangs back off her face.

“It’s ok, it doesn’t start for another ten minutes.” You smiled as you embraced her.

Spencer looked dumbly between you and Garcia, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows so high they almost hit his hairline.

“Happy birthday, boy wonder.” Garcia grinned at him.

“Uh…” He swallowed thickly. “Thanks?”

“Shall we?” You motioned towards the front door of the movie theatre and Garcia nodded, taking the lead.

You hung back a little, looking at the confusion that was still spreading across the young genius's face.

“You don’t mind, do you? Penelope loves Harry Potter almost as much as I do.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Why would I mind?” He shook it off but was quickly pushing past you inside.

As he entered the Film Factory, the hole in the wall movie theatre he took in the scent of popcorn that wafted up his nose and the sounds of you and Penelope chatting among yourself flooded his ears.

Maybe he could have been a little more specific about his idea of tonight, because clearly you’d gotten the wrong end of the stick and invited Penelope along on what was supposed to be a date.

He tried to ignore the way his stomach tightened and his chest constricted at his utter stupidity.

As he passed towards the booth, the small room with the little window peeping out between large, plush red curtains, his eyes scanned over the sign perched above the booth…

“Give me your phone.” Spencer’s eyes shot open and he turned to Luke in a panic.

“Uh, ok?” Luke frowned, fishing in his pocket with one hand whilst keeping the other on the wheel.

He soon handed the device to Spencer and the younger man was quickly trying to navigate his way through the smartphone. After a few failed attempts he found the video again.

He paused it as soon as it started and zoomed in on the still. On the wall behind you, mostly out of frame, he was just able to make out a sign. In cobalt blue he could see the letters FI on one line and FAC on the line below. And underneath that he could see part of a drawing of a film reel.

“Turn the car around.” Spencer hurriedly told Luke.

“What?”

“Turn the car around, I know where they are.”

Luke did as he was told and was quickly making an U-turn whilst switching his lights and siren on.

“It’s a place called the Film Factory, it’s an old movie theatre that shut down a few years back. I took Y/N there on what was supposed to be our first date but she misunderstood and invited Garcia. We’ve been there countless times since, it’s like a…oh fuck.” Spencer trailed off with a gasp.

“What?” Luke asked as he weaved in and out of traffic.

“The wedding wasn’t the only place I recognised Weaver from…”

As he passed towards the booth, the small room with the little window peeping out between large, plush red curtains, his eyes scanned over the sign perched above the booth with the theatre's name and logo before looking at the young girl in the booth.

She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, possibly even younger. She had dark hair and an incredibly bored expression on her features.

“I just need to grab one more ticket to The Deathly Hallows, please.” Spencer spoke politely,

“Seven bucks.” The young girl smacked a piece of gum in her mouth.

Spencer handed over a ten and she handed him his change and a third ticket. He felt her eyes on him all the way to the concession stand.

“She worked there. For years actually. She was there nearly every time I’ve been there. She’s seen Y/N and I there on multiple occasions. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.” Spencer shook his head.

“You were in tunnel vision. Your brain was clouded because this was personal.” Luke stepped on the gas, dialling Emily’s number via his car display.

“My inability to see what was right in front of me might have just gotten her killed.” Spencer spat, balling his hands into fists.

The phone started to ring. Before Luke could reply Emily had answered.

“Alvez, how did it go?”

“That’s not important. We know where Weaver is, we’re heading there now. Reid will send you an address.”

“Wait for back up when you get there.” Emily instructed.

Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“With all due respect, Emily,” he spoke harshly. “That’s never going to happen.”

***

“Because, Cat wants you to know the truth before I send you to your grave.”

She curled her finger around the trigger and didn’t hesitate in pulling it. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.

You closed your eyes and screamed out into the small room, knowing it would do no good, no one would hear you. It took you several seconds to realise you didn’t feel any pain.

Your heart beat frantically against your chest and you slowly opened your eyes to see the woman laughing at you as she put the gun down on the desk.

Your eyes fell down to your torso. No blood, no pain. Blanks. She’d fired blanks.

Your breathing was erratic, your close brush with death forcing a few tears from your eyes. The woman laughed hysterically at the fear on your face.

You tried to focus and noticed the red light was off on the camera now. She toyed with both the camera and her phone for a while, still laughing to herself. You could only assume what she must be doing, it was the same she’d done when she’d taken the photograph.

And if like you’d suspected she was sending it to your team, they would think you were dead.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” You whined slightly.

“Cat gave me very specific instructions. She doesn’t want you dead, she just wants you to know what kind of a man Spencer Reid really is.” The woman spoke softly, almost like she cared. “You have a type.”

“Spencer is nothing like my husband.” You growled.

“When I’m done with you, and you scurry back to Quantico, watch the tapes. You’ll see for yourself. He had Cat around the throat just like your husband did to you.”

“So you don’t plan to kill me?”

“Well that will depend.” She smirked.

“On what?” You sighed.

“Cat’s orders. If she doesn’t get what she wants out of Spencer, I may have no choice.” She shrugged.

“Cat Adams is a psychopath. Did she make you feel special? Do you think she cares about you? I hate to break it to you but we’ve seen it before. You aren’t her first partner. She used another woman just like you to have Spencer arrested. But ultimately her game with him was more important than the woman she claimed to love. Cat cheated on Lindsey, got pregnant by a prison guard just so she could pretend she’d had Spencer sexually assaulted.

Cat doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She will toss you aside as soon as she doesn’t need you anymore. You’re disposable, sweetheart. You’re not special, you’re just the only one who fell for her act.” You didn’t mince your words.

You saw the woman’s face fall, her nostrils flare at your summation. She moved closer to you and quickly dropped to the floor in front of you. She grabbed your jaw in one hand, digging in firmly with her fingertips.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know her!” She spat.

“I know her better than you do. She’s using you! You will end up in prison for this, whether you kill me or not. And where will she be then?” You dared rile her.

“You don’t know anything.” The woman spat, tightening her hold on your jaw.

You saw her other hand moving behind her back and soon you caught the glint of a blade catching the overhead light.

You swallowed, trying to wriggle free of her hold. She brought the tip of the blade to your chest, right beneath your collarbone.

“I thought you weren’t going to kill me?” You spoke as she squeezed your jaw.

“Yeah well,” she let go of your face and pressed the blade harder against your skin. “Plans change.”

***

“Reid, wait!” Luke ran after him towards the boarded up old movie theatre.

The second the car rolled to a stop Spencer had leapt out of the passenger seat and onto the street, throwing his Kevlar vest on as he went.

“I’m going in there and you can’t stop me.” He barely had it over his head when he was drawing his gun.

“We need to wait for back up.” Luke reminded him, working his own vest on.

Spencer stopped by the door of the old building, fastening the Velcro straps with one hand.

“Alvez, if for whatever reason, we didn’t witness Y/N’s death, if she is still alive, she might not have much time.” Spencer stared at him in frustration.

“If you go in there without back up you might end up dead, Reid.”

“You’re my back up.” Spencer got his vest done up and turned to the door. “Cover me.”

Before Luke could even blink, Spencer was heading forward, gun outstretched as he reached for the door with his free hand.

It was unlocked. He shoved it open, eyes quickly taking in the entrance way, gun following his line of sight.

Luke exhaled and drew his firearm, following in Spencer’s footsteps hurriedly. This seemed like a monumentally bad idea, but there was no way Luke was letting him go alone.

He followed hot on Spencer’s heels as they canvassed the lobby. Spencer clearly had a destination in mind and he pushed forward towards the little ticket booth window.

The place was a mess of cobwebs and ripped and torn movie posters everywhere. As he walked Luke heard cracking under foot. He looked down, the floor was littered with little beads.

Popcorn kernels.

The curtains were draped closed but there was a door to the right hand side. Spencer stopped in front of it and glanced at Luke over his shoulder. His other hand reached for the door handle.

Spencer’s heart thumped in his chest, beating more fiercely than he’d ever felt it before. His stomach lurched like he might be sick again and he took a deep breath to try and stem the nausea.

As he tried the handle, another SUV pulled up outside and Emily, JJ, Rossi and Tara all threw themselves from the vehicle.

Spencer pulled down the handle and shoved open the door.

“FBI don’t move!” He yelled into the small room.

Juliette Weaver was on her knees on the floor but quickly jumped up, spinning around the chair you occupied and holding a knife to your throat.

The relief that flooded him seeing you looking back at him, very much alive, was almost overwhelming. His knees buckled a little but he pushed past it. There would be time for him to fall apart later.

“Welcome to the party Doctor Reid, you’re just in time.” She smirked.

Spencer’s stomach lurched again at the sight of the blood spilling from an open wound of your chest. Your eyes met briefly as he stepped into the room.

“Juliette, you don’t want to do this.” He held his hands up before slowly lowering them and holstering his gun. “Put the knife down.”

“I’m not going back to prison.” She shook her head, her other hand was on your shoulder, gripping you tightly.

“Don’t do this because of Cat. She manipulated you.” Spencer tried to reason with her.

He was blocking Luke’s shot and Luke was sure he was doing it on purpose.

“You don’t know her!” Juliette screamed at him, holding you tighter.

You whimpered as the blade pressed harder against your throat. You had tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared at Spencer.

You tried to commit every little bit of him to memory, convinced this was the last time you’d ever see him. He really was so beautiful, you wished you’d gotten to tell him that.

“I know she wanted to prove a point.” He held his hands up and took another step forward. “She wanted Y/N to know that I am no better than her husband. It’s true, Y/N, what she said about me. I did try to choke Cat to death because she kidnapped my mother. Prison changed me, maybe I am no different from your husband.”

“Don’t say that.” You sobbed. “It’s not true.”

“It is true.” He nodded. “I would have killed her if JJ hadn’t been there to stop me and I wouldn’t have felt bad. I’m not a good man, Y/N. I’m not the man you think I am.”

Luke knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to make you hate him the way Cat wanted in the hopes if he achieved that Juliette would let you go.

Luke had his gun trained towards Juliette but Spencer was still blocking his shot. If he just moved a little to the side he could get a clean shot.

He heard soft footsteps behind him and he didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to. He kept his gun high, on the off chance Spencer would move.

The footsteps crept to his right, further down the corridor. They were surrounding the place, if Weaver made it out of that ticket booth she wouldn’t get much further.

“Are you listening to him? Do you see now?” Juliette shook you.

You made eye contact with him again and you understood. You understood what he was trying to do.

“I see it,” you nodded. “You’re no better than him.”

Hearing those words from your lips made his stomach lurch again. His jaw clenched and he felt tears behind his eyes.

“You’ve made your point Juliette. Let her go, please?” Spencer pleaded with her.

Spencer took another step forward, creating enough space behind him for Luke to manoeuvre into the small room.

He pointed the gun at Juliette who still had the blade against your throat.

“Juliette, there’s no way out of this. Put the knife down or I will have to shoot you. You don’t wanna die today.” Luke tried to talk her down.

Her eyes flicked over to him and then back to Spencer. She squeezed your shoulder, blade pressing dangerously against your flesh.

“I ain’t going back to prison.” She repeated and her hand holding the blade twitched.

Less than a second later Luke fired his weapon. The bullet penetrated her right shoulder, surely hurting her but not killing her. She yelled out in pain, stumbling backwards and dropping the knife from her weakened hand as she fell against the wall and slid to the floor.

Luke hurried to her side, holstering his weapon and kicking the blade away. She howled again when he knelt in front of her and pressed on her gunshot wound, trying to contain the bleeding.

“We need a medic!” He called out the door where he knew his team was waiting.

Soon the small room became crowded, Rossi was by Luke’s side, keeping an eye on Weaver while Emily and JJ holstered their weapons and allowed themselves to breathe a sigh of relief that you were ok. Tara was hurrying behind you and cutting through your bindings.

Spencer knelt in front of you, his tears now escaping as he looked at you and you looked at him and he thanked every higher power that you were alive.

Tara helped you stand up, you were still bleeding from the cut on your chest and your legs shook as you stood. Spencer got to his feet too and the two of you continued to stare at each other.

“We need to get you seen to.” Tara spoke softly, placing a hand on your lower back.

You nodded but kept your eyes on Spencer, smiling weakly at him. You allowed her to lead you from the room and Spencer watched you go.

He stood there for some time, letting the tears fall, letting him feel the relief wash over him. He wasn’t aware of what was going on around him, the people moving around, the medic coming to take care of Weaver’s gunshot wound.

The world seemed to move slowly around him. He could see what was happening but he didn’t feel connected to it. He felt as though he was watching it all unfold from above, no longer tethered to reality.

He thought he’d watched you die. He thought he’d lost you forever. He hadn’t even had a chance to process your death when he’d found you alive.

The amount of thoughts running through his brain caused him to switch off from reality while he tried to sift through them. He didn’t feel JJ’s hand on his shoulder, he didn’t notice that she’d led him outside.

He was brought back around by the temperature change as JJ led him out to the sidewalk. He blinked several times taking in the street, the SUVs, two ambulances, lots of people.

Juliette Weaver was taken to the hospital to be patched up before she would be detained. Cat Adams was on her way back to prison where she would soon meet her end at the hand of the lethal injection.

Spencer stood still on the sidewalk, his mind unable to shut off. You were supposed to be dead. His brain had already started trying to grieve you. But you weren’t dead. What did that mean now?

Rossi was at his side now, holding something out in his hand. Without thinking too much, Spencer held out his own hand and Rossi coiled the item into his palm.

When he closed his hand around it, it was cool beneath his fingers. He knew without looking exactly what it was.

“Hey kid?” Rossi spoke quietly.

“Hmm?” Spencer croaked.

“Garcia wanted you to know something…”

***

You refused to go to the hospital, that was the last place you wanted to go. The cut on your chest and your head wound weren’t bad enough to warrant it and you insisted the paramedic patch you up in the ambulance.

Your heart rate was still erratic and you wondered if it would ever return to normal. You had been so sure you were going to die today and that adrenaline still ran through your veins.

Emily was the first to come and see you, holding her cell phone out for you. When you put it to your ear your children's voice encompassed you, causing you to cry once more.

“Mommy, when will you be home?”

“We miss you mom.”

Knowing they were safe and hearing their voices calmed you a little. Liv had collected them from school when you couldn’t and taken them to her place in case your own home wasn’t safe. It was late and they should have been in bed already, Liv said she would keep them for the night and drop them off at school in the morning.

You were crying still when you thanked Emily and handed her phone back. When you looked away from Emily, Spencer was hovering nearby, looking unsure if he should come over. You offered him a small smile which gave him the green light.

Taking a breath he slowly started towards you. Emily saw him coming and patted your shoulder gently.

“I’ll give you a minute.” She whispered before turning and heading away.

Spencer ambled over, hands in his pockets and rolling his lip between his teeth. He cautiously sat down next to you on the lip of the ambulance. He looked at you, his eyes full of so many emotions.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He exhaled shakily.

“It’s not your fault.” You sniffed, wiping your tears on your sleeve.

“It kinda is though. She used you as a pawn in her sick and twisted revenge against me.” Spencer shook his head.

“It’s fine, it’s over now.” You breathed. “You know I don’t really think you’re anything like him? I just said that because I thought it might save my life.”

He looked away from you, out across the street. His body deflated and he closed his eyes for a few long seconds.

“I wasn’t lying, Y/N, I have changed since prison. What I did to Cat…I don’t feel bad about it. The miscarriage, I do feel bad about. If I had caused that, the death of an unborn child, I would never have forgiven myself. But Garcia checked, she actually miscarried months later. And so I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She kidnapped my mom, she had me arrested. But it makes me no better than your husband.” He shook his head, sniffing lightly.

You placed your hand on his arm and he looked back at you, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Spencer, I don’t think you’re anything like him.” You shook your head. “You’re probably the only person in the world who has ever really loved me.”

“But things are just….so complicated.” He frowned.

“True, I probably still have a long battle ahead of me to keep Jared out of my life. I have two kids who are going to need me more than ever. But life is always going to be complicated and messy and if we try to wait for the right time…” you trailed off and squeezed his arm softly.

His eyes flit down to your hand and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw your now empty ring finger resting on his arm.

“If we try to wait for the right time, we might be waiting another fifteen years?” He finished for you, a small smile creeping to his lips.

“Exactly.” You nodded, your own lip twitching at the corner.

“But that really begs the question…”

“Ask me.”

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, turning his body a little so he was facing you properly. He reached out and took hold of your hand, threading his fingers in yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Truth or dare?

“Truth.” You replied quickly.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate in responding. “You were my first love, Spence. I was always too scared to admit it and then I met Jared and I thought it might help me get over those feelings. But it didn’t. And I pushed you away and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for doing that.”

“Hey, it’s ok.” He squeezed your hand gently. “I understand. The truth is I don’t know how to be in this world if I’m not wishing for a future with you.”

His free hand went back inside of his pocket and he pulled out the item Rossi had handed him. The silver and gold of the bracelet shimmered in the light from the ambulance. He let go of your hand and you held it out for him to drape the metal around your wrist before he clasped it shut.

You smiled softly at each other, his hand finding yours again and for a moment or two you sat in silence. You took in the street, the old abandoned movie theatre you and Spencer had spent so much time in together.

All those memories seemed so clear now. All the old horror movies he’d taken you to see which you told him you hated but you secretly loved because when you got scared it gave you an excuse to curl in close to him.

All the foreign movie festivals you’d gone to, some of which lacked subtitles and Spencer would lean in close and whisper the translations to you.

All the shared popcorn and the accidental brushing of fingers as you both reached in at the same time.

The hours you must have spent inside of those walls together, in your own little bubble all came flooding back, all of those adventures you’d watched playing out on the screen side by side.

And it made perfect sense that you should be sitting here now, on the cusp of your latest adventure together.

You glanced back at him and as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked at you too.

“Hey Spence?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Just to confirm, because you didn’t actually say it…” you trailed off and Spencer chuckled lightly.

He was quick to move his free hand to your cheek, drawing you closer and then he kissed you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard fireworks going off like it was the Fourth of July. He was gentle with you but his adoration was spoken silently against your lips.

It was a new hope, a new beginning. It was two people who had been unfathomably in love with each other for well over a decade finally coming together.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go too far and he kept his hand on your cheek as though scared he might lose you again. He smiled at you softly.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He laughed.

“After all this time?” You whispered.

“Always, my love. Always.”

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @frostandflamesfanfic @pixiehex1985 @release-your-sweets @megan-mars @hales-17 @onlyspence @werewolfbansheelove @gubsi @vivian-555 @ropickle @meowiemari @dil3mma @wolfstar-17 @kylakins88 @shqwqrma

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 1 year

Text

Love-Letters

Jane Murdstone x Fem!Maid!Reader

Hiyaaaa I've finally finished my Jane murdstone fic and it's the first fic I'll upload on Tumblr so...

Big thank you to my freinds for proof reading this mess :3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, minors DNI

Authors note: Just because we love our red flag on legs. Smutty fanfic of Female Reader Maid and Jane Murdstone. Secrets, Love confessions, (kinda) soft Jane, top! Jane, bottom! Reader.

Words: 4’000+

Ao3 Link

Taglist

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The second you saw her in the maid's quarters, holding a stack of notes in her hand and glaring at you, you knew you were royally fucked. There she stood. The object of your (very questionable) affection, Jane Murdstone. You knew you shouldn’t like her, but you couldn’t help yourself. There was just something enchanting about the way she carried herself.

Jane Murdstone, who has been terrorising you for so many months, ever since she set foot in your Lady's manor and made you her personal maid.

THE Miss Murdstone who, as soon as you laid eyes on her, burned her beautiful image in your mind and heart, making it impossible to forget her icy blue eyes, the pale ivory skin, or her soft long black tresses you so gladly brushed out each morning and evening. And even though everyone else feared the Iron Lady, you saw a gentler, more vulnerable side of her, you saw behind the facade, and that's what made you fall for that woman.

However, this Jane Murdstone was now marching up to you at a dangerous pace, her eyes narrow and unreadable. A shiver went down your spine, as soon as she stood towering in front of you in all her stoic beauty, looking down at your small and weak form.

“What is this?” She asked through gritted teeth, wiggling the loose notes in front of your face. Confused, you focused on the pages in her hand, and your heart dropped. She was holding the poems and love letters you’d written about her in secret. The only way to confront your feelings towards her and the biggest secret you’ve harboured in your boring little life as a maid. Have you forgotten to put them away? You are usually so careful, but this time it must have slipped your mind. Fear rose in you and you swallowed dryly.

“I- I don’t know my Lady.” You answer, trying to sound as clueless as you possibly could with the amount of panic and fear rushing through your veins. Miss Murdstone, of course, picked up on the slight quiver in your voice. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out fear and lies. You didn’t dare look at her, as you were sure disgust and discontent would colour Jane’s ivory features.

“Lies,” She hissed and gripped your chin painfully, moving your head so you had no other choice but to make eye contact with her. The second your eyes met hers, your fear mixed with confusion. She looked… Hurt? Afraid? Angry? The stoic Iron Lady was portraying emotions you have never seen on her face, or at least emotions she would never dare show anyone.

“I know you wrote those letters and poems. What were you hoping to achieve with that? Have you planned for me to find them? To mock me? To get under my skin? What is it?” She barked at you, anger rising in her throat. How could you? Your eyes softened as you recognised what she felt. Pain. But… Why would your poems and letters, which describe her otherworldly beauty and confess your true and raw feelings for her cause pain?

“My Lady I-”

“Save it,” She grunted and shoved you to the side, leaving you stumbling to the ground.

“I do not need to remind you of your place in this household, do I? If you should ever as much as THINK of trying to get under my skin again with such childish mockery, I WILL have you thrown out. And that is a promise!” She stormed off towards the direction of her study and you followed suit, unsure of what to do or say but you wanted to tell her, tell her that you were not mocking her but that every word you wrote is true. Tell her that you, indeed, have lost yourself in her sparkling blue orbs, that you longed to run your fingers through her raven black locks, that you desired to feel what her soft and pink lips feel on your own. How endearing her little quirks and laughs were when she was relaxed, reading a book whilst you helped her get ready for the day. You wanted to tell her all of this and so much more, but you knew it wasn’t right.

The moment she entered her study, you could hear the sizzling of the flames in the fireplace grow louder. Was she… no… You rushed in only to freeze in place, watching with horror and dismay as she had thrown your notes, the declaration of your undying devotion and love for her, into the blazing flames.

“And you…” She turned to look at you, an enraged expression etched into her face, obscuring her usually so beautiful features, causing the little faint scar on her upper lip to become very noticeable.

“I do not wish to have you anywhere near me ever again! You clearly have gotten way too comfortable, thinking I wouldn’t notice your disrespect towards me. Now get out… Get. OUT!” Jane was fuming with anger. She thought you might have been different, kinder, but you were just like everyone else.

You didn’t know what to say, simply looking at the dancing flames consuming your thoughts and feelings. You didn’t dare look at her anymore and simply turned around to leave the study, feeling numb and empty. The walk to your chamber felt long and treacherous with a million thoughts running through your head, yet it was blank at the same time. You were sure, that night was the worst night of your entire existence. You felt heartbroken and worried about what was going to happen now that she knew you craved the fairer sex. Not once were you able to close your eyes, as the haunting image of her face lined with hurt and betrayal presented itself to you as soon as you did.

Of course, you were hoping for this to be a bad dream, but the next morning, Mr. Murdstone, her brother, informed you of your new position as a kitchen maid. And that’s where you were to remain, not once being able to see Jane’s face or hear her voice. No matter how much pain it caused you to see her that night, it hurt even more not being able to see her at all. You even caught yourself sneaking out of the kitchen and through the manor just to, hopefully, accidentally bump into her but luck wasn’t on your side. The other maids kept complaining about Miss Murdstones temper. Every maid who was assigned to her hasn’t lasted for more than a day. Each and every one of them has come back to the maids quarters either furious, spitting vile comments about your beloved Lady, or sobbing but not once were you asked to return to your original position as Jane’s personal maid. You had almost given up on ever being able to see her again, that was until one morning Mr. Murdstone entered the kitchen, looking for you.

“Y/n?” He called out for you, causing all the other maids working in the kitchen to turn around and face you with curiosity. Some have already started whispering and gossiping as soon as you were released from your role as Miss Murdstone’s personal maid. But this… This must have been even worse. You felt helpless.

“Yes, Sir?” You set the soap aside and dried your hands on your apron as you turned around, bowing lightly. The feeling of so many eyes on you was uncomfortable. You only wanted one pair of eyes on you but the person whose icy blue diamonds belonged to didn’t want you around anymore.

“My sister is in need of assistance and none of the other maids are currently at disposal. Now I know for some reason she has asked me to remove you as her personal maid. However, I do not know why nor do I care to find out. I trust you have enough time to spare?” He looked at you, waiting for a reply. Was this really happening? Have you heard correctly? Anxiety rose in your chest, you took a deep breath nodding lightly.

“Of course, Sir.” Your answer was quiet. This seemed to suffice as he just turned around without another word and left. Miss Murdstone might be known for her iron status but it was her brother you feared more than anyone in this household. Nervously you took your kitchen apron off and put your regular apron on, making your way down the hall and up the stairs to Jane’s chambers. You tucked a strand of hair, which had fallen out of your braid when changing the apron, behind your ear and knocked, waiting for her to call you in.

Once you heard her calling you in, you opened the door and entered. Closing the door again behind you, you saw her sitting at her vanity still in her nightgown. She hadn’t noticed you yet and was focused on unbraiding her hair - that beautiful silky raven hair. With careful steps, you walked towards her, standing behind her and grabbing the brush on the table to start brushing through her locks. Jane was too busy rummaging through her vanity drawer to look up at you but she did notice a change of maid.

“Finally someone who knows how to use a hairbrush correctly. All the other maids were klutzes.” She murmured, more to herself than to you, then she looked up and froze.

“What are you doing here? I thought I was clear enough with my demands to have you out of my face.” She spat and moved to grip your wrist, stopping you from brushing out her hair. You jumped at her reaction. Her grip was tight and it was starting to hurt.

“None of the other maids are available, my Lady, so Sir Murdstone has asked me to come and assist you” You replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible to avoid any further irritation. She huffed and let go of your hand, glaring at you poisonously through the mirror. After a few seconds and a deep breath later, you continued with your ministrations, not wanting to look at her. It felt weird, really. You were with your Lady again but it did not feel right…

“So you’re back to disrespecting me? Were the letters and poems not enough of a mockery for you?” She averted her eyes but you could see that the expression of hurt was back. Your heart clenched with pain seeing her in such emotional distress.

“It was never my intention to mock you, my Lady.” You state quietly, watching her reaction carefully. There was a soft flicker of something unfamiliar on her face. Only for a split second, then it was gone again.

“Then what was your intention?” Jane looked at you again with a dangerous stare. Would you dare tell her? Before you could answer she continued, “I do not know how or when you discovered my affection for the fairer sex but by god, I know you were planning on using it against me. So what was your intention?”

Wait.. what? You stopped your movements and looked at her in disbelief. She just rolled her eyes at your reaction and huffed impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. It took a second or two for you to collect your thoughts again before you spoke, carefully.

“My Lady… My intentions were nothing but pure.” You start carefully, watching her as her icy blue orbs shoot to look at you. There it was again. That flicker you’ve seen before.

“I can assure you that all of the things I have written are true. I know it is frowned upon but who am I to deny my heart the freedom to feel, to long for.” You gently put the brush down and move to Jane’s side, kneeling on the ground in front of her and looking up at her. Jane’s body has visibly relaxed but her facial expression was unreadable.

“It might not be right, not only because we are women but because I am just a simple maid and you are my Lady… but I simply cannot deny the feelings I have developed for you…”

“You’re… Are you true, y/n?” Jane asked quietly, almost in a whisper. It was obvious to you that she tried to look unbothered but yet she has never seemed so small and fragile as she has in this very moment and you wanted nothing more but to hold her hands, reassuring her of your feelings. Still, you decided to keep your distance, giving her only a curt nod as an answer.

“But… I have been nothing but vicious to you… how,” she looked down into your eyes, hers shining with uncertainty and guilt.

“So you have… But I have also seen you at your most relaxed state, right here braiding your hair, and I felt you were not as cruel as you portray yourself to be. My Lady… It was never my intention to cause you pain or disrespect you, I simply didn’t know where to go with my feelings. I wrote them down because I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same and-” Soft lips suddenly pressed against yours, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. A hand gently placed on your cheek pulled you closer and instinctively your eyes closed shut. To say that she took you by surprise was an understatement. You carefully moved your hand to find her other and squeezed it lightly. An affirmation for the both of you. This caused Jane to deepen the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a heated frenzy of desire which you reciprocated gladly. You knelt there, basking in the affection she was willing to give to you and taking everything in before she evidently changed her mind.

When air became necessary you pulled away, looking up at Jane with a longing gleam in your eyes and heated red cheeks. She looked down at you, her face just as drunk with desire as yours. Chewing on her lower lip, she thought for a second then pulled you up with her. You followed her to her bed like a lovesick puppy, holding her hand tightly in yours, not willing to let go. The desire has spread south and you could feel the well-known warm sensation in your abdomen growing more and more. Jane turned around and looked at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or disgust but all she saw was you smiling up at her with the sweetest expression she has ever seen. Pure adoration. So there was actually someone who could adore her?

“Is this alright?” She asked as she pulled you closer, still a bit uncertain. Your heart almost burst out of your chest at the gentle nature of the Iron Lady.

“More than alright my La-”

“Jane. Please call me Jane.” She interrupted and your smile grew even more. She couldn't believe how you could look at her like that when she has never said a kind word to you in all the months you have worked for her. Jane wanted to make it right, treat you right and give you the affection she knew you deserved and craved and she was more than willing to give it to you.

“Okay… Jane.” Her name has never sounded so good before and Jane wanted to know in how many other ways her name could leave your lips. She sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled you in, to sit on her lap. You did so without hesitation and moved to cup her cheeks, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. A reassuring tenderness she has never received from anyone before. Jane inhaled deeply at the gentle gesture and moved to hold onto your waist, pulling you into her. She needed you impossibly close. The first few kisses were soft and timid but they soon turned heated. Jane squeezed your waist which caused you to open your mouth in a silent inhale, allowing her to explore your mouth with her tongue. You battled with her for dominance but evidently gave up and let her take control, the thing she does best. Her hands started roaming your body, moving from your waist to your hips and your thighs. Your head was swimming in pure bliss.

A quiet noise escaped your lips as Jane moved her lips to your neck, attacking it with hot open-mouthed kisses and nips. Your hands instinctively shot into her hair, holding close onto her as she assaulted your soft skin with her delicate lips. You couldn’t take it anymore. The aching between your legs has gotten uncomfortably strong and you squirmed against her lap. Jane noticed and gently slid her hands under your dress, running her fingertips over your warm skin, whilst her kisses moved to your ear, gently nibbling on your earlobe.

“Jane… please,” You whimpered out pathetically for the stoic woman beneath you.

“What do you want me to do, my dove?” Jane husked in your ear and smirked as you responded with a strangled groan. She loved how you reacted to her touch, how you reacted to her words. Never would she have thought that she could have precious little you on her lap like this, pudding in her hands.

“N-need you… please,” You breathed out frustratedly, moving your hips towards hers instinctively. You needed her hands on you, all over you, needed her to relieve that ache between your legs. Jane chuckled and removed her hands from your legs, causing you to pout.

“Don’t get impatient, darling.” She smirked and moved to remove your apron and then started unbuttoning your uniform. You took this as a sign to unlace her nightgown, pushing it down her shoulders. Although you have seen Jane's bare chest before when you had helped her dress for the day or undress for bed, this was something completely different. Your eyes were trained on her soft ivory breasts as she finished unbuttoning your garments. She expertly pulled your uniform over your head and tossed it to the side, leaving you in your undergarments. Being way too impatient, you pull the fabric off of your head yourself. Jane smirked at how desperate you were and instantly started roaming your figure again with her hands. Her soft fingertips discover every dip and curve of your body, sending goosebumps over your skin.

“You are so beautiful.” Jane said with bated breath, immediately attaching her lips to one of your nipples. You inhaled sharply as she ran her tongue over the hardened bundle and then sucked it into her mouth again, releasing it with a plop. Without wasting a second, she gave the same attention to the other breast before sitting up straight again.

“Lie down.” She ordered, moving you off her lap. She stood up and watched you lie on her bed, her nightgown now pooling around her ankles, she stepped out of it and climbed in bed with you. Jane lay close to you and pulled you in for a kiss as her hands started roaming your body again, your own hands finding purpose in exploring hers.

You broke the kiss, gasping as you felt Jane run her finger through your soaked folds.

“My, my. Is all of this for me, darling?” She husked and watched your reaction closely, spreading the wetness around, focusing tiny circles on your very sensitive clit. You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply then let out a desperate whimper. Jane was mesmerised by the way your body reacted to her and it aroused her greatly. She teased your clit for a little while longer, watching you writhe and squirm under her. The little noises and pleas coming from your lips and the way you called out her name filled her with pride. It was addicting how she had barely touched you and you were already reacting so much to her.

“J- Jane please… please I need you- ah,” You bucked your hips against her in hopes of more friction. You were so desperate for relief and just wanted her to claim you as hers and who was Jane to refuse? She leaned in, capturing your lips with hers to silence your moan as she slowly pushed a digit into your aching hole. She managed to slip her finger in with ease and started moving it slowly. The feeling of her finger in you was enough to send your head spiralling. You moaned into her mouth and wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer, causing her nude body to almost fully lay on top of you. The sensation of skin on skin had both of you shivering with arousal. She sped up her movements, as soon as she felt that you were ready and pulled away from the kiss, looking down at you lovingly.

“Darling I need you to be as quiet as you possibly can now… Do you think you can manage?” She asked, panting lightly. Her own arousal had started trickling down her thighs. You nodded and opened your mouth in a silent moan as she curled her finger into your sweet spot. Jane smiled and moved to kiss and suckle on your breasts again. The sensation of her finger moving in and out of you and her lips and tongue exploring your chest and stomach made you feel dizzy. She moved her kisses and kitten licks all the way down your body, never halting her movement with her hand until she was positioned between your legs.

Looking up at you, she placed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your thigh, right next to your hot and wet core. Your back arched off the bed and you gripped the sheets, holding your breath before exhaling strongly. Jane moved her kisses closer to your centre, removing her finger and before you could protest she ran her tongue over the length of your folds, collecting the wetness which seeped from you.

She enclosed your clit with her lips and sucked lightly, having you bite your hand gently and groan so you wouldn’t make too much noise. She continued giving attention to your clit with her mouth, slipping two digits into your hole again to curl them upwards. Jane sped up her movements and you felt a knot build in your core. Staying quiet was getting more and more difficult as the tension grew stronger. Jane noticed your struggle to stay quiet. She felt your walls clench around her fingers and knew you were close. Her movements didn't stop, but she pulled away from your clit, reattaching her lips with yours to swallow the sweet noises you made for her.

“That’s it, my girl. You’re doing so well for me! Let go!” She panted against your lips, her praise sending you over the edge with her name on your lips. Jane helped you ride out your orgasm before pulling her fingers out and holding them to your lips. You understood immediately and licked her fingers clean, groaning at your taste on them. Jane watched you intently, pulling her fingers away when the aching between her legs got too much, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She needed you. Jane straddled you, enclosing your head with her toned and strong legs, holding onto the headboard for support. Your mouth watered, seeing her glistening core in front of you. As the scent of her arousal filled your nose, you couldn’t help but whimper in anticipation.

“Be a good girl and make me feel good too, will you?” She said breathlessly, and gently lowered herself to your mouth. You wasted no time, running your tongue through her folds, collecting her desire. Her taste was addicting, and you wrapped your arms around her thighs, pulling her down more. Immediately you went to work on her clit, giving it kitten licks and sucking it gently, causing Jane to throw her head back and let out a guttural groan.

Your hands moved upwards, feeling her warm skin, massaging her soft breasts, and teasing her nipples. Meanwhile, your ministrations on her clit never wavered, causing Jane to roll her hips down onto your tongue. You groaned into her core, letting her ride herself on your tongue however she desired. The sounds coming from her were a mix of obscenities and praises of your name, which sent your head reeling. Shortly, Jane’s legs started shaking, and you moved your hands to support her, holding her in place for you to continue your feasting on her. She was close, and you could hear it. You collected all of your remaining energy to focus on her clit, licking and nibbling. Sucking on it hard one last time caused Jane to come undone on top of you, clasping her thighs around your head, trapping you momentarily as you helped her ride out her orgasm on your face. She released you from her grip and collapsed next to you on the bed, panting heavily.

“You’re aethereal when you come undone like that.” You pant gently and smile brightly when you catch her blush. Jane moved her head to look at you, an affectionate smile spread on her lips as she extended her arms for you. Gratefully you snuggled into her embrace and held her close, resting your head on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, gradually calming down. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes before you turned your head to look up at her.

“We should probably get dressed again before anyone notices.” She looked down at you, playing with a few loose strands of your hair. You didn’t want to get up, but you knew it was dangerous to stay here for too long.

“We should… but I don't want to.” She smiled and pressed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Let's just stay like this for a little longer. I don’t want to let go of you just yet.” Jane smiled and nuzzled her nose into the crown of your head. You were more than content with that decision.

You wanted to tell her you loved her, and let her know how much she meant to you but… this could wait. Most important was that you could enjoy the closeness and calm with Jane, bask in each other's presence, exchange kisses, and whisper sweet nothings to each other until the two of you fell asleep eventually.

-----

Tags: @weemssapphic @pro-weems-places @winterfireblond

#ao3 #reader insert #jane murdstone #gwendoline christie #jane murdstone x fem!reader #fanfic #gwendoline christie fanfics #wlw #queer #sapphic

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fortheloveoffanfic · 7 days

Text

Broken Chords: See how it shines

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this is late cause I spaced on making a mood board.

Summary: 6 weeks after they last saw each other, Andrew can’t seem to get past his and Y/n’s last exchange in New York. In a last-ditch effort to save their relationship, Andrew makes a long distance call from Paris.

Warnings: just angst.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The first moments after she walks out of the dressing room feels like hell. But then Andrew reminds himself that hell was when she’d left him the first time, so this must be something worse. This sharp ache in his chest, the rawness in his throat, the heat on his skin and the blur of his vision must be worse. When Y/n had left the first time – if one could really call it that since they’ve never officially lived together – it had come as a shock to him. He hadn’t expected it, and there was a period of disbelief before reality had set in.

But this time is different; this time, the image of her looking up at him with glassy eyes is scored into his mind, and he keeps seeing her walking out of the dressing room every time he shuts his eyes. Its all still fresh and often, when he thinks about it, a sense of panic rises up in his chest. She’s gone, its over; he recognizes the fact immediately. There’s no tricking himself into thinking that Y/n will come back because she’ll want the copy of Anna Karenina she left on his bookshelf. There are no parts of her in that sterile room, the warmth of her fingers have faded from his and the gentle way her perfume has stained the air is gone.

The room smells cold, in a way that almost burns his nose – or maybe it's the struggle to not sob that causes the uncomfortable sensation.

And even after the moment is gone, another memory occupied by a person he doesn’t quite recognize, Andrew can’t shake the question she’d asked him;

“What more did you need to see?”

What more does he need to see? What was he looking for that Y/n didn’t give him?

Nothing.

The answer hasn’t changed since he first thought it over. Every night, swallowed by pitch darkness, Andrew stares up at nothing, unable to keep his eyes shut for longer than a couple seconds while the moment plays on a repeat in his mind. It's like a scene from a movie he’s seen a million times but he can never remember the names of the actors. Awfully familiar, just not familiar enough.

What more does he need to see?

Laying in a hotel room in Paris, Andrew repeatedly asks himself the question. And he keeps coming up with the same answer; nothing. Everything Y/n is has always been more than he could ever imagine needing. She’s been at his side through the best of things, and offered him solace when he’s at his worst. So many of his secrets are now hers too.

God, his parents adore her. Jon says she’s the sister he never had. How many people get that lucky?

How many people don’t realize that they are that lucky because they’re too busy shielding themselves from a blow that just isn’t gonna come?

Sitting up and slumping against the cool, wooden headboard, he scrubs his hand over his face and then threads his fingers through his messy curls. It's three am, he’s jetlagged and its obvious sleep isn’t in his immediate future. And all he can think about is how far down a precipice he’s sent the best relationship he’s ever had.

He should tell her he's sorry.

In fact, not should; he must tell her. Right now. Before another hour passes without her knowing that he is so incredibly sorry and remorseful that its keeping him awake. That even if she doesn’t take him back – because she probably will not – he knows she deserves better and that he’s willing to work on being better because she’s worth that and an eternity’s more.

He doesn’t care that its three am in Paris or twelve am in Los Angeles. She needs to know; a little piece of his sanity ebbs away for every second that she doesn't.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table. It doesn’t take too much effort to find it, and Andrew doesn’t even need to turn on the lamp because the hotel they’ve chosen is in the thick of the city, and his room overlooks the sleepless stretch that bounds towards the Eiffel tower. Yellow lights from the surrounding buildings, blurred by the sheer curtains that guard the double doors that lead to the small balcony, washes his room in a pale, golden hue.

She’d love this was, uncoincidentally, his first thought when he’d first noticed. He doesn’t know why, but when he thought it, Andrew had tried to take a picture of the room, it's not like he’ll ever get to show her. But his phone couldn’t seem to capture the lighting right, and he gave up.

Unlocking the screen, Andrew pulls up her number and allows himself another moment of contemplation. He isn’t even sure that she’ll answer – he doesn’t have any right to the comfort of her voice, much less her forgiveness. But he owes himself the possibility, right?

Maybe not.

But he's already hit call, so it doesn’t even matter anymore.

It rings three times. Three seconds. He holds his breath and his heart is racing. The familiar sound is weighed down by the chance of making it to her voicemail recording. Andrew quickly determines that if it gets there, he’s going to hang up before the message starts, because he doesn’t want to hear her cheery voice relaying that awfully generic message.

“Hey, its Y/n. Leave a message!”

No. He won’t leave a message because what he has to say can not be articulated in three minutes.

Four rings.

“Hello?” When he hears her breathy greeting coming through the line, Andrew involuntarily sucks in a sharp breath.

“Ehm…..” How is he even supposed to start this thing? Perhaps he would have been much better off getting on a plane and flying to L.A, because at least then his greeting wouldn’t be reduced to a measly; “hey, its me.”

On her end, he can hear music playing, it isn't loud and he guesses that she’s put some distance between herself and its source. “I know,” Y/n returns after a handful of tense seconds, “I saw your name on the…..”

“Right, right.” He lapses into silence as he gathers what he wants to say. He’s sorry, he wants to be better, if she’ll give him one more chance he knows he can change. Right, that's a perfectly logical order for things.

Except, the nerves seize him and the minute he opens his mouth, he fumbles. “I want to change. I need to change.”

He needs some fresh air too because suddenly, the room feels suffocating.

“What?” Andrew can hear her confusion as he swings his legs out of bed, planting his feet on the carpeted floor, padding over to the double French doors, easing one side open. A rush of temperate, autumn air nips at his face as Andrew is met with the city in all of its beauty. The dazzling tower off in the distance, the twinkle of hotels, restaurants and apartments spread out before him, turning the sky inky.

It isn’t like this in Wicklow; here, even the night is racked with the buzz of life. Y/n, his city girl, would fit right in.

He’ll never forget how in awe she was when she spent her first night in Wicklow; the amount of stars in the sky, the soft, barely-there, hum of wildlife at the back of his house, the slosh of waves in the distance, far enough to not elicit the sort of anxiety that the ocean does, close enough to lull you to sleep with the rhythmic ‘swish’ as it slops against the rocky shore. She said she hadn't thought that a place could be so quiet. Quiet enough to make you really have to pay attention to your thoughts.

So quiet that you hear your partner's breathing settle in time with yours.

So quiet that you can't help but notice when they're not there anymore, and the loneliness quickly becomes maddening, so you start leaving the television on at night.

“I said I need to change,” he finally repeats, “I…..you asked what more I needed to see.” When he notes a bout of loud laughter in the background, he quickly realizes that she’s probably out with some friends. Maybe colleagues. Maybe someone new that she’s seeing.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks, hoping she’ll permit him to continue.

The sounds backing her voice become a bit more distant as she says dismissively, “nothing important. Andy,” she sighs heavily and his heart quickens when she calls him that. So many people call him that – family, close friends, even some of his neighbors – but it sounds different when she does it. His logical mind begs that it's simply her accent, but it must be more, he often thinks. It's the hitch in her breath when she starts that ‘ah’ sound. It's the way when she calls out to him, always gentle and soothing.

And tonight, it's the relief that comes with hearing it after he thought he'd lost the pleasure forever.

“What's going on here?”

“I've been thinking,” licking his lips, he leans against the railing. He fixes his tired gaze on a building a block over. It isn’t particularly tall, it isn’t really anything special at all. The only reason he can see it is because there’s a street lamp right in front of it, offering it the most angelic glow. “You asked what more I needed to see before I could commit to you. And its nothing.”

“I don’t understand,” she sighs.

“I don’t have to see, or know or learn anything else for me to realize that I need you in my life,” he swallows thickly, “I want to be better, give you…..commitment. And I’m so sorry didn’t realize it before, I should've – you gave me so much and I just…..I couldn’t even call you my girlfriend,” he pauses; he really needs to steel himself if he’s going to ask for another chance after ripping up her heart, “I know I don’t deserve it, I don’t even have the right to ask, but…..if you could ever bring yourself to give me another chance, things would be different.”

Y/n is quiet for a while, so long that Andrew has to check his phone to make sure they haven’t been disconnected – or she hasn’t hung up on him. Eventually, she sighs heavily and he straightens his back; he’s waiting for the crush that comes when she says it doesn’t matter. He’s already set himself up for the moment where she condemns him to hell.

But it doesn’t come.

“I don’t wanna talk about this over the phone,” Y/n says softly, and then there’s another bout of silence, “you’re in Paris, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“And then where?”

“Italy.”

Again, there’s nothing for a minute. “Right,” she hums. He swears he can see her, thinking on whatever’s going through her mind, tongue darting out briefly to lick her lips, brows furrowed and head bent slightly. He loves the way she looks when she does that, even if she’s just trying to remember where she left her phone Y/n adopts this very pensive expression, that makes it seem like she’s got the world on her mind. “What're you doing after that?”

“I’ll be home for a while,” he swears he’s told her all of this before, when they’d collided in Los Angeles, for dinner at her hotel and a romp before he was off again, but she must've forgotten. Or she’s using menail chatter to fill the time it takes to decide if she really should meet with him.

“I’ll be in Paris by the end of next week…..for this thing,” she says with such nonchalance that one would never guess that she’s actually referring to a career altering event. “But you’ll be….in Ireland, by then right?”

“Right,” he confirms.

Andrew’s heart leaps into his throat; he didn’t expect that. Not that he’s complaining – it isn’t in his make-up to be able to resist a chance to see her. If she’s offering, then he will oblige. “I’d love that,” his words are all too hasty, yet he can’t even bring himself to quell the eagerness. “Ehm, if you send me your flight details, I'll pick you up at the airport.”

“What if I…..visited? My thing will only a few days, and I'll have some free time after."

“Okay,” she offers meekly.

“Okay,” he mirrors, “we can-” but before he can suggest that they keep in contact during the week, the line clicks dead. Blowing a breath from the ‘o’ of his lips, Andrew shudders and slumps his weight against the wrought iron railing guarding the left side of the little, rectangular space. Holding the phone at his side, he keeps his gaze trained towards the glittering city.

His city girl, he breaks into a faint, wistful smile at the thought of her and its the first time in six damn weeks that the idea of Y/n hasn’t made his eyes prickle or his throat feel tight. The memory of her walking out of the door is slowly being replaced by the image of her with yellow flecks reflected in her eyes, dancing in them like embers on a campfire. Y/n is beside him, her bare shoulder brushing his sleeve and while she stands in awe of the city, seemingly shrunken below them, Andrew is looking at her. She’s wearing green again, a silk, sort of Grecian style dress and there’s something about her slightly agape lips, and the shadows that the combination of low lighting and her long lashes cast on her cheek bones, that makes him gasp quietly;

He swears he’s never seen anyone so beautiful.

Thinking back on it, he must’ve fallen for her that night – the night they met. He hasn’t stopped since then.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfic #fanfic #broken chords

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alecvolturiswifeforever · 11 months

Text

all too well 𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫ felix volturi x reader

warnings: angst? fluffff ( tbh i was listening to taylor swift while writing this hence the name)

Pulling back the old curtains of your childhood home the familiar image of the Swan house came into view and the muscles of your jaw tensed on their own accord. Wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and pulling your wool hat over your ears you stepped out of the front door, onto the porch. You were weary, well aware of the fact that if was snowing and there was more than likely ice waiting to send you sliding down the concrete stairs.

You lived in the house on the opposite side of the street. Both you and Bella had grown up together, practically conjoined from the moment she arrived back in Forks every time she would visit her father right up until the moments she had to leave.

That was until she left when she you were around thirteen, confessing to you that she wouldn’t be coming back to visit again anytime soon. You remembered the moment all too well, as if it was yesterday, the memory replaying in the forefront of your mind.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You both let out rather loud giggles as you lay together upon your bed, flipping through old magazines you had stolen from your mother and gossiping like the preteen girls you were.

“Oh! I should get going… dad said I have to be home by six today! Early flight and all tomorrow” Bella rolled her eyes as she spoke and another giggle elicited from you as you sat up.

“How long are you going for this time?” You had questioned innocently and the atmosphere immediately changed as your room was suddenly full of an uncomfortable stuffiness. That was when she confessed.

“Um.. I don’t… I’m not really planning on coming back anytime soon…”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“Mom said that we’re moving again… but it’s going to be more permanent this time and I just… I don’t really like coming here that much anyway…”

“Oh…”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You recalled the tight feeling in your throat and the burn of tears behind your eyes. Yes you lived in the small town for your entire life but you had never really had many friends, none with the bond you had shared with the Swan girl and you definitely did not want to be friends with people like Jessica Stanley.

When Bella had moved back it was almost relieving and you both fell back into your old ways quickly. Staying at each others houses late, gossiping, sharing books and little trinkets.

That was until he came into the picture.

If you knew one thing it was that you absolutely despised Edward Cullen. Especially for taking your best friend away again just to leave her. Alone. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of September. What a jerk.

You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of voices, averting your eyes as you saw both Bella and her devil spawn step out of the house. Your lips parted as you made eye contact, and she threw you a glare turning to face Edward.

“Y/N, are you coming or not?” You heard the voice of your father yell from the car and you sighed before pulling the door shut and locking it.

“Coming!”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“Bella please!”

You heard the yell from your spot on your couch and you rushed outside to see the commotion. Crossing the road and eyeing the sharp look of Alice.

“Bella is convinced she is going to Italy to save her leech..” Jacob hissed.

“Leech?” You whispered in confusion before shaking your head “Bella you cant just leave and go to Italy right now, what about your dad?”

“I’m 18. It’s legal.” She rolled her eyes and you huffed. Why did she always have to be so stubborn?

“Well then i’m coming with you.” You had reached for the handle to the backseat of the car and slid in. That was when Alice paused, Bella throwing a worried look in her direction. After a moment of silence she spoke up.

“Y/N I can’t let you come”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… safe for you.”

“Well either i’m going or both me and Bella or staying… and by the looks of it she’s not willing to get out of the car” You turned and strapped yourself in and Alice huffed under her breath before muttering a sharp ‘have it your way’ and speeding off.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

The rest was quite blurry for you, only remembering certain snippets of their explanations on the plane ride there. You were informed about the existence of vampires, how Bella and Edward were mated, Alice’s vision… all that boring stuff. You remembered one moment very well though.

The moment you made eye contact with him. The way his eyes softened as he took you in. The feel of his hand lightly brushing your back as you stood in the elevator.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“Interesting” You heard the raven haired king hum, dropping your hand as he turned to look at the giant, seeking for his hand. He let out a loud laugh as you flinched back only to find Edward had pulled Bella back a few feet. You turned to look at him, eyes darting between him and the smaller Cullen next to them.

“What’s going on?” Your voice was accusing as you eyed them before you turned back to the man in front of you who was still looking at Felix.

“My dear, you have finally found your mate”

You remember the flip of your stomach, heartbeat increasing. You turned a hateful gaze back to Alice.

“You knew…” You spoke carefully as you put the pieces together. Your voice raised as she shook her head.

“You knew and you tried to stop me from coming!”

“Y/N…”

You only glared at her as the blonde king quickly moved back to the situation at hand.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

They had granted you all until graduation, Felix would visit you frequently while you continued the rest of your education and Edward had until then to turn his mate. The journey home was awkward to say the least. You and Alice had argued back and fourth in the reception once Demetri had guided you out of the throne room and after that they refused to acknowledge you. You rolled your eyes at the memory - the audacity of them to think it was you who was in the wrong, as if any of this was your fault.

They were furious that you had allowed him to speak to you, let alone touch you.

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

“What do you want?” you heard Edwards menacing hiss as the vampire came into frame, lifting your head from where you had buried them into your knees to see what was happening.

“I’m here to speak to my mate. You will do well to back off before I put you through the wall again.”

You hoped his eyes wouldn’t fall onto you however the hope was quickly crushed as his gaze moved right to you, holding a large hand out to you.

“May I take a moment of your time?”

You sighed, half tempted to look to the others for guidance however you stopped yourself when you remembered they now wanted nothing to do with you. So you took his hand, uncurling yourself from the position you was in and allowed him to guide you out into a seemingly abandoned hallway.

“I apologise for the… violence… you had to witness, I did not intend for it to startle you.” Clearly he had heard the way your breathing had shallowed and your heartbeat increase then.

“It’s.. it’s fine” You struggled to find the right words to speak to the stranger in front of you and you shifted your weight from one foot to another awkwardly.

“You are so much more beautiful than I had imagined” You were convinced you weren’t meant to hear that, tilting your head to look up at him. You took in his face, the bright red of his eyes, the way his hair fell softly over his forehead and you couldn’t help but feel entranced. His hand lifted as if on it’s own accord and he searched your eyes carefully.

“May I?” His voice was deep as he spoke and you gave him a weary nod, jolting at the current that ran through your body as his cold hand made contact with your cheek, running his thumb across your cheekbone. You let out a breathe you had no idea you were holding and melted into him as he pulled you into him.

“I have finally found you.”

𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫

You smiled at the memory, watching the scenery blur by the window of the car. For once you felt at ease, as if everything was perfect.

That was how you knew, you were exactly where you needed to be. You knew it all too well.

#felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi fics #volturi #volturi imagines #the twilight saga #demetri volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi

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am-i-interrupting · 6 months

Note

Okay I don’t know if you are accepting requests or suggestions but can I ask for a one shot or something of like what happens between Vox and reader from the one author, two host series when alastor returns. Like what would happen and I feel like Vox would be FOMING at the mouth from anger because he knows how much pain it caused reader and all doesn’t even tell them where he was

Went Away | OATSH

Vox had long since regretted saving Valentino’s pathetic little soul. He could have and should have found someone else to be the head of the porn industry. Unfortunately, with the deal they’d made, Vox couldn’t harm the man unless he broke the confines of their contract. Valentino toed the line, most certainly, but he hadn’t yet broken it.

Velvette was complaining about one of her models being scared shitless by Valentino and having some of her work torn up but no harm had actually come to any of them. That was always the thing, always the line he just barely stayed in.

He couldn’t hurt anyone without justifiable cause. That is what was in his contract. He could scare, he could manipulate, he could yell, but he couldn’t hurt.

Vox walked into Valentino’s office.

“Fucking finally!” the man yelled. “Kitty, another drink! Can you believe what that piece of shit did?! The ungrateful whore!”

Vox side stepped the glass that had been thrown his way. “Which whore are we talking about this time?”

“Fucking Angel Dust, who the hell else would I be talking about?”

Vox leaned away from Valentino as the man breached his space. Many answers to that question raced into his mind. Too many sex workers, too many models, too many people on the street, himself, once you. Only once had Valentino called you a whore. Never again.

“That fucking slut walked out on me. Me. I made him! Without me he’s just a bag of meat with some mildly entertaining holes.”

Vox had gotten out his phone while Valentino went on his rampage. He felt himself relax just a bit, a small smile coming to his lips as he saw a message from you.

Sorry about leaving early this morning. Star called. Stuff came up. Fixing some roofing. Hate this time of year.

His soft smile though changed from soft to hopeful.

“Angel Dust quit?” he asked.

He was hoping for a yes. You’d be so ecstatic if he finally was able to quit. That was another reason for him to hate the fact that he saved Valentino; the fact that Valentino had a contract neither of you knew about beforehand and under Angel’s contract, he could do whatever he wanted and it would be seen as justifiable.

“No, he didn’t fucking quit. It’s worse.” Valentino grabbed Vox’s phone from his hand and threw it against the wall. “He moved!”

Vox hadn’t even been able to text you back.

“He thinks he can just walk in here, work, and then go home somewhere else? Can you fucking believe that? He thinks he can just run off and shack up with Lucifer’s bimbo daughter.”

“Angel is living with Lucifer’s daughter now?”

You’d be happy to know about that at least.

“Yeah, that bitch. Chalky or Chandler or something manish like that,” he said as he opened up his closet. “She’s got this hotel and— which of these makes me look sexier?”

Anyone else. He would have let the man go in a rampage, break their contract, and discard him if it was anyone but her. Had it been anyone else other than Lucifer’s daughter, Vox would have let him.

“What are you doing, Val?” he asked, venom entering his voice before his eye began to spiral. “You’re not going over there.”

“That slippery twink is going to remember who owns him. I’m going to fuck everyone in that rancid hotel, I swear to god,” Valentino continued, ignoring him.

Vox scowled to himself before he grabbed Valentino’s wings and pulled him close, his face brightening so the man could actually see him.

“Val!” He laughed before he smoothed his wings back into their coat-like shape. “Think about it. My brand is perfection. What do you think chasing whores around town would do for my image?” He grabbed the gun from Valentino’s hand.

“Uh, fuck it up?”

Vox played a game show ringing as he said, “Right! Do you want people thinking I can’t control my employees and that you can’t control yours?”

“No.”

“Exactly! And, hey—“ Vox knew you would hate what he said next— “you still have him under contract. He’s not going anywhere. So, you should. . .?”

“Do nothing?”

“Great idea!” Vox pulled Valentino down into to put his arm around his shoulders as more game show sound effects played. “Now that’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“But I really wanted to shoot someone,” Valentino said as he pulled out his cigarette. “You never let me have any fun anymore.”

Vox lit the cigarette with the tip of his claw. “Well, let me pull out my wife’s hit list. Let you have a go at some of them, hmm?”

“Aw,” Valentino said with a chuckle, “you know me too well.”

Of course Vox did. He had to. The man was practically a child most days. He constantly questioned how he could have been so stupid as to have let him live. Regardless, it was a choice he now had to live his second life with.

He twisted his wedding ring with his thumb as he summoned a new phone.

Don’t worry about it. Turf wars are always a hassle. I get it and know by now you’re always busy this time of year. We all are. When you get a sec, can you send me some people on your list? Valentino’s being a piss baby again, as Vel so eloquently put it.

“You know, Angel isn’t the only one spending time at this ratty hotel with the devil’s princesa,” Valentino said after taking a draw of his cigarette.

When is he not?

“Oh, who else is there?” Vox asked as he opened the document you’d sent him. “Someone who owes you money?”

Valentino laughed once again. “Someone who owes us much more than money. The Radio Demon is there.”

Vox collapsed on himself as he tensed. His claws dug through the metal of the desk, breaking his phone as he did so. His entire body sparked with electricity.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice coming out distorted as he turned to Valentino, his eye spiraling as red pixels began spilling from his mouth.

“You heard me.”

Oh, he was going to kill Valentino, contract be damned.

“Alastor, my wife’s father—“ he glitched— “is back and he is with Lucifer’s daughter instead of his own—“ he glitched again— “and that wasn’t the first fucking thing you told me?!” he pulled Valentino down to his height as sparks flew off his body and his voice raised to a yell.

“Hey, Alastor missing is your problem,” Valentino said as he walked to the computer desk and pressed a button.

A distorted feed came up on the screen. Vox immediately teleported to the desk, leaning as close as he could to make out every detail of the scene.

He could make out the blonde hair of Lucifer’s daughter, the white fur of Angel Dust, and the extra distorted figure that Vox knew from previous videotapes to be Alastor.

He snarled, a full growl come from his mouth. His claws dug all the way through the desk. His breathing started to quicken.

Vaguely, in his subconscious mind, he registered an anger at a different thing. Alastor was torturing someone and he hadn’t told you? He hadn’t invited you? He always had before.

He didn’t even register Valentino’s words. He didn’t find any amusement in the squeaks that came from the man like he normally would. All he could focus on was Alastor walking away from the hotel.

“Vox? Vox!” Valentino called out, finally breaking him from his trance.

“That fucker is back!”

“Yeah, I thought he was gone for good tooAfter seven years!”

“You still pissed he almost beat you that time?” Valentino grabbed the corner of Vox’s screen. Vox pushed him off, still sparking. “Ow!”

“Fuck off!”

Vox’s breath started coming out harshly as he began to spiral.

How was he going to tell you? How dare Alastor? Oh, sure, Vox was the problem. He was trying to steal you from Alastor when it was Alastor who left you for seven years without a word, not even telling you goodbye or where he was going or when he came back.

He hadn’t been there. Did he not know what pain he caused you? The worry, the tears, the depression. You had been a mess those first couple months. Did he not think you would be effected by his sudden disappearance? Was he really, truly that stupid?

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re really this peeved?” Valentino said.

Vox ignored him as he walked out of the room to his own office.

Valentino pouted as he watched the door close. Then he went to pick up Vox’s phone to look at that list only to see the screen cracked and back scratched.

“Fuuuck!” he said as he threw his head back. He picked up his gun that had been left behind as well and shot a hole through the wall.

Vox pulled up your vitals on his screen. You knew he had them. He monitored them as well as your location through the ring on your finger and you had access to his own through the same.

There was a stark difference in how often the two of you looked at them though. Yours got pulled up multiple times a day while his only got pulled up a few times every couple months.

That was alright though. You knew he could be possessive but more than that, you knew how often he worried.

He quickly found and quickly sent a dispatch of construction workers that way before he went there himself.

You didn’t even flinch when he knelt behind you and draped himself over his back. After so many decades, it’d become second nature to know when the other was around. What did concern you was how tightly he held you.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice ever so slightly distorted with some filter. “Alone.”

You turned, unafraid of falling off the roof in his grasp. You held his screen between your hands. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t even have time to blink before you were in the tower with him.

“You said that Hustler came to see you the other day, right?”

“Husk, but yes,” you said. “Is everything okay? Is he alright?”

“Did you ask him why?” Vox asked.

“I— Yes, it was that advertisement. I didn’t have time to look it over. I just gave it to your assistant,” you told him. “He didn’t give me porn or something, did he? That doesn’t sound like him but he said he lost a game, had to be the one to bring it to me.”

“So you didn’t watch the commercial? Neither did I. How about we watch it together, hm?”

“Okay,” you said, the word coming out slowly, hesitantly.

You didn’t sit as he didn’t either. The television just came on.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a woman you vaguely recognized said.

She had white hair done in Hollywood waves that contrasted her grey skin. She wore dress that was somewhat reminiscent of a 50s dress and a large hat with floral elements. Across thAngel Dust in a pink and white suit, wearing pink gloves that he used to blow a kiss to the camera. In front of him was Niffty in a classic flapper dress. Then Husk drinking beside her.

None of that is what caught your attention however. What did was the distorted person beside Husk, back turned to the camera but you recognized him.

Immediately your eyes widened as your nose and eyes began to sting. You bit your lip to contain a scream as your breath began to quicken.

You had mourned him.

You mourned him! You’d done it once in life and now once in death and for what?! Why did you have to mourn him when he was right there?! He was there!

You took off your shoe and threw it at the television. Then did the same with the other. The screen broke, cracked. The TV fell to the floor.

“That bastard!” you yelled. “Fucking shit ass!”

You screamed so loud that is caused Vox to wince but still he wrapped his arms around you. You collapsed against him and banged on his chest. Not enough to hurt him but enough to get out your frustration. He just pulled you closer.

Vark stood in the doorway, looking at Vox. His tail was drooped and he was hunched down. Vox slowly lowered you both to the ground and gestured for Vark to come.

He did. He butted his head against your back. He kept his head against your skin as he moved between the two of you. On instinct, you put your hand between Vark’s eyes and Vox put his right at the base of his spines. Vark moved and licked your face. You didn’t smile like you normally would.

“What do you want me to do?” Vox asked.

You stayed silent for a moment, hand moving back and forth on Vox’s simultaneously rough and smooth skin. Then, “Make him wish he’d stayed gone.”

You stood and went to your wardrobe. Vox followed as you threw a more official outfit on the bed. Then you went to the bathroom and fixed your makeup or rather, tried to. Your hands shook to much for you to do it properly.

Vox picked up your phone and sent a message to Velvette.

Get your ass here now. -V

He didn’t know how to apply makeup but after years of living with two people who did, he at least learned how to take it off.

When Velvette arrived, it was no secret. “What the hell happened here? What the fuck’s going on?”

“The Radio Demon’s back,” Vox said.

“Oh, well, shit,” she said. “Alright then, move aside, Voxy. I’m gonna give our gal some revenge makeup and you go make a script for you stupid show.”

“Top of the hour,” Vox said as he spun in his chair to face the camera, “and we’re discussing a certain hazbin who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence. Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight’s program!”

The headline read, “Dud Dad Back From Getting Milk”

Across the screen, “So the radio guy’s back. I don’t think you noticed. I didn’t at first- I was too busy being present in my wife’s life but fuck it, news is slow today, I guess. I just want to go home to see my beautiful wife and tell her about where I’ve been even though she knows where I am because I tell her about my plans before fucking off.”

“Fucking hell!” Husk yelled, catching the attention of everyone in the hotel.

“Aw, after so many years I can still startle you? How cute,” you said as you leaned your head on your hand with a smirk that immediately made him uneasy.

You were wearing a black cropped turtle neck with a pair of slightly baggy jeans, an oversized jacket that clearly was not yours with its light and dark blue stripes and pinkish-red interior. Your legs were crossed and revealed your heeled black boots. Your hair was down in loose, natural curls but your makeup was anything but with a dark smokey eye and dark nude lipstick.

“Oh, he fucked up,” Husk said as he grabbed a bottle and moved out from behind the bar.

“Um, okay,” the princess said. “Hi, I’m Charlie and you are?”

“Not here for you,” you said as you moved to take Husk’s place behind the bar.

“And who are you here for?” Charlie asked.

The television flickering on gave you no reason to answer her. Instead you mixed a cocktail as all eyes turned to the TV screen.

“So, the Radio Demon is back in town,” Vox said on the screen. “Why’s he hanging around? What does that mean for your family? Well, handily I’ve got good news. The guy’s a loser, an absent and I don’t mean to sound arrogant but he’s a really shitty parent. That one’s real apparent.

“He used to go on and on about how I’d be the one gone yet he’s the one who said so long. I’m right here, never fear. I plan on staying even when raining. I’m not afraid of things changing. So if you can’t update, maybe relocate. Go on a va-cay and stay the fuck away.

“He clung onto radio, we pivoted to video. Now his medium has gotten bloody rare. We’ve been better since he split. Where’s he been? Who gives a shit!”

The radio crackled to life. “Salutations, good to be back on the air.”

You took a long sip of your cocktail as you heard his voice for the first time in seven years. The glass nearly cracked in your hands.

“Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with style has treated Hell to a broadcast. Sinners, rejoice!”

“What a dated voice.”

“Instead of a clout-chasin' mediocre video podcast.”

“Come on!”

“Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure. Going for small blows towards the pros, is it really working?”

“It’s better than your chirping!”

“Every day, he's got a new insult while still thinking everything wrong is his fault.”

“You’re looking at the one who stayed! He’s the one who went away!”

“Is Vox as strong as he purports or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without that pretty ring.”

“Oh, tell us a new thing!”

“Fine, let’s try something new. I know things you haven’t been through. Nothing you say has any sway. I’ve always been here, never on va-cay. I’m still in charge. Always been here on the charts. So if you’ve got something to say, go ahead then go away. I haven’t got all day.”

“You were gone far too long. She mourned and now she’s scorned. Wished you’d never been born. So why don’t you follow through with this amazing news and tell us what you’ve been through. Better hurry or just scurry ‘cause this picture’s getting blurry. Buffering from our furry. Go ahead and have your say or go away like seven years ago that day.”

The radio clicked off.

Vox stayed panting for a moment, hands gripping the desk tightly. Then his breathing slowed and he sat back down. He restacked his papers.

“Guess he didn’t have much to say so he’s gone and went away. Nothing new. It’s old news. He’s gone once again so soon.”

The television flickered off.

Husk sunk into the couch. Niffty looked over to you with her wide eye. Angel looked down at your ring and then back at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Charlie still stood where she’d been when she came to greet you but she now rung her fingers together.

“Well, I suppose not all broadcasts are a success,” Alastor’s voice said as he came downstairs. “Regardless,” he clapped his hands together then he saw you. “My dear! There you are.”

You simply glared at him as you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Where is that darling smile of yours? You know you’re—“

“Where did you go?”

“Oh, what does that matter? I’m back now, aren’t I?” he said.

“You’re such a,” your voice trailed off as you looked down at your drink. “I cried for you.”

You thought back to late nights as a child where your father held you, whispering about his childhood in the vaguest of ways, making promises to never do you the same way.

“You promised I’d never have to do that,” you said. “You promised me the only reason I’d ever cry for you would be when you died. You’re not dead.”

“You know that my intention would never be to—“

“That doesn’t matter, Alastor!” you said.

His ears actually flicked back. You’d never done that before. You had never called him by his name.

A small part of you as happy with getting a hurt reaction from him.

You threw the glass at him. He didn’t side step it. It hit his newly tailored coat, glass breaking and liquid staining it. He didn’t even flinch.

“Fuck you, Alastor! Fuck you,” you said as you walked out of the hotel, slamming the door.

“I appear to have done something wrong,” Alastor said as he brushed the glass off his clothing, holding back a wince as his hand moved some caught in his skin.

“You think?” Husk said.

Alastor stared at where you had been before he spun around and went back upstairs.

“I’ve never seen her that angry before,” Niffty said softly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #one author two show hosts

99 notes · View notes

miuszn · 1 year

Note

HII!! i love your writing sm, so i wanted to send in a request. I KNOW THIS IS SO CLICHÉ AND OVERDONE 😭😭 BUT could you possibly write a seven minutes in heaven scenario with ellie or abby. maybe reader n ellie/abby don’t really like each other, or they have tension ?? idk

seven minutes

SETTING : college / modern au

WC : 3120

WARNINGS : not beta read , fingering , cunnilingus ( r!recieving both ) , kinda vanilla again ( sorry ) , top!ellie , one-sided rivalry , intentional lowercase , this might kinda seem like dubcon but it’s not reader is just shy , english isn’t my first language and i’m not perfectly fluent so there might be mistakes ( lmk if there’s any )

A / N : hii everyone !! aaa im so glad i finally finished this 😭😭 i love these corny cliche scenarios soooo much but only when it’s w women otherwise it’s just so bleh . women do everything better so true !! anywhooo i hope u guys enjoy this and tysm for requesting this bc i wanted to write something like this but didnt think anyone would want it .. ALSO IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO INCLUDE ABBY WHEN I STARTED WRITING BC I SAVED THE ASK TO DRAFTS TO KEEP IT THERE N ONLY NOTICED NOW JFJDHDKDJ pls forgive me .. ill include ellie & abby tension over reader in the future i promise 🙏🙏

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

“dina, i’m not going.”

you had no idea how many times you told her this, but you weren’t planning on changing your mind. you had gone to a few parties here and there, sure, but it wasn’t really your thing. you enjoyed going to them every once in a while to go out and loosen up, get your mind off of stress, but that was it. you weren't particularly crazy about it at the same level of other people your age, not even as much as dina, who’s considered a more casual partygoer. you had given her some excuse about having a project to work on, but the truth was, that wasn’t your concern. in fact, you didn’t have a project to work on at all. you made it all up. you even considered going to that party when dina first told you about it, but a few days later you overheard some classmates talk about how ellie williams out of all people would be going.

ellie ellie ellie. she drive you nuts for all the wrong reasons. you could tell she disliked you from the start, which that in itself made you dislike her as well. you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to anger her. but your dislike for her only grew when you realized just how irresponsible she was. she slept in, often came hungover to class, and yet she still scored the highest. even higher than you. and that really set you off. you had been an overachiever all your life, and all of a sudden some loser who doesn’t even put any effort into anything is beating you at everything. but most of all, it intrigued you a little more than it did anger you. you wished you could take a peek into her brain and see how the hell she managed to do it. your first thought was she copied answers off of people. seemed the most logical, right? but she was scoring the highest. how the hell could she score higher than anyone that she could even copy off of? hell, she even answered open-ended questions more detailed and well-written than you did. it didn’t make any sense. that’s the worst part of it all. you couldn’t even come up with a logical explanation as to how she could even do this.

little did you know, though, she was completely aware of your one-sided rivalry, and she found it adorable. she never tried to compete with you, but she thought it was hilarious watching you try so hard to compete with her. the first time she saw you, she was immediately drawn to you. your spotless image, valedictorian from your high school who had a perfect gpa and perfect test scores. you were perfect. but she wanted to see you crack. she wanted to see what was under all those layers (both figuratively and literally) and see what you were truly like. she knew you seeing her put in no effort into school yet still doing better than you would anger you. that’s exactly what she wanted. sure, she was in a way getting you to hate her, but it was a risk she was willing to take just to get a reaction out of you. and little did you know, you were attracted to her. and she was aware.

“come on, i don’t know why you’re acting like this all of a sudden,” dina whined. “you said you’d come along when i first told you about it.”

“i said i’d think about it,” you corrected her. “i’m just not really feeling it. besides i already told you i have this project to work on.”

“what’s it for?”

“it’s, uh..” you tried to come up with a lie on the spot. “it’s for calculus.”

“no way, we have a project in that class?” she asked, surprised, “i can’t believe i had no idea! when is it due?”

shit. you forgot you had that class with her.

“it’s for tomorrow, i think..” you kept going along with your lie.

“bullshit,” she laughed, “if we really had a project due tomorrow you would already have it done. and there’s no way i’d miss a project for that class!”

“fine,” you sighed, “i just needed an excuse so you’d leave me alone. but i really don’t want to go.”

“nope, because you lied you have to come.”

“why?!”

“because it’s fair!” she said, “besides, you definitely owe me one for going to that stupid concert with you the other day.”

you rolled your eyes. “you said you enjoyed it.”

“yeah, well, i lied. do you seriously think i’d ever like-“

“alright that’s enough!” you sighed. “i’ll go. but we are leaving early that night”

“deal.”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

“dinaaa, hurry up!” you knocked on the bathroom door. the main downside of sharing an apartment with your best friend was the fact she took forever to get out of the bathroom. you both decided it would be a good idea, you found a nice complex near campus and the rent was almost the same as a dorm room, so it was a no-brainer.

“five minutes!” she yelled back. five minutes my ass, you thought. at least this time you thought ahead of time and got in there before her. your outfit wasn’t anything fancy, of course, but you still wanted to dress cute. you had a black tube mini-skirt and white baby tee, just something you threw on that was comfortable but still looked alright. you had struggled a little to decide what to wear, you didn’t want to stand out too much but you still for some reason wanted to impress ellie deep down. you just brushed this off as an unwanted thought and ignored it, but it continued to linger in your mind. why do i even care what she thinks of me? you asked yourself.

about fifteen minutes later, dina finally came out of the bathroom.

“you said five”

“well, i still look good, don’t i?” she jokingly posed.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. let’s get going.”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

if there was one thing you could absolutely not stand about house parties, it was the stench inside the house. god was it awful. half of these people were frat boys who didn’t know what deodorant was and had been sweaty all night, and all this mixed with the smell of alcohol just made matters worse. most of the people were inside the house enjoying the music and the drinks, but you simply hung outside with dina chatting while drinking out of those cliche red cups you see in movies. you really couldn’t wait to get out of there, but yet again, that little voice in the back of your head made you think about ellie. you thought it was good you didn’t see her, but at the same time, you wanted to see her. it was a strange feeling. you couldn’t tell if it was curiosity, intrusive thoughts, or attraction. whatever it was, there was no way it was the last option.

about an hour passed and you were starting to get bored. just as you were about to suggest to dina you leave, a group of 8-ish people came out of the house to the backyard. among them was ellie. the moment you saw her you realized just how attractive she is. you had never looked at her enough to tell, but now it was evident. now you were even more confused. but you simply told yourself you can think she’s attractive and not be attracted to her.

you were so lost in thought you didn’t even realize one of the guys was talking to you and dina had to hit you on the shoulder to get your attention.

“is this chick high or something?” one of them laughed.

“uh- no- sorry. just kinda pensive.” you tried your hardest to avoid eye contact with ellie, and luckily this time you managed to do so. it just would’ve made things way more awkward.

“anyway-“ one of the guys started. “we were thinking since none of us wanna be with those people inside the house, we could just do something else to have fun.”

“what’re you thinking?” dina asked.

“7 minutes in heaven.”

you and dina were both a little stunned. you would’ve thought about some other thing, but you decided to go along with it anyway. not like anything could go wrong.

you all sat in a circle, and one of them began explaining the rules.

“simple, you spin the bottle, whoever it lands on, you have to go in the shed for 7 minutes and do any romantic or sexual act. kissing, making out, having sex even. but there has to be some proof you did something. if you didn’t do anything in the 7 minutes or refused to do anything in the first place, you take a shot. everyone got it?”

everyone nodded, and the game began. most people took a shot, about half an hour of the game went by and not a single person had gone into the shed. you landed on a few of the guys and vice versa, and while most of them were totally down to go in the shed with you, you most definitely weren’t. you weren’t sure if it was just you imagining things, but you felt you saw the slightest bit of anger and jealousy in ellie’s eyes anytime the bottle landed on you and the guys wanted to go in the shed with you, and she was relieved any time you took a shot. you found it strange. why did it matter to her? but you were sure you were just making things up.

you were starting to feel more and more tipsy from the drinks, standing on the line between drunk and sober. you were self-aware enough to tell yourself to not have any more drinks. one more spin, you told yourself. that was it. you spun the bottle, and surprise surprise, it landed on none other than ellie herself.

there was an awkward silence for a moment. you didn’t know what to do. it would be super awkward if either one of you accepted and the other declined.

one of the guys broke the silence first. “sooo.. are y’all going in the shed or not?”

“depends on her.” ellie smirked.

your face got a little hot. a soft red tinted your cheeks and you nodded, accepting in the heat of the moment. you were sure it was just your drunk mind making the decisions for you, but it wasn’t. you were very aware of the decision you had just made. but it hadn’t hit you yet. not until she walked behind you into the shed and shut the door.

“didn’t think you were into me like that,” ellie broke the silence. “i always thought you hated me or somethin’.”

you didn’t really know what to say. you mumbled some nonsense trying to come up with something fast.

“do i make you nervous?” she asked.

“sort of..” you were able to respond.

“ohh, i see,” she interrupted. “you just pretended to hate me for whatever reason.”

“no!” you protested. “i wasn’t pretending- i mean, i don’t hate you, it’s just. ugh.”

you gave up on trying to explain yourself when you realized just how childish and irrational you acted. seriously, disliking someone for outperforming you at your big age? the more you thought about it, the more embarassed you were about it. was it the alcohol doing this to you? it was all so confusing.

“why’d you accept to come into the shed with me?”

you didn’t respond, just shrugged. you didn’t know. you must’ve woken up on the wrong side of bed or something. you were acting very irrational today, and it’s like someone else was making decisions for you.

you didn’t realize she had pretty much backed you against one of the walls of the small room until now. this feeling, that you couldn’t quite put a name on, was so sudden and so foreign. did you have feelings for her that you had just been pushing away all this time because of jealousy? if not, what the hell was it?

her hand wandered up your skirt, stopping right before reaching your cunt. she looked up at you as if asking for approval, and although you hesitated for a moment, it’s as if your body made the decision for you and you nodded.

she didn’t waste any time and dipped her hand in your panties, rubbing circles on your clit to tease you, causing you to whimper and moan softly.

“so classy and put together whenever i see you, but look at you right now,” she teased. “no one would ever think you’d be whimpering for me like this.”

you blushed and looked away in embarrassment. you didn’t get why that made you blush. so many thoughts were racing through your head, so many conflicting feelings. yet you didn’t try to pull away, even though you had many opportunities to do so.

her touches weren’t enough and you were starting to get desperate, causing you to lightly buck your hips back and forth trying to feel her more.

“oh? someone’s desperate,” she chuckled. “alright, princess, i’ll give you what you want.”

you weren’t sure what she meant by that or what she was planning to do, but, for whatever reason, you trusted her.

she pulled her hand out of your panties, making you whine at the lack of contact.

“don’t worry, baby,” she said, getting down on her knees, her face at the level of your cunt. “i’ll take care of you real good.”

she started pulling down your panties and threw them somewhere on the floor, motioning you to put your leg on her shoulder. you seemed hesitant, thinking your leg might be kind of heavy for her to support on her shoulder. but she assured you it’d be fine.

her mouth was now millimeters away from your cunt. “if it’s too much, tell me to stop.” she looked up at you. you nodded, a little scared, but you still wanted to trust her.

she gave a long lick along your slit to tease you, making you gasp from the contact. she started mercilessly licking and sucking on your clit a little more intensely than you’d like her to, but at the same time, you liked it. you couldn’t tell her to stop. whimpers and moans came out of your mouth, being all that could be heard inside the small room aside from the wet sounds of ellie’s mouth on your cunt. you struggled more and more each second to stand as your legs wobbled and trembled from the sensation. she slid a finger inside you with ease, thrusting it in and out of you at a rapid pace which made you struggle to contain your moans that you started trying so hard to conceal since they only kept getting louder and louder. you had only been in that shed for about 6 minutes, but you were already about to reach your climax. and ellie was aware of this. she sped up her pace a little more, slurping up your juices like it was nothing.

after a moment, she lifted your leg from her shoulder and held your arm while getting up to make sure you could stabilize your footing.

“you okay?”

you nodded, and suddenly you realized what had just happened. ellie williams ate you out. you let the girl you swore you hated so bad eat you out, and you enjoyed it. you didn’t know what was the most shocking; that she didn’t hate you too, that she was even attracted to you, that she wanted to eat you out, or that you just let her. you weren’t sure wether you regretted it or not.

“what, you’re surprised you liked it or something?” she laughed, as if she had read your mind.

you felt your cheeks tint a slight red, and looked away in embarrassment, confirming she was right.

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes, turning to leave, but she grabbed your arm and stopped you.

“listen,” she looked into your eyes. “if you want, we can just forget about this. we don’t have to tell ‘em what happened.”

you nodded, and you both awkwardly walked back to the circle.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

when you sat back down, dina looked you up and down and giggled.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you whispered to her.

“you think we’re dumb?” she giggled. “there’s a reason neither of you had to take a shot. like for example, your messy hair.”

you realized it was obvious, and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right there. you had a lot of different feelings about what just happened, but the main one was embarrassment. it would’ve been one thing if it happened and you didn’t like it, but the fact that you enjoyed it was humiliating. not only did you like it, but you wanted more. you started to take a liking to her, and you hated that.

after about 15 more minutes, everyone got tired of the game and decided to end it. you and dina decided to just go home now, although it was a little early, since you hadn’t been enjoying yourselves much.

as you waited on the front lawn of the house for your uber to get there, you heard a voice calling from behind.

“dina!”

you both turned around and surprise surprise, it was ellie.

“what is it?”

“can i talk to your friend real quick?”

you and dina looked at each other, and you sighed and decided to talk to her. you thought it’ll be quick, and if anything, when the uber arrives you can use it as your get out of jail free card.

you walked over to her and she seemed to be abnormally tense.

“i just, uh. i wanted to ask if you were fine after all that.” she mumbled with a genuine expression on her face.

“ellie, it’s fine.” you sighed.

“are you sure?”

“yes, don’t worry about it. seriously.”

you thought that was it, but she clearly had something else on her mind.

“ellie, spit it out.”

“well, also,” she looked up at you, “i wanted to ask you for your number. i don’t think i’ve ever actually talked to you aside from today.”

you chuckled in disbelief at the audacity this girl had. clearly she knew you’d say no, and just wanted to rile you up. but you wouldn't give her that satisfaction, so you dropped the expression immediately and instead had a calm look on your face.

“maybe some other time, babe”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

A / N : u guys know i don’t rlly like adding notes at the end of my fics but i felt i must clarify the last sentence isn’t reader having a complete 180 change of personality all of a sudden rather just acting different than she was right before leaving to sort of leave ellie stunned if that makes sense but i didn’t know how to end it and clarify that eheh also i might make a part 2 of this after i finish my next fic and the part 2 to my other fic if u guys want it <3 also ONCE AGAIN english is not my first language i’m not completely fluent yet and i write as a way to practice ++ i don’t have a beta reader sooo if u guys find mistakes PLEASE let me know !! thx for reading <33

#arielle writes ୨୧ #arielle’s 18+ ୨୧ #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader

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liz-allyn · 2 years

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sugar and vice, pt 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Peter makes a daring rescue to save Honey. Or is this a rescue at all? more shameless trope pining.

words: 5.5k

warnings: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. bandaging wounds. ouchy hurt boo boo. lots of crying. references to assault. someone gets tortured. shameless forced proximity trope. imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions.

you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you're too young to remember the ipod nano, this aint for you, chief.

Back to Part 1

Part 2

How many state capitals can you name?

Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock.

She was running out of questions to distract herself. She’d already gone through listing all of Stephen King’s novels. All of the Presidents. All of the elements of the Periodic Table. She was running out of distractions.

Sacramento. Denver. Hartford. Dover.

She’d been to Delaware once for a funeral. The whole state was a graveyard. She was going to be killed and who would be at her funeral? Would her dark-eyed friend be the one to murder her?

Tampa. Atlanta. Honolulu. Fuck! Tallahassee, not Tampa… Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock. Sacramento—

Would he make it quick? Would it be him or would it be one of the people from the car? Did he know the two men that took her from the train? Did he order them to take her? Then what was that gunfire? Why did it seem like they were running?

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had been brought to a room, sat down, and left alone under the dark of the hood obscuring her vision. Heated but hushed voices echoed from the other side of a wall. They were too muffled to comprehend, but the frantic frustration was unmistakable.

She could barely make out the words.

“She’s a liability now, Parker! Where’s she gonna go?”

Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest. The conversation got quieter.

Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock. Sacramento. Denver.

The sound of a door lock startled her. Her body went rigid as a door opened wide. She swallowed hard, unable to get the image of the gun in Peter’s grip out of her mind. Heavy footsteps approached her. Her lip quivered beneath the hood. If the shot was coming, maybe it was better for it to come now. Maybe it was better if she didn’t see it coming.

The hood came off of her head, revealing a dark room only illuminated by a window. The night lights of the city skyline sparkled in the distance. She was on a sofa—a loveseat facing a desk. As far as she could tell, she was in some sort of office or study. And crouched down in front of her, was her dangerous friend.

Peter held his hands up in a placating manner, letting the hood drop to the floor. “Don’t cry, Honey. It’s just me.”

The sweetness of his voice made her heart beat faster. She cursed the treacherous bitch for allowing that to happen, after everything.

Just him. As if that was supposed to mean anything. Is he Peter, or is he Ben? Does it matter which one he’d tell her? And what other option did she have to respond, other than crying? Her mouth was still taped shut.

He studied her features in a way that made her squirm. His face was solemn as he considered her. He huffed a sigh. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me,” he declared in an apologetic tone. His cocoa eyes glistened with regret. “You’re probably feelin’ angry with me right now. I get that. You’ve been nothin’ but sweet to me and I... I—”

He stopped short of finishing the sentence as if his jaw locked up. A wrinkle creased his brow. He glanced down at the floor, then looked back up at her. “I’m gonna ask you to do somethin’ for me,” he began. “You don’t have any reason to owe me anything, I see that, I do. I don’t have the right to ask. But I’m still gonna ask.”

A hand came up to rub the back of his neck. The gesture made him seem more anxious, more boyish. Not the same man that marched into the garage holding a gun. Not the same man that ordered his man to blindfold her.

“You’ve always been patient with me,” he continued, dancing around a topic he didn’t want to address. “Even when I’m not my best. I need you to be patient with me now. Take a chance on me, Honey.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She really wished it wouldn’t do that.

He gazed at her, lowering his voice to an even more soothing tone. He emanated calm and control. “I’m gonna help you off the sofa, then we’re gonna leave this room,” he said. “We’re goin’ to the last door at the end of the hallway, okay? Nod if you understand.”

She stared at him like a deer in the crosshairs. After a moment, she nodded.

“Okay, good,” he replied. He reached for her. “Easy now.”

He put his hands around her upper arms and attempted to lift her weight from beneath her shoulders. A flash of pain erupted like her deltoids were on fire, and she winced and whimpered behind the tape.

Immediately, he pulled back his hands with a sour look. An edge of irritation returned to his eyes, in a way she’d remembered from the coffee shop when those goons showed up, except now they were alone and that look was rendered at her. Or so she thought.

Tears welling up again, she avoided his gaze. She sank further into the couch, as if that was even possible, and shook like a leaf. He stood before her wordlessly. She could only hear a heavy exhale through flared nostrils.

Seconds passed, then Peter bent at the waist, placing his hands on her hips. She shuddered at the pressure, the warmth and width of his hands on the crest of her hips. He held her in a steady grip, bringing her to her feet, this time with less pain.

Upon standing, she looked up and locked eyes with him. It stilled his motion, and he stood with her pressed up against his chest, looking down at her with darkening eyes. His body was solid mass through his white dress shirt. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him without a coat before. Her heart was fluttering, and she wondered if he could feel it. She felt suddenly pliant, legs turning into rubber.

Dizzy, she wavered a bit, blinking her eyes rapidly. It could’ve been the adrenaline spiking again, building pressure rising up beneath her skin. Perhaps it was her lack of real food since her distant lunch. Perhaps it was heat stroke, the way his gaze burned into hers.

He gripped her tighter. Swallowed hard.

Reluctantly, he released his hold, moving a hand to her lower back. “C’mon.”

She gulped. Hesitantly, she let him lead her to the door. Once they went through the doorway, he escorted her down the hall just as he had said. It was dark, but she could see light from beneath the closed door at the end of the hall.

Her boots felt heavy again. Her mind was screaming at her to run, but where would she go?

“S’okay,” he stated softly, reading the slowing of her steps for what it was. “Almost there.”

He brought her to the solid door, twisting the handle and opening it. The only thing her brain could register was a massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room. She pushed back on his palm, attempting to wrench away from him. He grabbed her from behind, his arms holding her in place.

“Easy, easy, s’okay,” he tutted.

But she was short-circuiting. Her mind was filled with violent images, clouding her sense of reason. A shriek crawled up her throat, desperately clawing at the adhesive of the duct tape over her mouth.

“Hey, s’okay, it’s okay!” He was holding her against the brick wall of his chest again. She shook her head desperately, struggling to break free to no avail. She could feel his heartbeat against her back.

He pressed his cheek against her temple, his arms pulling her in with crushing strength that lifted her feet from the floor. “Enough!” he snapped, with a shockingly harsh tone.

The simple admonishment made her go limp. She sobbed desperately.

His head fell backward and he let out a long sigh, frustration evident within him. He softened his grip, and instead of pinning her, it felt much more like an embrace. He bent his neck and his lips went to her temple again, his breath hot on her skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he breathed into her hair. She felt the slow rise and fall from his chest. The kindness had returned to his voice. He took another deep breath, and she felt it reverberate in her. “No one is gonna hurt you,” he declared, more authoritative this time. She matched her next breath to his.

They stood in silence for another few seconds. Her gaze traveled from the bed to the expanse of the room. The dark colors and modern accents. The yellow source of tungsten light spilled from an open doorway.

“Now we’re gonna walk forward. Into the bathroom.”

He began to walk forward, and her feet moved in accordance. After the first few concordant steps, he loosened his grip on her. She felt the absence of his body heat as they stepped onto a tiled floor, turning a corner to a grand bathroom bigger than her meager apartment bedroom.

It was stunning; a mix of classic beauty and masculinity. Adorned with black marble, gold fixtures, and subway tile. Her eyes soaked up the details with an unintentional gasp. Inappropriately, she wished for her phone to save the image to the Pinterest board of her bathroom dreams.

“It’s okay,” he gently reminded her. Hearing his voice pulled her back to her reality. Her eyes snapped over her shoulder, up to him, then back forward as they approached a freestanding clawfoot tub filled with steaming water.

Her feet got heavy again and he turned her to face him. She looked up at him with a face full of confusion and betrayal. It only seemed to sour him further.

“I need you to trust me, remember?” Peter said to her. “I’m gonna take off the tape, but I need you to get in the water first.”

She felt her head shaking. Tears streaming.

“It’s the tape,” he explained. “Your skin is already reacting to it. If I try to pull it off now, it’ll take your skin with it.” She quirked a brow up at him. “We’re gonna use the soapy water to soak the tape on your wrists. The stuff on your mouth, I have a solvent for.”

She blinked, looked at the water, and back up to him.

“You don’t have to undress or anything,” he answered, again reading her mind with stunning accuracy. “We can take off your boots and you can step right in if you don’t mind getting your clothes wet.” She watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’m not gonna try anything,” he whispered quietly, “I swear.”

She lost herself in his eyes again. She studied the honey of his irises, a golden glow enhanced by the vanity lamps. She thought of caramel and chocolate and bourbon. And the tang of oranges, the smokey smell and flavor of an Old Fashioned she had three years ago at The Flatiron Room on an otherwise disappointing date—

“You with me?” he spoke so softly it could be a croon. Brought his hands up and she felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing away her tears.

Her eyelashes fluttered closed at the sensation. That dizzy feeling hit her again, and she tried to swallow it down. When her eyes opened, she saw her friend staring back at her, the shadow of a smile adorning his face.

She spent too long gazing up at him like he was some sort of Prince Charming. Composing herself, she straightened and gave him a nod.

Having gathered her meaning, he responded with a subtle smirk, before putting it away. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees in front of her, never breaking eye contact. The action made her stomach weak. Made her avert her eyes. He deftly began untying the laces of her boots and braced her lower back to pull off her shoes.

Though he didn’t request it, she peeled her wool socks off next. She could have wet jeans and a wet shirt, but wet socks made her skin crawl. Once her bare feet were on the tiled floor, he came to a stand. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she stepped into the deep tub.

The warm water felt instantly soothing as she lowered herself into it. Her hands prickled with the sensation of the hot water reheating her abused limbs. He was right about her skin—she hissed at an immediate sting where the tape was. The thought of ripping off the duct tape over her mouth as fast as possible seemed more unpleasant.

She sat down with arms bound behind her, looking up at him as he sat beside the tub.

“The soap’s gonna help dissolve the adhesive,” he explained, pulling up a tray within his reach. A mass of dry cotton balls, cotton swabs, and gauze was neatly organized on it, next to several bottles of solution. It was bizarrely efficient. It made her wonder how many times he’d done this before.

He went to work, rolling up the arms of his sleeves up to his elbows. She pulled her eyes away from the sight of his toned forearms.

His fingers went to her face and she couldn’t help but flinch. He made note of it, lips pursed into a straight line, but said nothing. Slower, he reached for her hairline and a razor-sharp sting of her flesh reminded her that she had taken at least one good hit to the face.

His burnt-auburn eyes were now focused, a line forming in his brow as he studied a blood-crusted cut she couldn’t see.

“This one’s deep,” he said with a frown. “It’ll need liquid stitches. I’mma take care of this first before it gets worse.” His hands left her sensitive flesh as he came to a stand, moving across the bathroom into a medicine cabinet where more first-aid supplies were located.

While his back was turned, she rolled her eyes in frustration. The tape on her mouth was clearly the more pressing issue.

“Can you bear with me a couple of minutes before I take the tape off?” he asked perceptively. It was starting to get creepy. He sat down beside her again. “Just relax. It’ll be easier to do it now.” He dabbed a cotton ball with alcohol. “And it’ll be harder for you to bite me.”

Her eyes darted to his face, her body tensing. She had bitten one of her captors hard enough to draw blood. He busied himself with cleaning and dressing the wound while she pondered the possibility that Peter had been behind her kidnapping earlier in the evening.

That neck-less, ginger bastard – Katz? – dragged her off the train without any regard for whether or not she felt safe. Particularly right before he knocked her out. Did he work for Peter? She hadn’t seen his face since.

“Your heart’s racing,” he informed her, breaking her chain of thought. He swallowed hard, a solemn look plastered firmly on his face. “I wasn’t lying when I said no one was going to hurt you.” His eyes rested on the wound as he delicately pinched her flesh together. “Not again,” he sighed, disappointed.

A few seconds passed as he carefully coated the cut in the liquid stitch solution. He looked pained, increasingly irritated. “I’m sorry about all this,” he blurted out. “I-I never shoulda come back to see you. I... I-I’m sorry about everything. Never meant for any of this to happen.” His sad eyes found hers. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t mean much, I know. But I hope you believe me.”

She stared. Considering. Decided that she did. She had to. Tied up, sitting waist-deep in this strange man’s bathtub, she had nothing else but her hope.

He took a cotton swab and dipped it in a jar of pristine petroleum jelly. One hand delicately lifted her chin, angling her face upward toward him, as he took a corner of the tape at her mouth and began to work the petroleum beneath the strip. He meticulously followed that action with a warm, wet compress, and then a cotton ball of isopropyl alcohol. The tape hurt as it slowly gave way, but less than it could’ve.

The peaceful silence gave her time for her brain to slow down. Time to think. Time to plan. Time to question those plans. Question her judgment.

“Alright, almost done,” he said, then gave a small tug on the tape. The moment her lips were unsealed she took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how much her breathing had been restricted.

Peter reached back for her with a square of medical-grade adhesive remover.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, jerking her head out of his reach. He froze immediately, lifting his hands away where she could see them. Behind her, she pulled and tugged on the duct tape, the glue now having partially dissolved. She winced as she pulled her wrists apart.

“I was gonna get to that—”

She bit down on a yelp at the burn of the tape ripping off, taking bits of hair and drops of blood with it. She pulled her arms in front of her, revealing angry red welts on her wrists. Her shoulders felt like a stretched-out rubber band, tender to each movement.

“Okay,” he nodded bitterly, frustration poking through. “Tape’s off. You’re bleeding. Well done—”

“Stay away from me!” she barked. She scooted back as far as she could away from him in the bathtub. Her eyes were wide and wild, like she really could bite him at any moment. He sat back on his ankles, staring at her. Displeased.

“Take it easy,” he softly ordered, cool as ever.

“I-I don’t know who you are or-or what you’re into,” she babbled frantically. “But you—you better lemme go!” She panted heavily, words flowing out of her mouth, “My-my boyfriend is a cop! He tracks my phone. He’ll know I didn’t come home and-and when he turns on the tracker, he’ll see that I’m here... and he’ll bring fifty cops with him!”

Peter stared at her flatly, raising a brow. It was clear by his reaction that he wasn’t impressed. “Fifty?” he repeated, deadpan. “That’s a lot. Where’re they gonna park?”

“I’m serious!” she growled.

“Oh, yea-yeah, I know,” Peter nodded, pulling himself into a crouch at the tub. “This boyfriend of yours,” he added, swallowing grit as he said it, “he got a name?”

She blinked. “Jefferson.”

“Jefferson?”

“Scott.”

“Is it Scott or is it Jefferson? Is it Jefferson Scott?”

His mocking tone filled her with a flash of anger. She seethed, swearing at herself not to cry again. “Let me go!” she demanded with a glare. “And I promise, he won’t kill you when he finds me!”

The humor evaporated from his eyes like a droplet of water in a frying pan. “A promise?” Peter repeated, his cocky smile fading. He went motionless. Eyes dark. A chill shot down her spine. “Where was ‘Jefferson’ when Fisk’s men grabbed you tonight?” She swallowed hard. Refused to blink. “Really coulda used his help,” he bit off.

Her heart was beating faster than before. Pounding like a kickdrum beneath her ribs. His blackened eyes narrowed on her. “Do you have any idea,” he questioned bitterly, “what they would’ve done t’ya? If I hadn’t gotten there first?”

The calm tone of his overt implications made her queasy again. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for a reply.

She gulped. Steadied her voice. “Who's to say they don’t work for you?”

“They don’t work for me,” Peter declared, ice in his eyes.

“You expect me to believe—”

“They don’t work for me,” he repeated, as serious as a heart attack, “because I don’t employ assholes who beat on women.” He leaned forward, his chest puffing up, his words coming out in a low hiss. “Because if I want something done, I do it myself. Especially when it comes to protecting what’s mine.” His eyes narrowed, “And we both know you don’t have a boyfriend.”

She blinked at him, dumbstruck. Peter declared through gritted teeth, “You could send fifty cops or fifty-thousand. If someone took my girl, I’d get there first. And there’s not a damn thing you could say to keep me from rippin’ him apart.”

She shifted backward, arms wrapped tightly around her body, stunned by the switch in demeanor. He sat across from her, quietly glaring, chest heaving with pent-up rage. Her throat felt tight. Her pulse pounded in her neck.

Seconds passed as they gazed at each other in a stalemate. He was the first to look away, his breathing conscientiously slowing down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, keeping his head turned away from her sight.

“Don’t lie to me,” Peter said, finally. “Ever.” He looked up at her, eyes a bit softer. “It’s very important that you never lie to me. When people lie to me, it puts me at a disadvantage. Makes it harder for me to protect the people I care about.” He sniffed, stowing his emotional baggage from earlier. “So please,” he gently requested, “don’t lie.”

He kept his eyes downward as if he was more interested in the state of the grout. She had witnessed him rear up like a cobra and now he was slinking away, sheepishly hiding from her gaze.

There was that word again — protection. His focus is protecting the people he cares about. Protecting what’s his. She eyed him carefully, her muscles relaxing a bit. This was happening because she was a threat to him. Did that mean in some way, she had power over him?

He wiped his nose with his forearm, still avoiding her eyes. “You hurt anywhere else?” She blinked up at him, confused. Her silence made him meet her gaze again, and this time the sympathy and remorse had returned. “Anywhere I can’t see?”

She stiffened once she caught his meaning. Breaking eye contact, she gazed down at the tiny bubbles coating the surface of the water. “Um... no.” She answered as honestly as she could. “I don’t... I don’t think so.” The statement felt like a lump in her throat. She felt her eyes burn again, and she angrily dared her body to defy her again. She couldn’t handle it.

“Okay,” he nodded. After a moment, he came to a quick stand. His orders flowed more formally. “There are towels over here. There’s a robe on the door. Cat’s gettin’ you some clothes. Should be here soon. Leave the wet stuff on the edge of the tub. When you’re done in here, come outside of the bedroom. I’ve got one more thing I need from you tonight, Honey.”

He turned on the leather sole of his heel and disappeared from her sight, as fast as ever. She sat in the rapidly cooling water of the tub, tenderly rubbing the swollen flesh of her wrists. She listened to his footsteps diminish. The door slammed, a bit too forcefully.

Alone, finally, she allowed herself to cry again.

About fifteen minutes after being left alone, she emerged from the main bedroom with a thick white terry robe blanketing her. With nothing but her thoughts and growing exhaustion, she decided not to keep Peter waiting too long. She’d completed each task on his list, as a good houseguest should. Or whatever she was.

She found him leaning back against the wall in the darkened hallway, hands in his pockets, musing quietly. He turned to look at her with a much calmer mood. Both of them cooled off from their earlier spat, but an awkwardness remained. An elephant in the room neither of them wanted to address.

“C’mere,” Peter beckoned, jerking his head down the hall. “I wanna show you something.” He turned and approached a flight of stairs, descending it. She had no other option but to follow.

They reached the main level of the residence where she took in the sight of an open-floor living room and kitchen surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. Though it was night, this was the most well-lit area she had seen. It was spotless, and carried the same modern, refined-industrial aesthetic that she saw in the bathroom.

She recognized the lanky teenager on the couch, sitting with arms crossed, head bobbing to music blaring out of over-the-ear headphones. Miles sat quietly in his own world, brow furrowed, as he focused on the beat of the music.

Tapping away at her smartphone, the silver-haired woman from the car ride paced idly. She was even more gorgeous in person. Peter approached her, hands in his pockets, and nodded in Miles’ direction.

“What, is it time for a siesta?” Peter muttered disapprovingly.

The woman gave him a go-to-hell look. “Lay off, will ya? You know how he gets.”

“We need to keep our eyes open,” Peter responded grimly. “That means on alert, Felicia.”

“Jesus Christ, Parker,” she groaned with a petulant sigh. “Seriously?” The woman, Felicia, looked up incredulously at their houseguest, then back to her boss. “What happened to discretion? You wanna give her my social security number, too?”

“Where’s O’Hara?” Peter replied.

She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms. “Fuck it, then. In the basement with Brock. That’s Eddie Brock, if anyone here is taking notes for the FBI.” She turned, minding her phone again. “If you need me, I’ll be keepin’ my eyes open, with your credit card, waiting for the Postmates guy to deliver your lady friend a new wardrobe.”

Peter rolled his eyes with a light scoff.

“And just for that, I’m buying myself my Christmas present from Fendi,” she called back, a deadpan tone. “Thanks, Boss. You really shouldn’t have.”

Peter glanced over at his Honey, who was curiously watching the familial interaction in silence. He jerked his chin again, approaching a metal door frame near the foyer. “This way.”

He tapped a button on the wall, calling up an elevator. She shuffled uncomfortably on her bare feet, but then followed him into the tiny space. They stood together in silence as the elevator descended.

Once it opened, they were in a dark, dingy, brick-laid fortress, a stark contrast from the exquisite rooms above. He stepped out of the elevator, and hesitantly, she followed, wishing she’d put on her boots.

The space felt claustrophobic, littered with dust-covered junk. Mostly paper boxes. There was a table with an old computer that looked at least 30 years old, surrounded by glass beakers and antiquated lab equipment. She spotted a retro green chalkboard on castors, half-shrouded in a tarp.

As much distance as she wanted to put between herself and Peter, she also crowded at his back. She felt cobwebs brushing her ankles, and the sensation made her want to fold herself up like origami.

They turned a corner and she froze. Mouth agape with horror.

Bound and gagged in the middle of the basement was Katz. The man looked rough. Barely conscious. His face was bruised, bloodied, and jagged, the bones having been broken and rearranged. On either side, Miguel and another thick mass of man—Eddie Brock for anyone taking notes for the FBI—stood by. She watched Eddie anxiously as he wiped his hands with a blood-stained shop rag.

The sight of tortured man made her gag. Tears sprang to her eyes as she glanced away in terror.

“S’Okay,” Peter tutted, taking her by the shoulders and keeping her back to their tortured captive. She was grateful for that kindness, as it spared her the sight of the half-dead man.

“Remember I told you that you could trust me?” Peter asked, tilting his head towards her. She was gasping. Sucked in air, like a fish out of water. “Honey, look at me.”

Her stomach quaked and she worried that she’d vomit. Despite this, she looked up at him. Once he had her attention, he went on.

“This man works for somebody very dangerous,” he explained slowly. “He had direct orders to kidnap you and take you to one of his places. A mechanic’s shop near the docks on the Lower East Side that he uses for business. Once they had you there, he and a bunch of his friends were supposed to hurt you.”

Her chest heaved violently, tears flooding her vision. She shook her head and tried looking away. Felt faint. Like she was going to pass out. Gently, Peter hooked his fingertips beneath her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

“They were ordered to take pictures,�� he softly added, more gentle with his choice of words, “and send them to me.” A heartbroken sob escaped her lips and he winced, as if the sound alone caused him physical pain. “Listen, listen, listen,” he cooed, shushing her.

He dipped his head, leaning his forehead against hers. It was intimate. Too close for the relationship that they had, but at the same time, she was starving for it. The sensation of his warm skin against hers, the heat of his lungs ghosting on her face—they worked to ground her. She focused on what was happening and not what could have happened.

“I never got any pictures,” Peter explained tenderly. “He says they never got that far.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her chin quivering. She leaned into the touch of his thumb gently stroking her jaw. When she could open her eyes again, she found his. His cocoa orbs gazing down at her compassionately.

“Remember what I said about lies?” he asked with a kind voice. “Remember I asked you never to lie to me?”

Another quiet sob whimpered out. She nodded her head.

“Tell me the truth now, Honey,” he said. He lifted his forehead, gazing into her soul. “Is that the man that hit you?”

She shuddered at the memory. Terror gripping her. Heart pounding.

“Words, Honey,” he tutted gently. “I need you to say it. Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” she whimpered in reply. She brought her hands up to cover her face, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Good girl,” he answered. “You don’t need to hide.”

The tears kept coming. “I can’t.... I can’t—”

“S’okay, we’re almost done,” he cooed, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. “Now this part’s really important. I want you to think. I don’t want you to be afraid. Just think.”

She cried even harder. Her body swayed. She felt like a lone tree being pummeled by a hurricane. As much as she wanted to collapse, he held her upright. “Please,” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what for. “I don’t want... I can’t...”

He wrapped his hands around her cheeks, his fingers reaching around her head. “Just look at me, Honey,” he replied.

Sniffing hard, she complied. He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t decode. It was a blend of anger, sadness, and pain all at once. He swallowed hard, as if he was trying to steady himself.

“Tell me the truth,” he said with a voice void of its own breath. “Did this man, or any of the other men, hurt you?” She shook her head rapidly. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” she sobbed.

“Don’t lie—”

“No!” she shouted desperately.

He exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he’d been holding. “Good,” he nodded, seeming to relax. His hands rubbed her arms, taking extra care around her shoulders. “That’s good.”

“Boss,” a voice called from behind them. She looked beyond Peter to see Miles standing anxiously near the elevator entrance. He wore a hollow expression. Breathed through his mouth only. “You think she could use some sleep?”

Peter gazed at the younger man, a mixture of grief and gratitude. “Yeah,” he nodded, blinking away tears that had begun to form at his lashes. “That’s a good idea. Take her upstairs, wouldya?”

Miles nodded once, and stepped forward. Hesitantly, Peter let go. Honey shot out of his arms like a spooked cat, clinging to Miles’ chest and burying her face there. Vicious sobs racked through her body. Miles placed a hand on her back and led her back out of the basement.

Peter watched her go sadly. Didn’t turn away until he heard the elevator doors close.

“So,” Eddie’s deep voice chimed in, fixing his grim blue-green eyes on Peter. “What now?”

Both Miguel and Eddie watched the tense curve of Peter’s shoulders. The balling of his fists.

“Hammer,” he replied, voice as dark as night. Peter turned and stalked toward the captive. He snatched a bloodied hammer off a workbench nearby. Eyes widening with fear, Katz began to jerk in his seat, pulling desperately on his restraints.

“You should be grateful, Nicky,” Peter sneered, acid in his voice. “This coulda gone another way.” He loomed over the captive, eyes blacker than oil, nostrils flaring. He gripped the handle so hard, it’s a wonder it didn’t snap in his hand.

“If I found out you were lyin’ to me,” Peter said, vengeance coating his voice, “I woulda gone for the pruning shears.”

Continue to Part 3

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kurishiri · 3 months

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04 . . . “ snuggling up at the secret beach ”

— 🌊 elbert’s main route chapter 4 premium story

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: none.

The place Lord Elbert brought me to was a beach where only the quiet sound of waves resounded.

(…Such a pretty scenery.)

Hugging my knees, I dazedly stared out at the surface of the water, which sparkled with the moon’s light.

Lord Elbert sat down next to me on the sand, staring out at the sea, much like what I was doing.

Elbert: …When it becomes hard to breathe, I come here.

E: There are no shadows of boats here, and when I stare at the horizon… just a little bit, it becomes easier to breathe.

E: It’s, my secret place.

When I looked out at the horizon with Lord Elbert by my side, a sense of calm lulled my heart.

Kate: …It’s a lovely place.

(I feel like I’ve never really stared out into the sea before.)

The sound of the waves approaching and withdrawing from the shore was so gentle, the things I kept bottled up inside me came surging.

Kate: I wonder if… we made Daisy suffer more?

K: After all, we continued to visit her even after we finished questioning her…

Just like that, the things that had always been on my mind spilled from my lips.

Even if I held regrets, there was no way to turn back time.

But, I still ended up thinking.

What if there was some way to not hurt her?

(I can’t help but think we went wrong somewhere.)

Elbert: …That may be true.

Lord Elbert did not affirm nor deny my words.

It wasn’t that he was negligent nor was it that he didn’t care.

But rather, it was proof that he was paying attention, gently considering my words rather than wanting to recklessly end the conversation.

Elbert: I’ve… also been thinking about it.

E: That is, the first day we visited Daisy together.

E: Perhaps I was the one in the wrong, for not telling you to wait outside of the hospital room.

(…Could it be, at that time—)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: …That’s why I’m really happy today, to have heard she is alright.

Elbert: …Kate.

Kate: Yes…?

Elbert: I think you—

—— End flashback ——

Kate: Back then, you were about to say that, weren’t you?

Elbert: I had a feeling… if your emotions had gotten the better of you, you would have suffered.

E: But in the end, I’m not sure what was right… and it ended up like this.

(I… also don’t know.)

(If we didn’t visit her, we wouldn’t have made her suffer the way she had.)

(And I wouldn’t have known this gaping feeling in my chest either.)

(But even so…)

(When I think about how Daisy might have been all alone, in her own sadness,)

(no matter how many times we could do this over again, I would have wished that we could visit her.)

(Even if I end up with regrets, thinking ‘what I did might have been wrong.’)

Elbert: …Do you want to forget, about her?

When I heard the question, an image of Daisy popped up on the back of my mind.

An image of Daisy with a smile on her cute freckled cheeks.

Kate: No… I don’t want to forget.

K: Because Daisy had smiled for us.

(Because even if we hurt her, she smiled for us.)

(I think that was the kindness Daisy had given us.)

Kate: It may be painful remembering it.

K: But I want to remember how, even if we had hurt her, that she had still chosen to stay with us.

Elbert: …I see…

E: You are strong, and kind. You, and Daisy both.

The way Lord Elbert murmured those words was as though he was different, and that left me perplexed.

(Even now, I’m being saved by your kindness.)

He didn’t say “it was a mistake” while full of grief and sorrow, nor did he say “it was not a mistake” to put on a brave front.

He simply said “it might have been wrong” as is.

And Lord Elbert’s way of neither confirming nor denying my words was something I needed.

(As proof of that, right now, I feel like it’s easier to breathe than before.)

Kate: That goes for you, too, Lord Elbert. If I had sunk in my thoughts alone, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel this way right now.

K: With all the worrying and feeling weary, I might have felt I want to forget.

K: But it’s because you had brought me here and listened to what I had to say, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: …I didn’t do anything.

Lord Elbert turned back to the horizon once more, and I couldn’t help but stare at his profile from the side.

(He is not shedding any tears. If anything, he is close to emotionless…)

(but for some reason, he looks like he is crying.)

Kate: Lord Elbert, do you come here to this beach alone when it becomes hard to breathe?

Elbert: Yes. …I often come here so I can be alone.

E: Come to think of it, it’s the first time I have brought anyone here…

Kate: …Is that a good thing?

Elbert: I had a feeling… that if it was you, it was alright if I told you.

Kate: Oh…

Those words, spoken so casually, gently smoothed down the hole in my heart.

Even if we end up hurting someone without knowing, the Lord Elbert and I right now are not like that.

I felt like that was what he was trying to say.

Kate: Thank you… really…

Something hot inside me threatened to spill out, so I looked down to try and keep it in.

Then, I saw something as white as snow stumble near my legs.

(…What is it?)

It was a small, round white shell, which was buried a bit underneath the sand, which felt cool in the night.

(It’s so pretty, I almost want to cry.)

Kate: …Come to think of it, you told me before to tell you if I find anything I think is beautiful.

K: What about this shell?

I tried to pick it up from the sand.

Elbert: …Is it beautiful, to you?

Kate: Yes, very…

Elbert: …I see…

Kate: When you feel something is beautiful, with whom you saw it, and what you thought at the time…

K: It’s those kinds of things that make you feel it’s beautiful in your heart, rather than the thing itself.

K: This shell is small and quite ordinary.

K: But when I think about how I found it on this beach… it feels much more special.

Elbert: …

Kate: Even if it’s ugly to 99 people…

K: To a single person, it might be the most beautiful thing in the world.

Elbert: That…

E: …must feel like a miracle to that ‘ugly thing.’

Turning his gaze to the shell, Lord Elbert murmured in a slightly sad voice.

Kate: …Lord Elbert, do you think this shell is beautiful?

Elbert: …I don’t know.

(‘I don’t know’…)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Just that while Elbie indeed has a desire for beautiful things, he doesn’t trust his own judgment, and it’s ever so slightly troublesome.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: Alfons said that you ‘don’t trust your own judgment.’”

(Which means it’s not as though he has never felt something was beautiful before… right?)

Kate: Can I ask why that is…?

Elbert: …Because the things I thought were beautiful… were no good.

Kate: ‘No good’…?

Elbert: Yes… they were no good.

(So those beautiful things couldn’t grant some wish that he wants to grant, maybe…?)

When I saw those empty eyes staring out cover with sadness from the side, I hesitated to pry any deeper.

(If it’s something that makes him this sad, I shouldn’t dig deeper just out of curiosity.)

But, I couldn’t help but wish I could be there with him in his sadness.

(Right now, it seems like Lord Elbert is doing that very thing for me…)

Kate: …Lord Elbert.

Elbert: Hm…? What is it?

Kate: When you’re sad, and if you don’t want to be alone…

K: If you’re okay with me, please feel free to call me.

Elbert: … [surprised]

E: …Thank you.

(Ah…)

My pulse quickened a little at his smile.

(I want you to smile more.)

But Lord Elbert’s smile was ephemeral, vanishing as quickly as it came.

I didn’t want this sad but gentle time to end, so who knows for how long we had sat together looking out to the ocean.

(…It’s chilly.)

My fingers were starting to get cold, signaling it was around time we should be leaving the comfort of the beach.

Kate: The wind has grown a bit chilly, so should we head back now?

Urging Lord Elbert, I stood up slowly.

(As for the shell… we can leave it here.)

Just when I tried to put the shell gently back into the sand—

Elbert: …Wait.

Kate: Hm…?

Suddenly, Lord Elbert grabbed hold of my wrist.

Elbert: Could you… give me that shell?

Kate: This?

Elbert: Yes… I want the shell, because you were the one who found it.

Lord Elbert looked up at me, still seated on the sand.

(Is it because I said it was ‘beautiful’? Or, could it be Lord Elbert himself thinks it’s beautiful?)

Regardless, it was probably going to meet the same destiny as the other things in his room.

It might end up the same as the other things scattered about his room, forgotten.

(But…)

(The memory of the time we spent together here at the beach would be in that room.)

(So it would be nice if, even for a moment, it could be the thing for Lord Elbert.)

Kate: Here you go. I put my gratitude for your kindness and taking me to your secret place in this shell.

Elbert: …Thank you.

Kate: Hehe, it was a bit of an exaggeration though.

The small, ordinary shell in a palm as beautiful as a sculpture’s seemed to sparkle brightly as it bathed in the moonlight.

Kate: Well then, shall we… head… back…?

When I held out the shell, Lord Elbert took my whole hand, as if trying to wrap the entire shell around it.

Kate: Lord Elbert…?

Elbert: …

His fingers were as cold as mine, but his palm was warm.

With his palm wrapped around my fingers, they started to gradually warm up.

(Why did he suddenly grab my hand…?)

Elbert: …Your hand is cold.

Kate: You too, Lord Elbert. Your fingertips are also just as cold as mine.

Elbert: I’m used to it, so…

Lord Elbert pulled on my hand, still in a seating position.

He pulled it to his forehead, almost as if he was sending a prayer.

Elbert: I… did think about returning soon, but…

E: Let me lean a bit more on your silence.

E: …I know it’s chilly, but I can’t let you return yet. …I’m sorry.

My heart skipped a beat.

(Lord Elbert, too…)

(I wonder if it becomes even a little easier to breathe when I’m with him.)

(…It would be nice if that were the case.)

Kate: There’s no need to apologize.

K: I was also thinking that I wanted to stay here a bit longer.

Elbert: …Is that so?

E: Then let’s stay like this… just a little longer.

My fingertips stole from Lord Elbert’s warmth, and until they became warm,

Lord Elbert held onto my hand like he did the shell, not once letting go.

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader)

Chapter Five: Nisi Pellis Nostra (SOS)

Synopsis: The Lich reveals his fate for you and your 'higher purpose' after a series of experiments that leave you feeling hopeless. The Spawn Monster tries to reassure you that everything is going to be okay.

CW: Mentions of gore, mentions of non consensual surgical-esque procedures on Ghosts, basically I've been watching a lot of Criminal Minds lately, being changed against a character's will.

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie's 'image' is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 4 : Chapter 6: AO3

You know you have only been in the liche’s ‘care’ for a little over 24 hours now, but it feels like you have spent forever and a day down here already.

Yesterday he had performed multiple experiments on you by seeing how your body responds to various types of magic. You are extremely sore

It’s just you, Leon’s desecrated body, and the Spawn Monster. You’ve had a few exchanges with the creature as it tries to tempt you into conversing with it.

You want to, but it’s too confusing and makes you feel sick.

Aurelia had been Cazador’s first spawn and she had fought so hard to keep him from being angry with her while Astarion turned towards malicious compliance.

After Aurelia came Astarion and then Dalyria. Dalyria has always fascinated you with her brilliance and pension for medicine as well as modern tactics. She did not believe in the Gods nor that they would save her so she was determined to save herself.

Violet and Yousen became spawn within days of each other and fought like cats and dogs- neither one of them willing to be the Scratch of the duo and keep the peace. You did enjoy their pranks on each other (when they weren’t ridiculously cruel).

Petras had been maybe two, three decades before Leon- who only became a part of the coven a decade ago. Petras' dullness had driven Cazador, Astarion, and frankly, everyone mad. You have never met someone so dense in your entire existence, but at the end of the day, he was always good. He tried to keep his intentions as pure as possible and despite Astarion’s disdain for him, Petras did adore him and considered him his brother. He had been the hardest one to crack regarding Astarion’s location in Baldur’s Gate that day so many months ago.

“What does dick cheese mean?”

It’s a fair question that not even you can really answer- to be frank, you had kind of panicked when Leon had turned on you with his hackles raised. You just threw out some words to break up some of the anger.

You want to look over at the other siblings- you are desperate to be able to look over and see them all separated- somewhere far away and happy.

Somewhere safe where Leon’s grief could never- would never- touch them.

“I honestly don’t know,” you whisper, “I was just throwing out words.”

“It was clever,” the Spawn monster says, “it made me think of a STI.

“Which Leon has been for a while.”

You snort and look over, only to look away again. Your heart is truly broken for them. You will never complain about being stuck as a Ghost again- you are very very lucky.

Astarion will be devastated, despite what he would lead others to believe, he does actually care about the individuals he suffered alongside with in Szarr Palace. He will be especially upset to see Dalyria, the one he does consider a sister through and through, is gone. He will even grieve Petras who he pretends he is incapable of tolerating.

You shake your head- yes, he will grieve, but you will make sure he doesn’t fall to his knees and let life guillotine his heart. The survivors' guilt will not win- you will make sure of that- and if there is a way to save the Spawn, they will find it.

“Is it that bad?”

The sadness in their voice is still recognizable through the heavy slurred speech. You nod numbly. There is no point in lying.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for!?”

This time you do look over and face your fears- looking her in her eyes (well Aurelia and Violet’s eyes). It’s odd how you can see how the five distinct personalities are still there all from a look or a change of posture.

A sudden burst of pain causes the creature to keel over and cry out- the stitches glowing with an angry red color.

The monster looks you in the eyes with tears.

“We’re a monster,” it says, “we should have stopped Leon the moment Yousen and Aurelia went missing. We suspected, but thought it was too good to be true. Leon couldn’t do this to us.”

You shake your head aggressively, trying to will your own tears away. This is not about you- you're not the one who has had your autonomy ripped away time and time again.

“You will not apologize to me for something out of your control,” you say softly, “Leon made his own choices. I wish they hadn’t involved any of you.”

“We know,” it says, “we appreciate it.

“And personally,” this time you know it’s Dalyria, “I am grateful to you for taking care of Astarion. You need to promise you will continue to take care of him.”

There is a finality in their voice that causes you to release a choked sob. They don’t plan on ever being saved or fixed.

“Birdie, you must do us a favor.”

“Okay?”

“You have to destroy us.”

“What!?” You hissed in surprise, “no!”

“Please,” it begs, pleads, a tear going down Dalyria’s face, “it hurts- he will continue to refurbish us like he has been doing. The remainder of our bodies- they have been scattered around. We will never be able to rest while he continues to resurrect pieces of us at a time.

“Last time, Petras was doing all of the talking until he became annoyed with Petras. That’s why his lips are stitched shut with silver- any talking will make his pain worse.

“Don’t leave us here to suffer.”

“But what makes you so sure I’ll be out of here anyhow? Maybe we can find a way to save yo-“

“No,” it says, “there is no way to undo what has been done.

“We can still feel his emotions to an extent. Half hysterical and racing to get here. Nervous, scared that he has lost you permanently. Cazador is dead, but our own connections are still there- faint, but there.

“Promise us that you will destroy us- every last piece.”

You take a shaky breath in- maybe you should also be concerned for your own survivor’s guilt.

“Okay,” you whisper, “I promise- if it has to come to that, but don’t give up hope.”

The sad smile is unsettling and full of rows of razor sharp teeth- you breathe unevenly and try to calm the galloping in your chest.

It may not matter that you know who they are- it’s still terrifying and unsettling to see them this way.

Clanging from down the hall- you can hear the Shadar Kai soldiers coming towards you. You wish you could turn invisible and hide, but whatever magic is around your cage is preventing you from being able to cast anything.

The lich walks into the room- an unsettling smile across his dead, rotting face. He stares into you as if he can see your entire existence. It’s been one whole day of not being bothered of him- you knew becoming complacent was a bad idea.

The Spawn monster protests and slams against the cage- trying to keep the Lich from reaching you, but it’s too late. Your body feels like jelly and you begin to unravel to the floor- your form is absolutely paralyzed.

“Leave her alone!”

“SILENCE!”

A ripple of red, angry magic goes through their body and the scream that echoes through the room makes you cry and your heartbreak. They just wanted to help you- you will find a way to help them. This will not be the end for any of you- you are determined to save yourself and them.

You may not be very big Birdie, you think, but apparently you are pretty strong for whatever reason and you know how to use Bardic Magic to an extent. You know how to use Vicious Mockery and you have a decent amount of cantrips like Firebolt and shocking grasp. You just need to break whatever hold he has on your body. You can do this Birdie- you badass bitch!

You continue to hype yourself up in your head as they carry you off down the hallway by your limp limbs- at least it doesn’t hurt.

You focus with everything you have in your body and begin to chip away at the grasp the liche has on your body.

“How very fascinating,” the lich muses as you are laid down on a stone slab, “you are rather strong and you think rather quickly on your feet for someone who died so young. I wonder what secrets I will find inside you…”

Gods no. This isn’t happening to you- the knife begins to cut into your abdomen like your skin is butter and it’s horribly painful- the blade coated in silver and silver itself. Even if you do regenerate (hypothetically you should) it’s going to hurt and take a lot longer than you would have hoped to heal.

You can feel the lich enforce his will on you and you are forced to lay there quietly- entirely unable to move and no matter how much you try to fight against his grasp- it doesn’t happen.

He pulls out each of your organs- inspecting them and it hurts. You can feel him put your heart in other, dead bodies- seeing if the body will come to life. It does- momentarily, but then you begin to choke and the body dies and your heart is returned to you.

You have never been touched before by anyone and now? Now you just feel violated. You stopped keeping track of what he was pulling out, putting in and out of other bodies before putting back in your own, and even scooping out ectoplasm surrounding your organs. It all feels unnatural and painful- you zone out.

You are there for hours- you know because you’ve been counting the seconds in your head- trying to focus on every passing second instead of the grubby, evil fingers tearing you apart and putting it back together.

You give up- unable to justify trying to live through this if this is the existence you are doomed to.

For once, you don’t want Astarion to come. You don’t want him to see you this way and you hope he’s turned tail and ran away instead of rushing into danger to save her. Your tears begin to fall again- the Lich pulling out one of your eyes, commenting how fascinating it is that you are still able to produce tears without it before putting it back in to mend it back together.

You drift off into a land where this had never happened. Maybe a different time period, an alternate universe, where you are playing at a Tavern, a young bard trying to make a name for herself. A beautiful, cocky Magistrate walks up to you with life in his cheeks and blue (or maybe green?) eyes.

In this reality, Astarion courts you, adores you, and neither one of you is horribly traumatized to get there. You live a happy life together, you go on adventures, own a home together, and maybe even one day have children together.

Your parents would have adored him- you wonder if his would have adored you?

“Lubanac is going to be most pleased,” the lich hums, “you are going to be the perfect little creature for the Morbid Maze. I know exactly what I am going to turn you into!

“Ah here it is,” the Lich menancingly smiles at you and your own scream of terror reaches your ears, “a Necroplasm! It will take another day since I have more tests to conduct, but you’ll be one of these beautiful creatures soon, my beautiful little Ghosty.”

It’s just a blob of ectoplasm and bones. You whimper and begin to shake.

“Oh no, no, no,” the lich strokes your face, “do not cry little one- you won’t even remember any of this once I change you.

“It will all be over soon,” he coos, “and in the meantime- you are doing an honorable service for our Lord Orcus and his priest, my leader, Lubanac. You will have a higher purpose once again- you will protect the morbid maze and fight alongside Orcus. What a boon- I’m almost jealous.”

It’s a fight not to continue crying- not wanting to give the lich more curiosities to poke around with or a reason to turn you earlier- so you do the only thing you can think of doing.

You fall asleep.

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

You can feel all of your organs back in the right place within your body, but you feel entirely ruined to your core.

Astarion would never want you this way- used and rearranged, ectoplasm happily consumed by a lich who was constantly telling you every ‘fascinating’ detail he finds in your form as he worked. The lich at least gave you a bit more insight into your own condition- technically Donella did succeed in changing you, but she didn’t know how to resurrect you so that’s why you are stronger than a normal Ghost- you harbor some Spawn strength.

You went from being a Ghost, a Cat, a Person, and then a Science Project for a Necromancer. How fitting. Next? A necroplasm- unable to be saved or changed back to your original form.

“Are you okay?”

You look numbly in the direction of the Spawn Monster and their eyes look worried for you- your eyes are filled with angry tears, you can barely see them through your vision.

“No,” you choke, “I feel violated. I feel….

“I feel unworthy,” you whisper, admitting it outloud, “I feel disgusting.”

“We understand,” the spawn monster gives you a smile, “but you are going to get out of here and that will never happen to you again.”

You just shake your head, crying harder.

“I don’t know if I care anymore,” you sob, “I don’t want to go through that again- I can’t. He’s going to change me into, into-“

One of the creatures he showed you slimes by and it eats up the dripping ectoplasm on the ground like a starved dog- bones being stretched apart. The creature looks you in the eyes as if it knows and it lets out a wailing scream. You barely scoot out of the way in time before it’s limbs make it through your cage- a starving look in it’s eyes.”

“Shhhhh,” Dalyria’s voice soothes you, “you won’t go through it again- you will be okay. He’s coming as fast as he can.”

The spawn monster, as horrific as it is, leans up against the part of the cage that is close to yours- offering a hand. You crawl over and reach for it like a child- the creature, the remainder of people you care for, try to soothe you by running their thumb over your hand and keep telling you it’s going to be okay. That you are not allowed to give up any hope.

And that Astarion is on his way.

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Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

Special thanks to @davenswitcher thank you for helping me brain storm 💜

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