#in all seriousness I swear his eyes were staring at the fourth wall in like half of his appearances in this game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cerinefalls · 3 years

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𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝒹

An Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: On the way back to UA after a weekend of field training, the bus breaks down. Luckily for classes 1A and 1B, Vlad was able to find you rooms! Unluckily for everyone, it was not a big hotel. Time to share, and your roommate was... you guessed it; Izuku Midoriya! Good thing, too, because you're not feeling too good.

Other Parts: Shoto Todoroki

Content: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Suggestive Themes

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You wandered down the halls near aimlessly as you searched for your room. It shouldn't have been so hard to find a room in a hotel, but unfortunately for you, this place had no order. Room 412 should've been right between 410 and 414, but in its place was room 416. Was your room even located on the fourth floor? You were unsure at this point.

"Four twelve... four twelve... four twelve... It should be here, but these aren't in numerical order. Maybe if I retrace my steps, I'll see that I missed something! No, these aren't in order either. Are villains trying to disorient us? Maybe I'm thinking too hard... " You overheard a familiar voice muttering down the hall. It was nearing you, but you couldn't point out exactly who it was.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the voice gradually got louder. Soon, it sounded like it was right in front of you. It was right in front of you! You bumped into the source of the sound and nearly fell backward. That was an oddly soft wall you'd run into.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you, I swear! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I-" Now you knew who it was. Who else went on and on that way? It had to be Deku.

"No- I'm fine, Midoriya." You brushed off whatever initial shock you'd felt and stood up straight again. "You said 412?" The room. That was your room, and if he'd seen it, you needed to know where.

"What? Oh, the woman at the desk told me to look for room 412, but I can't find it anywhere." Izuku replied to you without hesitation. His brain was running at full capacity at all times, after all.

"She did? That's my room too. Can we look together?" You'd been grouped with Midoriya? That was unexpected. You'd expected someone like him to end up with Bakugo or Todoroki, but it looked like he was stuck with you. You didn't know him too well, but he probably didn't mind.

"Yeah! This must be a test." He nodded, accepting your offer. Was he always thinking about hero work? That looked like what the hero course did to them all.

The two of you spent minute after minute hauling luggage around the fourth floor. After a while, Izuku offered to take your bags for you. You declined- but were starting to wish you hadn't. Double-checking, triple-checking- nothing provided results, and it was beginning to tire you.

"Maybe it's on another floor?" You pitched your idea to the now pacing and muttering mess of a boy. He'd hardly heard you through his thick thought bubble.

"Of course! If all of these are out of order, there's no telling how disorienting the next floors are. It must be somewhere else!" Had he seriously not considered that before? You hesitated to tell him because you thought he'd already checked the other floors. Then again, this wouldn't be the first time someone had to suggest something obvious to him.

Izuku led you to the elevator and pressed the button to move down a floor. One floor at a time, that's how you'd do it. The wait was long, and Midoriya appeared lost in thought the entire time. Soon, the quiet elevator ride lowered you to the third floor.

"Alright, let's check around here for the-"

"I found it!" Midoriya interrupted you with his outburst from slightly down the hall. Sure enough, on the 3rd floor, 412 was sat between 310 and 314. It made you wonder what happened to room 312.

Never mind any of your questions or concerns, it was time to sit! Finally, after all that time training, you got to sit on a sturdy piece of furniture. The odd circumstances didn't even cross your mind as you rushed past Izuku and onto the red couch that sat against the wall in the front of your hotel room.

"You're smart," Midoriya smiled wide as he shut the door behind you. After the click of the lock settled your arrangement, he too sat on the couch at the separate end. "So it... looks like we're going to be spending the night here. I'm glad Class B's teacher was able to find us rooms." He nodded to himself.

"Me too." You nodded, stretching out. As you finished your relieving movement and turned to Izuku, you were met with an intense stare. He stopped when he noticed you looking, though. "What?" You questioned.

"Oh- nothing! It's just... your side. It's scratched," He mentioned. Right! that cut you'd gotten during practice. You'd forgotten all about it when the bus broke down. It wasn't bleeding anymore, and the pain had gone away. "Is it bad?" Izuku sounded concerned.

"No! Just a silly surface wound. I'm sure it'll be fine once we get to recovery girl." You responded fine, but Izuku did not seem to agree with you. He looked worried, face sporting a frown.

"You should really make sure it gets cleaned and patched up." He stood up and walked towards the bathroom, opening the door and disappearing inside. For a while. you wondered why. What was he doing in there? All that rustling and banging had to mean something.

"They didn't really have bandages, so I-" Eventually, your questions were answered. Izuku exited the bathroom with a first-aid kit and... other things.

"Bandages? I'm not bleeding." You tilted your head a few times, trying to see what he'd come up with. Deku was surely one to know how to wrap wounds, so it couldn't have been anything outrageous.

"You were! It's important to keep it sealed, even if you aren't bleeding anymore." The reason this green-haired boy was panicking was unannounced to you, but in midst of his worry, he made a good point. Who knew what lurked in this hotel? An infection was the last thing you needed.

"Well... alright, Midoriya. How do you plan on helping this, though?" You asked, agreeing to let him help you. Izuku smiled wryly before pulling from behind him a... roll of toilet paper?

"The toiletries here aren't soft and crumbly. They're sort of like... paper. This can make a good temporary bandage when used correctly." His smile was unsure- almost as if he wanted you to fact-check him. You nodded to say you trusted him, but as for the quality of his information? Well, nobody knows.

"Okay... and how do you expect to get that to stick?" You could ask Sero- but, other than that, all options looked to be off the table.

"The first aid kit doesn't have gauze, but it does have some tape left! Skin-safe, of course!" His smile looked more sure now. It faded as he began to put together his makeshift bandaging. He looked focused as he wiped your skin clean with alcohol pads and waved them dry.

He seemed focussed- not on the process- but on keeping you comfortable. Izuku knew he had the ability to hurt you if he wasn't careful, because even though you'd felt fine before, you flinched each time he pressed around the cuts. They were not completely healed, after all.

"Normally, I'd tell you to go take a shower..." He spoke under his breath, tape holder securely between his teeth as he tore pieces to use. "But, because of how these are... I know it'll hurt if you do." Midoriya gently secured a large, doubled-over section of toilet paper to your side. He was right to say the texture was that of paper because you would surely hate to wipe with what he'd placed on you.

"But, shouldn't I shower anyway? We were training, and..." You tried to finish your sentence, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to when you noticed Izuku lost in thought. He was staring at your waist, your top moved with one of his hands as the other carefully ran across the 'bandaging' he'd just applied.

"Might need another layer..." He mumbled, not paying all too much attention to what you said- until you called him, that is.

"Izuku?" You leaned as close to eye level with him as you could and it startled him.

"Oh- sorry!" Whether it was his name or the sharp eye contact that drew his attention was unknown. What you did know was that he'd quickly backed away from you, unhanding your clothes and swiping your side a bit as he stumbled backward on the couch. You tried not to let him know it'd hurt, but you couldn't help the instinctual jolt away from him that followed. "Did I- oh no, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I was just scared I was making you uncomfortable and then you looked at me and you said my name and I got scared and..." He... was... mumbling to himself again.

"Midoriya, it's fine. I was just-" You attempted to calm him down, but he was too far gone. It appeared his stunt of focus was interrupted by his feeling of embarrassment. Maybe you should try his first name again? "...Izuku?" It worked! His muttering paused and he looked up at you. His expression was unreadable for a moment.

"You said it again..." He sat up and paused, clearly trying to deduce something. Was that seriously all it took to calm him down?

"Said... what?" You questioned, holding a hand to the throbbing pain on your midsection. He had a harder hit than you thought he would- especially for an accident. He must've really sought to keep a light hand before.

"My... name. I'm sorry if that sounds odd! It's just..." He looked away from you, not without glancing at the hand you held to your side. "Ever since Kacchan and I got to UA... Well, I guess I didn't realize people knew my name." That was true. Bakugo had given Izuku that nickname, and it spread like a rash. Midoriya was strong to have flipped it to be his hero name. Ever since then, no one had called him by anything but Deku or Midoriya.

"I hope I'm not crossing any lines by using it- it just seemed to capture your attention." Your response was direct and apologetic.

"It's not that," Midoriya shook his head. "I have no problem with it! It's just... new." He mustered another smile and met your eyes again. You quickly moved your hand but you knew he'd seen it. Your intention wasn't to make him feel bad! It just hurt, was all.

"Well, Izuku... how about we go to sleep? It's getting late," You tested him. His smile formed more properly this time!

"Yes, but I really should add another layer or two to that. I wouldn't want it to tear in your sleep." He was calm enough to say that without flustering himself. Perhaps the same focus he had earlier had returned? No, that wasn't it.

The look in his eyes as he carefully followed the same process he had before matched the look there was during training today. He wasn't just focused on helping you- he was in a hero's mindset. It would've been endearing had you not known about his crippling hero complex.

Nevermind that.

Once Izuku had finished putting a more cushiony layer over your midriff, he backed away to view what he'd done. He seemed proud of himself. Rightfully so! Because he'd truly done his best in this endeavor.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" He moved the hand he'd used to hold up your top down to your waist, his second hand doing the same on the opposite side. Midoriya applied a gentle amount of pressure with both hands, and shockingly, it didn't hurt at all!

"Wow... it... doesn't-" You shook your head and looked down at his hands. It was a bit interesting- looking at him. He still resembled an entirely different state of mind as he sat there tending to you. After a couple more squeezes, though, your own mind wandered.

You attempted to fight it by taking a more literal view of things. You looked first at his arms. They were freckled splotchily. It was an interesting pattern in contrast to the multitude of horizontal scars on his hands. His hands... you couldn't quite see them. The fabric of your shirt had completely fallen over top of them as he continued to pressure check. This method of literal examination only worked for as long as you could focus on it, though. Once Izuku began gently dragging his hands up and down your midsection to check for sturdiness, that strategy was less effective.

"It's not slipping... I think you're good for tonight. Let me know... if it... gets..." As Midoriya lifted his head to make proper eye contact while he spoke, he noticed an all-too-familiar expression on your face. Heat had risen to your cheeks, and you were clearly averting your eyes from his own. Had he made you... nervous? He wasn't sure, but it seemed you were timid in comparison to earlier. Izuku slowly removed his hands from under your shirt and placed them on your knees, watching you closely. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice saturated in concern.

"I'm fine! Nothing's wrong." You brushed off his concern, though you were still twiddling around. "You said it seems alright?" You aimed to change the subject. It was time for bed anyway! Midoriya had to be exhausted from today's training, after all.

"Yes... I applied about as much pressure as a mattress would and you didn't flinch. I think you'll be alright to sleep," He nodded. Would you be able to get him back to his usual mindset any time soon? It was beginning to get uncomfortable– usually, Deku was the one getting flustered, but right now he was calm and you were the one stumbling over yourself.

All you could do was nod. Eventually, Midoriya backed away from you to allow you to change. It was just the break you needed. You walked into the bedroom with your bag and pulled out your bedclothes. You were met with a shock when you turned to put them on, though.

"That can't be right..." You said that louder than you'd meant to. Who wouldn't, though? This was a room for two people, wasn't it?

"Is everything okay in here?" Midoriya was approaching, but you didn't hear him entirely. You wished he'd knocked when he entered, though. Izuku walked in on you with your shirt hanging from your neck. You rushed to put it back on, slipping it onto your arms as he stepped forward.

"Only... one?" He questioned. It seemed he hadn't noticed you. It wasn't surprising because the two of you were confused about the same thing. Be it some twist of fate, or some odd plot device– the sight in front of you was absurd. There was only one bed.

"I'm sure this is a mistake. I mean, our room was on the wrong floor," You mentioned.

"You're right... but, I don't think we can do anything about it." Midoriya was shifting from foot to foot behind you. "I should sleep on the couch! You're injured, and I don't want you to get hurt any more than you are." The way he spoke was not that of his usual self. He still sounded like he was thinking tactically as opposed to how he normally would.

"No! I mean- no. Izuku, you can stay in here." You looked at the bed once again. There may have only been one- but it was huge! No reason for him to sleep on the couch at all. "Even so, what if I do get hurt? I'd rather you be here to help me." Were you doubting his toilet paper bandages?

...You were. You were doubting his toilet paper bandages.

"I-" Had you finally choked him up? Gotten at least some Midoriya-like response? You had! For once, you managed to make him think about the situation. You didn't know why, but for some reason, you were pleased by it.

"You..?" You prodded.

"Well! I suppose you may be right..." He was looking away from you now, rocking back and forth. You'd gotten him just as nervous as he'd had you. Midoriya was clearly trying to rationalize what you'd said. You were correct- his creation was his creation. If it tore or fell off, he would have to be the one to replace it. So it was settled. Midoriya would sleep on one end, you on the other.

You attempted to change your clothes once Izuku had left but soon noticed that would be more difficult than planned. When you attempted to lift your arms over your head, you felt a painful sting around you. You could hear his pacing around come to a stop when you audibly expressed distress. You'd just gotten your shirt off fine! Why was the wound hurting now?

Things began to make sense over time, though. You'd encountered a villain with no flashy or visible quirk– but they'd hit you with something unique to them. That kitty had claws, and it was looking like they'd hit you with a concealed weapon.

"Are you okay!?" Izuku rushed in soon after you'd realized what was going on. He sounded remarkably worried. Perhaps your cry of pain was louder than you'd thought...

"I'm fine... I think." You had to sit down. The more time that passed, the more painful things became. "I don't think that villain I fought had a mutant quirk..." You huffed, eyes watery. It was only downhill from here.

"Really? Did I jot it down wrong? What's happening?" He was frantic in his efforts to gather information. Midoriya sat down on the side of you that wasn't injured to avoid hurting you.

"The more... I move..." You were slowly growing out of breath. Were you panicking yourself? It felt as though maybe the venomous scratches raked harder with the rise and fall of your chest. "I don't know... I was fine until I tried to move my arms... maybe I did it too fast?"

"Oh no this is bad... the only time I've seen a quirk like this was..." No need to type out all of his panic-filled sentences. Long story short, he felt a bit responsible for your pain. You hadn't started hurting until he tried to fix it, after all.

"Izuku, I don't care." You began to steady your breathing so that you could talk to him properly, though you still sounded strained. "I just want to go to sleep, and I won't be able to get there on my own." If he really felt he was at fault, he'd likely oblige to helping you. You at least hoped he would, because the pain you felt only got worse when you attempted to care for yourself.

"Are you sure?" He sounded worried again now; not for you, but his skills. It was much like the worry he'd harbored while bandaging you. If he was not careful now, he could really hurt you. His ceaseless trembling made his unease all the more clear, and you all the more impatient.

"Hey- just think of it how you did last time. You know... like you're being a hero?" You mentioned his earlier attitude, and almost like a lightbulb had been lit, he changed his demeanor.

"I was acting like that? I'm sorry- I didn't notice." He stood up and stepped in front of you. "But, if it helped... I guess I could do it again." Izuku was visibly trying to switch attitudes again. It did not take long. Soon, he was mumbling things he noticed about the quirk's effect on you while looking for a place to start. Now, you felt the same hands that'd helped wrap you on your sides once again. This time, though, he was focused on your clothes.

"That's your pajama shirt over there, right?" He asked, voice wary. For a second you were unsure why.

"Yes, that's the one. Could you bring it to me?" You replied simply. If you kept a work-based mindset, it would help him maintain one as well.

"Of course! But, well... I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you shouldn't put it on on your own..." Though he was attempting to remain professional, he couldn't help the tint that covered his cheeks. This was embarrassing. "I'll look away! Only one of us needs to see for me to help you, right?" He was starting to let the fear seep through his voice. You brushed it off to save his pride.

You just nodded, assuming it'd work. It did work! Though you couldn't focus the entire time. Izuku ran his hands down the sides of your top, grabbing the bottom hem gently. He did his best not to bump into you or cause you to move more than you had to, knowing it'd be painful.

It was hard to get your arms up, but you did it for as long as you could while Midoriya slid off your day clothes and neatly fixed your bed shirt atop of you. Once he'd let it down, he helped you bring your arms down and laid you on the bed.

"I promise to stay close so you can call me if you need to. Only if you want to, that is! I don't know how long the effects of that quirk will last, so..." Whatever the effects were. It was a bit hard to tell. As you laid still, the pain from before began to subside. Sure enough, you were just fine to lay on the bed. Neither side of you caused trouble–

That is until you chose to remove the bottoms you'd been wearing. It was a tad warm with another person in bed, and you were under the covers anyhow. It shouldn't have mattered! Sadly for you, though, the last bit of stretch you needed to move them past your hips was too much for your body to handle. Perhaps the bend in your midsection was what caused the quirk to activate? Every time you moved your core, venomous stings prickled throughout your body. Izuku felt the sheets rustling and turned over to check on you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting up on his forearm to look over you. You stopped moving, a wise decision, and cleared your throat to respond to him.

"Well, I was trying to get comfortable, and..." Your sentence trailed as you began to think this was nothing worth troubling him with. "It's nothing, Izuku. Just a little pain."

"Well, how can I help?" He sounded once again concerned, and you could feel him sitting up behind you.

"No ways you'd want to! Don't worry about it, really." You insisted, but he insisted harder. It took quite some time, but eventually, he broke you into telling him the issue. Midoriya was clearly rattled, but he also dispensed a strange look of determination. He did tell you he would be there to help you, and he was determined to live up to his word. A hero may be put in uncomfortable situations after all.

After a long list of questions asking for consent to help you with your... specific problem, he raised enough courage to scoot behind you and begin his assistance. What happened next nearly stunned you. Izuku did his best not to move you as he gently slid his left hand beneath your hips. He felt around for a moment, and you could almost hear him panicking when he couldn't find the top seem of your pants. He decided it'd be best to find the top using his other hand, and so shortly after you found his right hand slinking fingers around your waist and traveling down to your thigh.

Your face burned as he continued to feel around for your clothes. Eventually, he found what he thought to be the hook he was looking for. As he pulled and you shifted backward into him to stop the fabric from moving, he realized he'd picked the wrong thing.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to- oh this is bad. I'm so so sorry, I didn't know that was there and I-" Boy was he good at talking. You shushed him quickly, though, feeling well enough to use your own hand to guid his down to where your bottoms really were. You attempted not to squirm as he carefully pulled them past your thighs and got them off of your feet.

"Thank you." You smiled, sporting a grateful expression. The both of you were thankful it was dark, because each of you had blushed faces due to what'd happened under the covers.

"You're very welcome." Deku sounded distant when he replied. He attempted to act as normal as possible, but the air in the room was thick enough to suffocate you. Today was eventful to say the very least.

"Hey, Izuku?" You called him, hoping you could surface his mind.

"Oh- yes?" He sounded attentive enough.

"Let's.. go to bed, yeah?"

"That... is a great idea."

In the stoic silence of your room you eventually found yourself drifting into sleep. Izuku hadn't moved his hands from around your waist when he brought them up from your legs. You were glad, because had he made any sudden movements in his startled state he would've done more harm than good. It wasn't like the position of his hands was uncomfortable, either. Soon enough, both of you were unconscious. It would be a shame if someone walked in that night... oh well. Not like they could find the room.

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 18 - Part XVII - Agatha's Memories (Part One)

Gif is not mine, but Pinterest would let me give credits to the gif maker, so bless you wherever you are friend.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: mentions of violence, manipulation of will and consent.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 18 - Part XVII - Agatha's Memories (Part One)

You thought you were going to fall asleep for a long time.

But as soon as your eyes closed, you felt the urge to open them again, as if being pulled out of your rest. The same feeling of being woken up in the middle of a dream.

“Wanda?” You called as soon as you saw around, and she was already next to you, her hand on your face, smiling gently as she helped you stand still. “Where are we?”

“Agatha’s memories I think.” She said and you followed her eyes, only now realizing it was Hogwarts where you two were. You recognize the corridor from the seventh floor, because of the positions of the towers outside. “We should go this way, follow the fire.”

You notice that only the candles in that direction were on, so you nod, Wanda kept her hand on yours all the way to the small door ajar at the end of the wall.

Inside, it was not empty. Wanda got in first, as if checking if anything would happen if she interrupted it, but it was just a memory, and it continued to happen as if you two were not there.

“Dad.” You whisper in shock as you step in. Your father was sitting in one of the chairs, a ravenclaw tie loosened in his neck, a curious look on his face. He was about your age.

But the grip on your hand tightens, and you then realize the other wizards inside as well.

Erik, covered in soot just like your dad, had his wand in hands, and Agatha in the front of the room.

The witch stood with her arms crossed, a disapproving look on her face. And you noticed that the boys were crestfallen, and understood that they had just been caught.

"Sorry for the delay, Agatha, I came as soon as I got your note." Said a male voice behind you, and you held your breath as you looked.

It was Mephisto, but he looked nothing like the scary man in the long cape and red eyes you are familiar with. He was just an adult with dark brown eyes, a stern look, and a tired face. He wore the clothes of his time, but on his necktie he had a hydra's brooch.

"No problem, Faustus." Agatha assured with a smile as the man walked in and closed the door. "Mr. Stark and Mr. Lehnsherr didn't mind waiting."

"What happened to your robes, boys?" Mephisto asked them curiously, and Erik, who was cleaning his wand on his cloak, replied first.

"A little accident, sir." He answered almost shyly. It was strange to see him like that, so young. "Howie and I are very sorry for the mess."

"Apologies are not enough, Mr. Lehnsherr." Agatha warns seriously. "If I hadn't interrupted the experiment, you guys would have blown up the whole floor."

"But we are sorry, Mrs. Harkness." Repeated your father, but he didn't seem to be really upset.

"When I gave you permission to continue with your research after what happened in the fourth year, I trusted that you would never again risk the safety of your colleagues, gentlemen." Agatha continued firmly. "I am beginning to rethink my decision."

"No!" Erik and Howard exclaimed together, which caused Agatha to raise her eyebrow. Your father cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Please, Headmistress. It was just this once, and it was for a good reason!" He declares looking suddenly excited. "We found something!"

Your father hurried to reach the back of the room, and only now did you notice the molten metal studded in the wall, as if something had exploded there a few minutes ago.

"The map, Miss Harkness, did not show this part of the castle." He told with a smile, touching the wall. "Erik and I wanted to find out why. But we couldn't break the wall with spells, so we tried using a machine."

Agatha sighed, massaging her temple as Mephisto smiled at the whole scene. "You two and your antics with metal." He commented casually, and you were almost startled by the whole thing. The greatest dark wizard of all time, smiling tenderly at two students.

"What did you find, boys?" He asked curiously, and your father hurried to pull the metal out of the wall, and with some effort, a large hole was exposed in the concrete.

"I don't know what's in there, but it's not an empty room." Howard says. "And every time we peek in it seems to turn into something else."

"What are you waiting for?" Mephisto asks excitedly. "Let's go in."

Whatever your father had built was destroyed by a powerful spell, and melted against the wall. So Agatha and Mephisto recited some incantations together against the wall, and the hole opened up into a door.

And you widened your eyes.

"Wanda, is that the...?"

"Room of Requirement" She concluded as shocked as you were, walking to keep up with the wizards who were hurrying into the place.

And unlike the living room you knew, or the dueling room Wanda was familiar with from the order, the room of requirement was completely different. It was dark, and crowded. Piles and piles of the most diverse objects scattered around, like a magical garbage dump. But it wasn't junk at all.

It was books, shiny objects, all sorts of things. You think you even saw a chest of gold before you turned your attention to the group in front of you, stunned by such a discovery.

" Impressive, boys." Agatha commented almost proudly, and then assumed a serious expression. "Go back to your dormitories now".

"But, Professor-" They started together but Agatha looked at them with repression, gesturing.

"We don't know the origin of the items in that place, gentlemen." She clarified. "The teachers will ascertain that there is nothing here that could injure them. If there is no danger, you, as well as the rest of the school, will be allowed to be here. But for now, back to your dorms, or you will receive a month's detention."

The boys were upset, and you swallowed dryly at the image of your father sulking like a kid. Or better yet, he really was. Just a kid.

Your gaze followed him as he walked out beside Erik, the two of them whispering softly, and you sighed, feeling your eyes fill with tears watching him go. Wanda wiped away the tear that ran down, looking at you tenderly.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked but you just nodded, grateful for her touch. Your father is dead, and this is no time to try to cling to another witch's memories of him.

"Yes, let's keep going." You said kissing her palm on your cheek before intertwining your hands, turning your attention back to the memory.

Without the boys, you noticed that Mephisto's posture changed.

He looked nervous, or perhaps almost fascinated by everything around him, as if he didn't know what to touch first.

"Faustus, where do we start?" Agatha asked next, as impressed as he was, looking around at the piles.

Mephisto seemed almost surprised at her speech. "I thought you were going to call the rest of the faculty, Agatha."

The witch laughed lightly. "And risk them agreeing to censor this place? No way. You and I will take a peek first. Collect anything that has the appearance of something the ministry of magic could ban."

You jumped in fright when someone tapped your shoulder, instinctively covering Wanda, but it was only Agatha. The real one, with a friendly posture.

"That was my mistake, children." She says nostalgically, watching the memory as well. "I should have called the teachers."

"What did you find here, Agatha?" Wanda asked a moment later, when you stood back upright as you recovered from your fright.

"Everything."

The memory around you trembled, as if Agatha decided to change it to hurry things. Soon, you find yourself staring at the image of her and Mephisto sitting in front of a table, in what you reckon was his office.

“It’s strange, Agatha.” The man said. “All pages are blank, but I can sense the magic.”

“Tried any remove concealment spells?” Agatha asked as Mephisto agreed, looking frustrated as both of them gazed at the open book at the table.

Agatha leaned over to reach an inkwell, knocking over the paper. She smiled as the ink vanished.

“See, it’s absorbing it.” She says. “So you just gonna give something in return for him to provide your answers.”

Mephisto laughs lightly, commenting that Agatha always found a way to surprise him. You wanted to throw up.

He took his wand from his jacket, and held it out to his own hand, cutting it as he leaned toward the book.

As his blood dripped onto the pages, the paper filled with ink, and the sorcerers let out contented exclamations.

"The book of the damned." Mephisto read it carefully, and then smiled at Agatha. "Sounds promising."

"I'll bet you three galleons it's ritualistic magic." The witch retorted, making the other laugh.

"Five galleons that it's alchemy." He replied smiling before turning his attention back to the book.

Before you could comment on your indignation at seeing them bet on something so absurd, the memory changed again.

You and Wanda had watched the flashes of the two sorcerers studying in that room, reading the darkhold, and other books as well. Sometimes they would leave, probably to teach their classes, but would return to their reading. You saw the moon appear several times in the window, and counted at least fourteen nights before the memory stabilized in front of you again.

Agatha looked nervous, crossing her arms as she stared at Mephisto.

"I just think there's something strange going on, Faustus!" She spoke up, but only received a bored expression. "The dead unicorns in the forest, the blood moon! I'm worried about the students."

"You are just scared, Agatha!" He sneered cruelly. "We finally found something worthwhile in this castle! We can't stop now."

But Agatha frowned, "Hogwarts has always been worthwhile to me, Faustus. I made it clear to you when we started this, that I wasn't going to do anything that would put the school at risk."

"It's only a castle, Agatha!" He retorts impatiently. "Old stones piled up. Stop acting like it's the holiest place in the world. What we find here, what's in that book, in those chests, is more than any other sorcerer has ever found. It is something from the ancients, things that Merlin would doubt."

"Merlin is dead, Faustus." Agatha retorted, looking at her friend with a neutral expression. "And I don't intend to have the same fate. I want to live. Like Morgana did."

Mephisto rolled his eyes. "Death doesn't have to be the end, old friend."

Agatha frowned in confusion, and Mephisto moved to reach the darkhold on the highest shelf. "We both won the bet after all. But I found more. Here look, Agatha. It's necromancy."

The witch stared wide-eyed, taking a step back as soon as Mephisto held out the item to her.

"I don't study this kind of thing, Faustus." She said in shock, which made Mephisto laugh incredulously.

"Don't give me puritism, now, Agatha." He retorted still with the book open in his arm. "How many rituals have you performed? Necromancy is the exact same with a little more power."

Agatha shook her head. "Crossing the line of death condemns the witch to-"

"To eternal suffering?" He interrupted in mockery. "What is that, Agatha? Pagan Christianity? You're hanging out too much with those mudbloods."

The principal clenched her jaw. "Don't forget I'm a half-blood, Faustus."

But the wizard only rolled his eyes. "Muggles talk about hell, and heaven like they know any shit about magic. Fools. They and all witches who bow to myths like those. I do not need to fear any punishment if I never die."

"Everything that lives must die, Faustus." Agatha retorted seriously. "You can't change that, no matter how hard you try. And you are not the first to do so."

Mephisto rolled his eyes, and assumed a defensive posture. "I'll be the first to succeed then, Agatha."

"Fau-"

But they are interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mephisto quickly hides the book behind his body.

You are surprised to see Thor's father, and your former Astronomy teacher, Odin, enter. And he looked disturbed.

"Headmistress, professor, sorry for the intrusion." He speaks hurriedly. "We need help downstairs, it's the Lehnsherr girl."

Your frown, and the memory changed just as the teachers rushed to leave the room.

When the image stabilized again, you felt Wanda squeeze your hand to get your attention.

"Y/N, it's my Aunt Raven." She spoke over the girl lying on the ward bed in front of you two.

"What happened to her?" Agatha asks the group around you. You are startled when you notice your father standing right next to you.

"I don't know, professor." It is Erik who answers with desperation. "We were playing Quiddicht, and Ray dived in to get the snitch. But her eyes started glowing and she fell."

An orange-eyed black woman you didn't know approached, and you imagined she was the healer of that time. Agatha turned to her immediately.

“Katherine, do you know what’s wrong?” Agatha asked worried but the woman shook her head, moving quickly to put the basin of hot water on the headboard beside Raven's bed, and wet a towel she placed on the girl's forehead, making you understand that she must have had a fever.

"It's dark magic, principal, that I'm sure of." The nurse replied. "The girl has marks on her back, but the boys couldn't tell if she messed with something she shouldn't have."

You noticed the look Erik exchanged with Agatha, but neither he nor the principal said anything.

"What kind of enchantment is it?" Mephisto asked, but unlike Agatha's worried tone, he seemed almost in a hurry to get out of there right away.

"I don't know, professor-"

"What kind of healer are you, Fury?" he interjected angrily, shocking those present for a brief second, before Agatha pulled him by the forearm away, almost at the door in the infirmary.

"Don't you dare talk to my employees like that, Faustus." She warns between teeth, but the man looks impatient.

"She needs to find out what's wrong here, Agatha." He retorts without caring about her previous words. "If the girl goes to St.Mungus, it will raise questions. And I know you don't want the ministry going through your drawers."

Agatha squinted her eyes at him, being quiet for a moment.

"Miss Lehnsherr is part of your potions club, Faustus." She begins. " Do you have any idea if she has tried some potion she shouldn't have?"

The man clenches his jaw, but his pallor betrays him, and both you and Wanda and Agatha realize this.

"Don't be ridiculous." He says offended, but keeps his tone low so as not to be heard by the others. "I have nothing to do with it."

"I think that better be true, Faustus." It is Agatha's last warning before she turns back to Raven, and the memory changes again.

You almost lost your balance this time, as you appeared on a staircase, but Wanda held you by the waist, and you shyly turned to her.

Pushing away any thoughts inappropriate for the moment, you turned your attention to the boy a few feet away, who was climbing the steps, but stopped when Agatha called out to him.

"Yes, Professor?" Erik asked, sounding troubled.

"It's about your sister, Mr. Lehnsherr." Agatha says, and lowers her tone as she leans in. "I need to ask you something, and you need to be honest."

Erik nods frantically, a mixture of curiosity and concern in his gaze.

"Kat-Mrs. Fury." Agatha corrected herself before continuing. "She investigated the marks on Raven's back. They are claw marks, Erik. Werewolf claws."

Erik clenched his jaw, and looked down at the floor.

"Professor I-"

"Don't lie, Erik." She asks seriously. "I'll know if you do. What I need to find out is how there is a werewolf inside the castle."

"It wasn't a werewolf, Professor." He says and then takes a deep breath, looking up at the top of the school, as if checking to see if they really were alone. "It was a big wolf, but not a werewolf. It was an animagus."

Agatha frowns, and Erik continues. "Please, professor, apologize to me in advance, I shouldn't have agreed to this whole story." He starts nervously. "B-but Howey thought we wouldn't have any problems if we did everything right, but then Professor Faustus found out and told us our secret was safe and-"

"What are you talking about, Erik?"

Wanda's father swallowed dryly, but looked at Agatha. "Howey and I thought it was unfair for you to forbid us to continue studying wizard mechanics in the castle after we found the treasure room for you. So we decided to continue studying elsewhere."

Agatha clenched her jaw, but Erik kept talking.

"We tried the forbidden forest, but Howey pissed off the acromantulas." He counters with a guilty look. "Professor Faustus was in the forest, and he saved our asses. He said he would keep our secret if we kept his."

"What is Faustus' secret?" Agatha asked immediately, and Erik looked away to the ground.

"I don't judge, and I didn't understand why, but the professor was drinking unicorn blood." He counters. "I found him on top of the poor animal, it looked like a vampire. He told us he was sick."

Agatha sighs, closing her eyes for a moment.

“What else, Erik?”

“He said that you knew the castle too much, you knew every creature.” The boy continues. “Professor Faustus suggested we learn how to hide inside the forest. But we didn’t know any spells like this, so he taught us about animagi.”

Agatha bited her lip thoughtfully, waiting for Erik to continue.

“He helped us with everything, the spells, the potions.” He added. “And my sister joined us as well, and honestly, Ray is way better at this than us. When we finally did it, professor Faustus was impressed but he kind of kept us apart, and only seemed interested in talking to Ray about it, probably because she can turn into any animal she wants now.”

The professor widened her eyes to this. “Really?” She asks impressed, but quickly converts to a more impassive expression. “What about you and Mister Stark?”

“Just one.” He says and you realize that he doesn’t want to actually share what animal he and your dad can turn into so Agatha won’t know. And the headmistress doesn't ask further either.

She just takes a deep breath, and straightens her posture. “I decided to ban the experiments because the safety of your colleagues has been compromised, Erik. And clearly I was right.”

Erik seemed really embarrassed as he had thick tears in his eyes. “We didn’t mean any harm, professor.”

“Intentions don’t really matter now, do they, mister Lehnsherr?” She accuse with sarcasm, but she sighs, returning to a more friendly posture. “How did Raven get the marks?”

“We were playing quidditch in the florest, professor.” The boy tells with hesitation. “But Howey and I were trying different things, new enchantments to make the game more fun. A faster golden snitch and a bludger that can part into three when hitted correctly. Stuff we could sell once we leave Hogwarts.” He clarifies.

“As if Quidditch is not dangerous enough.” Wanda mutters to you, making you smile.

“But we lost the snitch in the woods.” Erik continues. “And of course we couldn't leave it there, it was our first prototype. So we turned into animals, but something got wrong. With me.”

“What Erik?”

“He lost his consciousness.” It was not Erik who answered but your dad, coming from the stair behind you. He looked upset, his eyes matched yours and you felt your heart race, even though you knew he was just seing Erik. “Good afternoon, professor.”

“Howey-”

“It’s okay, Erik.” Your dad says with a smile. “It is also your secret to share, and maybe we took this too far.”

“I expected you two to clarify this soon before I expelled you both.” Agatha cuts the conversation quickly, looking impatily. Your dad takes another step.

“It was the blood moon, professor.” He said. “It messed with our heads. I got nauseous, almost passed out when I transfigured myself. But Erik lost his mind entirely. Ray was better at this than us, but she also got a bit slow, I think. That’s how Erik got to her.”

“We fought, professor.” Erik clarified, almost disgusted with himself. “I attacked her like an animal.”

“And then?”

“We didn’t know what to do! It was a secret, so I ran straight to professor Faustus' office.” Erik says. “He came back to the forest, and when he saw Ray he said he would help. I don’t know how he did it, but she was fine for weeks. Until today, we’re playing and this happened.” He explains. “I was going to tell you everything back there. B-but professor Fastus whispered in my head to be quiet about the animagi.”

Agatha sighs, massaging her temples. “Great, fucking great.” She whispered to herself, then turned back to the boys. "That 's all?”

As they both nod, Agatha climbs the steps. "Go back to your dorms, I appreciate your honesty."

While the memory faded, you turned as you heard someone move next to you. It was Agatha, the real one.

“Please tell me you fired him after that.” You say to her but she just smirks, gesturing with her head for you and Wanda to look forward.

This time, it’s not Hogwarts. But a bar you have only been to once, the Hog’s Head Inn.

“Our interests are at odds, my friend." Agatha says in a warning tone to the wizard sitting across from her. "Faustus, don't make things harder for us, think of our friendship."

You notice that Mephisto now looks more like the wizard you know. His longer hair and scruffy beard give him a more grim-faced appearance, the dark marks under his eye and the bumps of his bones in his cheeks give him an anemic and sickly look. You deduce that it is the excess consumption of the darkhold.

He gives the teacher a humorless laugh, coughing lightly, and Agatha raises her eyebrow. "We were never friends, Harkness." He retorts. "We had an academic arrangement. And I'm just a professor in your fairy-tale castle."

"That's not true, Faustus." Agatha tries, but Mephisto just runs his hand across his face, throwing his hair back, and you notice the dark marks on his neck, his veins.

"He was dying." Wanda whispers beside you, noticing as well. "The book was killing him, Y/N."

"Exactly, Miss Maximoff." The real Agatha speaks next to you, the memory muffled as if you were underwater, the conversation no longer audible. "And so close to death, people begin to despair."

“I told you I was sorry about hiding the animagi issue, Agatha. Please do not bring up this subject again.” He says. Agatha reaches for his head over the table.

“Do not hurt my students again, Faustus.” She seriously tells him, and Mephisto looks even more tense. "Because if you do, we won't have any conversation at all."

Agatha looked ahead, and the memory changed again.

"I finally figured it out, Agatha!" You were startled when the image of Mephisto appeared so close, taking a step away.

It was a living room where you were now, and the witch had just opened the front door for the man, soaked from head to toe due to the storm outside.

You had never seen Agatha's house before, and were surprised to find that she had one, and did not live in the castle as you had assumed all these years. But these were not important questions, so you turned your attention to the memories going on around you.

"It's late, Faustus." Agatha complained, but made room for him to come in, using her wand to dry the water he brought on the floor and his clothes as well. "And it's summer. Can't this wait until we get back to Hogwarts?"

Mephisto shook his head in despair, and moved to the table in the center of the room. There, he deposited a necklace.

"It was there the whole time, Agatha." He recounted with fascination, laughing at such happiness. "I was reading, I felt feverish, but I knew I just needed some water. I tripped over the bookcase on the way, and that old hat fell off. And then the locket was at my feet." He narrates, taking the object between his fingers and placing it in the woman's field of vision. "It's his, Agatha. It belonged to Salazar Slytherin! Look at the serpent. I finally found it."

"That's..." Agatha began, touching the medallion with her fingers. "Impressive, I admit. But still, it's just a necklace, Faustus. You didn't have to come in this storm-"

"You don't understand!" He cuts in despair. "It's a worthy object, Agatha! Strong enough to guard my soul."

At that, Agatha's eyes widened in shock. " I beg your pardon?"

But Mephisto merely picked up the locket, smiling to himself, his eyes shining. "I learned how to avoid death, my friend. To conceal my soul into eternal parts, trapped in objects on this earth. I have been in search of the objects that might be strong enough to carry."

"Merlin...." Agatha whispered in horror, but Mephisto didn't even seem to be listening.

"The necklace will guard the first part." He continued. "I need to do it once to know exactly what price to pay. There are so few records about it. If the magic is not strong enough, I will repeat the spell as many times as ne-

The speech was interrupted by a loud sound. Agatha slapped him hard across the face, and the man blinked in shock for long seconds.

"You often forget who you are talking to, Faustus." Agatha says with a fury in her eyes that you have never seen before. And Mephisto clenches his jaw, but seems so in shock at the aggression that he says nothing. "You forget who I am, where I learned my magic from. I only realize now that you really don't have any respect for it."

The man assumes an almost apologetic expression, but Agatha speaks again before he can say anything.

"You think I don't know the art of necromancy?" She questions angrily. "That I have never seen a witch come back from the world of the dead? I dueled with the Inferi of Kang in the Independence of the Romanis Witches, while you were just an infant!" She squirms and Mephisto swallows dryly, looking almost ashamed. "Do you think I don't know the soul splitting spell? The atrocity that must be done? I know the price, you fool."

And then Mephisto's posture changes. He looks curious, and looks at Agatha as if he is begging.

"Tell me the price, old friend." He asks. "The book didn't tell me. I don't know how to complete the spell. Please, I need-"

The next slap seems harder than the first. But Mephisto just laughs, brushing his hair out of his face as Agatha looks at him angrily.

"I would never teach another sorcerer that magic." She declares. "Least of all to one I have once called friend."

Agatha takes a step to the side, signaling for Mephisto to leave, the door magically opens.

The wizard gives a humorless laugh, the medallion dangling from his fingers.

"You are just like everyone else, Agatha." He says as he looks at her again, but then shakes his head slightly. "Actually, I think it's even worse. Because the fools in the ministry are really stupid, but you know the magic spells. And you choose to keep them to yourself."

"If you follow through with that, I will make your words my own." Agatha says. "We won't be friends anymore, Faustus. Truly, you will be alone. And a necromancer is not welcome at Hogwarts."

"I have nothing to go on with if you won't help me." He sneers, taking a step to leave. In the rain, he turns to the witch again, with a sly smile. "But alone I always have been. That never stopped me before."

You watch him appear, and Agatha closes the door. Everything is muffled again, and you turn to the real witch who sat in one of the chairs, the sounds muted around you.

"What happened after that?" Wanda asks Agatha, who seems shaken by the memories, thoughtful. She doesn't look at the two of you, just moves her fingers.

And the sound of someone screaming makes your whole body shiver.

It is a child. She looks directly at you with a horrified look, and it takes a second for you to remember that she must be looking at something behind you.

Wanda turns around first, and the way she shakes your hand almost makes you give up looking as well.

There is the man on the ground, and you stumble away as you see the blood running near your feet, forgetting that it wasn't really going to touch you, that it was just a memory.

"This is T'Chaka, father of your herbology teacher." Agatha counters, sitting on a rock wall. You look around, but don't recognize the place.

"Where are we Agatha?" You ask, and then it occurs to you that you haven't seen the teacher anywhere.

"He used to be one of the most powerful wizards in Merlin's order." She continues, ignoring your question. "But he was gone in the snap of a finger."

You swallow dryly as you notice a man approach the body, wand in hand.

"Where are you at?" Wanda asks Agatha in confusion, and the teacher gives a sad smile.

"That memory is not mine, Miss Maximoff." She clarifies, finally standing up, and pointing in the opposite direction of the wizards, toward the village, but between the walls of the houses. "It's from the girl hiding among the bushes."

You and Wanda exchange shocked glances.

And the memory blurs around you. Agatha has her hand raised in the air. "I don't want you to put out what is in your stomachs with what he did here. Creating a horcrux is the greatest magical atrocity a wizard can commit." She says, and the memory begins to shift again. "Just know that he did it. Faustus made his first horcrux with the death of that man, almost twenty years ago in Godric's Hollow."

When everything stabilized around you again, you gasped as you recognized your garden.

“What the hell were you doing in my house Agatha?” You asked but the real one was no longer there. You were facing your front door with the memory one.

It was your grandfather who opened the door, and you felt your heart race a bit. You haven’t seen him since you’re six, maybe younger.

“Agatha!” He greeted excitedly, moving to hug the witch. “Finally, we were starting to worry you got lost, my friend!”

Your grandfather pulled her in, and you and Wanda followed the clue. The Stark mansion was all decorated with a Christmas theme, and there were at least twenty other people inside.

“I’m sorry for being late, I had a few things with the minister.” Agatha clarifies. “All those weird things going on in Scotland, he wanted a second opinion before involving the aurors. You know how mystery department employees are weird, Jöhann wanted to make sure it was the last option. Muggles get suspicious with the way they work."

The memory blurs a bit as your grandfather agrees, as if Agatha was speeding things up, and you and Wanda are able to watch the people move around, talking and partying for a minute before everything is estable again.

You both watch Agatha at the corner of the room, surrounded by three wizards you don’t know and your grandfather as well, talking so low that you suppose you’re only able to listen because Agatha was.

“They say it is a group of wizards, six of them, maybe seven.” You blink, only now realizing you do know this man. It’s Fury, but he’s different. Young, long hair. Both eyes. You think it is the cape that was covering him that made it difficult to see his face correctly. “I told the minister we should do things quietly, to avoid drawing attention, but now he’s involving the aurors, soon the rest of our community will hear about it.”

“He wanted my opinion on this, Fury.” Agatha said. “I agreed with his actions. We don’t know who is causing the murderings, and it could be a magical anomaly. The mystery departament will know what to do.”

But Fury shocked his head, leaning even more into the circle, as if about to tell a secret very important.

“It was no beast, or anomaly, my friends.” He whispers. “I had a field job with the red skulls. Despicable people if you ask me. But what matters is that they have privileges, free pass to the minister's files. They know it's a man who leads this group, there's no trace of the Imperius curse. They're there willingly, and if they're killing it's to prove something.”

“This is absurd, Fury.” It was your grandfather who said it, his tone was almost angry but the laugh on his face made Nick take a step back, as if being called a liar. “No one would dare to challenge the red skulls. I know we have our disagreements regarding our government, but what we all can agree that since the skull were formed, criminality has decreased to almost nothing. No one challenges Schmidt's aurors, either out of fear or respect. Let's not believe fairy tales about groups of evil villains killing for fun, this is not the middle ages."

But Nick Fury crossed his arms, looking at your grandfather seriously.

"It might be surprising to a man who stays locked up in his mansion to hear that crime has not decreased at all, Stark." He retorted, a tension growing in the group. "Life may have gotten better for the millionaire purebloods, but it has only gotten worse for the vast majority of wizard society, which in case you forget, is largely composed of half-bloods and muggle-born of limited money."

Your grandfather looked slightly embarrassed, but he didn't shy away, laughing ungraciously as he patted Fury on the shoulder.

"Come on, buddy, let's not spoil the party with such an unpleasant subject!" He says. "Here's what we'll do. Monday morning, I'll talk to some colleagues at the ministry. Maybe the Parkers know something. A private investigation, to avoid rumors like this. We can't let people think that both the minister and Merlin's order is losing influence, can we?"

Your grandfather, and the other witches you didn't know, left first, returning to the party, but Agatha stood next to Fury, and leaned toward him.

"Nick, ignore them." She asked in a low tone. " Is there something else you've found out?"

Fury sighed lightly. "Not yet, Agatha. But whatever is going on, it's important. I've never seen Schmidt so nervous. He can't track these wizards, and so he can't figure out what they're trying to do. And if that thing escalates, it could cause a panic."

Agatha stands thoughtfully for a moment, until she turns completely to Nick, her gaze wary. "Do you think it could be someone we know?"

Nick looks surprised, frowns a little. "Why Agatha, do you have any suspicions?"

"No, none." She says, and you know she is lying. But Nick doesn't seem to notice. "I just wanted to ask, because I think we should keep our eyes open now."

The man nodded, and you think he was going to say something else, but he turned his face to something behind you, and then you were looking.

The party became a complete awkward silence when a young man staggered in, completely drunk. It was your father, and he was not alone.

"That was so embarrassing." The real Agatha sneers beside you as you and Wanda watch your dads, stumble drunkenly to the center, your grandfather catching up with them with a murderous expression on his face.

"What is the meaning of this absurd, Howard?" He asked angrily, but keeping his tone low as if to avoid a bigger scene.

"Man of the year, London!" His father exclaimed ironically.

"Not so good father, but I think a great businessman should do it!"

Your father's speech caused some buzz to circulate around, but your grandfather just got his ears red with anger, and stepped forward.

"Leave immediately, take this filthy mudblood you call a friend with you." Says the man, and you feel your stomach turn. But your father steps forward, pushing your grandfather by the shoulders away, who is astonished.

"Don't call Erik that!" He shouts, and his speech turns into a groan of pain as your grandfather slaps him across the face, a look of disapproval as the whole room watches.

"Now, Howard." He warns. "And don't you ever dare raise your hand to your father again."

But Howard laughed humorlessly, raising his head again, his eyes full of tears.

"I'm leaving this place for good, dad." He warns, causing your grandfather to raise his eyebrow. "I'm going to live in New York."

"And with what money do you intend to do that, boy?" the man ironizes, "With mine that won't be."

"I'm going to work." Your father says and your grandfather's laugh makes you and everyone in the room shiver.

"You've never worked a day in your life, you intend to do what? Wash dishes? Have you forgotten that we have elves for that?"

"I'm going to live with the muggles." And that does cause a reaction. Your grandfather gives an incredulous laugh.

"Over my dead body you will."

But your father doesn't hesitate, and slips his arm around Erik's shoulders, who seemed suddenly sobered and embarrassed by the whole thing. "I'm going to New York with my best friend, and we're going to marry the first muggle girls we meet, and have as many more half-bloods as they want to give us. And you're going to die alone in this old mansion."

When your grandfather advanced to attack him, he took a step back, and apparated with his friend. The room went completely silent, and it took a couple of seconds for your grandfather to put a smile on his face and open his arms.

"Children." He commented loudly with irony. "You know how they are, folks! Howey loves a good firewhiskey, I'm sure he was just causing a Christmas prank. Come on, you can get on with it. The elves will serve you well!"

Everyone seemed too uncomfortable to disagree, and the room gradually returned to noises.

You felt embarrassed, because of your grandfather's attitude. But Wanda just stroked your hand with her thumb, whispering in your ear if you were all right, and you just nodded. The real Agatha turned to you.

"I think I'm rambling." She declares. "Your parents graduated from Hogwarts that year, and went to New York. And things here got worse. Let's see one last thing before we go back, you guys shouldn't stay in this spell that long, and we need to move."

While the memory was fading, you spoke.

“What happened to my grandfather while my dad was in New York?”

Agatha sighs thoughtfully. "Well, you know how sorcerers love a little gossip. The Daily Prophet ignored a potential war to talk about the prodigal son who ran away from home, front page story for a couple of weeks. And in the meantime muggle borns were disappearing all around the country, and even beyond."

You felt bad, wanting to apologize for your grandfather's actions, even though you were not at all to blame. Agatha gave a little smile.

"In a way, your grandfather's ruination delayed Faustus." She says. "Without the Starks' financial support, the minister became even more tense. He gave the red skulls a free pass to kill. And anyone who looked suspicious of plotting against the government was in the crosshairs."

"That doesn't sound like help, Agatha." You mutter but the witch isn't even paying attention anymore, the memory coming back into focus around you.

It was Hogwarts again, the courtyard. The students were all scattered among the pylons, looking curiously at the center.

Mephisto stood with his bags on his feet, a worn jacket, and his hair disheveled. Skinny, and very pale, he seemed to have difficulty standing.

"Is this your thanks for my work, old friend?" He sneered armagically, the crowd witnessing the scene with a mixture of fear and shock. "All I've done for this country and this school!"

"Putting my students in danger is not exactly exemplary service, Faustus." Agatha retorts standing in front of him.

It was the day of his resignation, you understand.

"Go away at once. There is no more place for you at Hogwarts."

But Mephisto became enraged, kicked his own bag, raised his wand, and Agatha did the same, but neither of them attacked. The students held their breath.

"Give it back and I will leave." He warns the woman.

"It is the property of Hogwarts castle, under my protection." Agatha retorts. "You are no longer part of the faculty, and you have no right to the study materials under surveillance of that school."

Mephisto clenched his jaw, his wand trembling in his hands. "It's mine! It's my book, give it back, damn you!"

"Leave now, Faustus."

"I cursed you, Agatha Harkness." Retorts the man with hatred. "You will pay for putting yourself between me and my destiny!"

The memory jolted as Mephisto put away his wand, and you felt like you were waking up.

"No, wait!" You turned indignantly. “How did you manage to fire him? How did it come to that? What happened to Professor Fury? "

But Agatha just shook her head, squinting slightly.

"We need to leave, you've been here too long." She says. "Let's continue at the next stop."

Everything turned blurry around you before you could protest.

//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny–freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x yn #marvel imagines #harry potter au #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

Three Words and Then Four

Summary: You couldn’t believe he would choose you over anyone else, but he did... The three words fell from his lips with ease, but you couldn’t accept the fourth one, hidden in his confession.

WC: 1,1 K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

AUs: (Implied) Idol!Chan, Confession

Pairing: Bang Chan X GN! Reader

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Warnings: Insecurity, low self-esteem (?)

Notes: This is just a blurb. I reviewed it, but I wrote it on my phone and it might have some mistakes along the way. Please overlook them lol

///

I love you.

These three words sounded like a foreign language even though you knew fairly well what they meant. It had been your dream to have those exact three words falling from his lips for what felt like an eternity, but somehow it didn’t sit right in your stomach now that you heard them… It was like they would never belong together ─ just like the both of you ─, leaving a bitter aftertaste on your lips, despite how sweet it was supposed to be

It just didn't feel real.

"No, you don't" Your tone was as plain as your statement. There was no anger, no regret, and no resentment as you stared into his eyes, "You don't" The second affirmation intended to emphasize your beliefs, but you would never know who you were trying to convince then.

The way his smile faltered ─ like a relentless flame as you blow out a candle ─ had your heart aching. There was nothing but hurt in his mien; lips twitching and eyes wavering as if he didn’t know how to sustain your gaze… As if he didn’t know where he was… As if he lost everything. And, for a split of a second, you wondered if you didn’t blow out the candle too soon... If he really didn’t mean it... If you weren't just afraid to be loved.

Your self-esteem wasn't as stubborn as a flame.

"You don't believe me" There was a question behind his words that you refused to answer, and the absence of response had him crumbling right in front of your eyes. He didn't cry ─ he had no reason to ─, but the usual giggly and soft Bang Chan you knew vanished just like the light of a bulb on its last breaths "Don't you? I mean- I thought we loved each other" He couldn't even look into your eyes as he said it; voice quivering as if he expected you to crush him mercilessly.

"You don't love me... There's no way you would" He gasped, mouth falling agape as he let the bewilderment shows in his face "I'm not good enough for you" A huff escaped from his lips at the same time his eyes lit up in understanding.

"You're more than enough for me..." He reassured you, taking a step closer to try and involve you in his arms. You took a step back, refusing to give in to your hopes "You're everything I ever wanted" He continued; uncertainty in his eyes replaced by confidence and something more... Something tender.

"No... I'm not..." You mumbled, taking another step back as he moved forward "I'm just the plain, old Y/N from always... I'm just your friend... I'm not like those gorgeous, famous idols around you..." The way your voice faltered could either be from your urge to cry or from the flustered state you found yourself in as Chan braced himself on the wall behind you, trapping you between them.

"The only difference I see is that I love you but I don't love them" He dismissed your thoughts, smiling reassuringly as his hand cupped your cheek with such gentleness that you could be made of porcelain and he wouldn't break you "There is nothing plain about you... There is not a single thing I'd change" He let his eyes dive into yours before he continued "Except maybe your eyesight or something... I'd change the way you see yourself" He admitted; caressing your skin so as to leave a path of affection behind.

If you couldn't feel his warmth engulfing your whole body, you would swear it was all a dream. But it wasn't. You knew it wasn't because not in a million years your brain could be that caring for you. Not in a million years, you would make up such soft and loving eyes as you met in front of yours ─ looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world. Not in a million years Bang Chan would be so clearly in love with you. Not in a million years, you would have believed in your own mind and thoughts as you believed in him.

Not in a million years, you would feel this loved.

"Is there any other reason why you would reject me?" He asked firmly; lips almost too close to yours to let you think straight "Am I wrong to think that you love me back? Am I too hopeful to think that we could be together?" He added, and the seriousness in his tone made it clear that he needed you to answer him this time.

He needed to know that he was just as special to you as you were to him. Somewhere in that insane head of his, there was a voice that made him believe that somehow he wasn't worthy… That he wasn’t worthy of you. And you couldn't believe how dumb of you it was to miss all the signs of how much he meant his words.

"I love you" The three words fell from your lips with such easiness that saying them was probably the easiest choice of your life.

I love you too.

That was his silent answer as he crashed his lips against yours; kissing you as if you could change your mind by any second now.

I love you too.

That was what his firm yet careful hands on your cheeks screamed to you. That was what his hold told you as he pulled your face incredibly closer. As his fingers slid to your jaw and brushed over your neck. As his hand left your nape to wander to your waist.

I love you too.

That was what his body said as every inch of your skin connected to each other; setting you aflame. His touch lit you up as if feeling him was the reason why you were alive. As if this was the last key to find your happiness.

"I love you too" That was what he said as he broke away from your lips, connecting your foreheads and sighing in relief and delight "Thank God I can say this 'too'..." He chuckled, arms wrapping you to pull you into a hug as he rested his face on the crook of your neck.

"I love you too" You muttered as he lifted his head to stare into your eyes "And thank God I can say this too" It was your time to chuckle; studying how his gaze softened when meeting yours.

I love you too.

Those were the words muffled by your second kiss.

And every single one after that.

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crowsmybeloveds · 3 years

Text

Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Two

In Cold Blood

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: The Crows continue to visit Y/N at the Emerald Palace, and make some interesting developments.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Implied suicide (don’t take it too seriously hint hint); abuse; Pekka Rollins; again canon typical violence/slave stuff (this time it’s described more, but again nothing graphic); the Menagerie;

A/N: Thank you so much if you liked the first chapter!!! This one is a little longer and I promise the end isn’t as bad as it might seem.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~

Jesper Fahey liked to do his own thing. Sure, as a member of the Dregs he had to listen to his boss and go on jobs, but he loved his free time in between. Hence, he often avoided going on little arends for Kaz at all costs. It would be a waste of his time.

Jesper Fahey was now talking to Kaz. Volunteering for an arend. For the fourth time this week.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had been visiting the girl in the basement regularly since their first meeting with her. Kaz chalked it up to business, the girl and her potions were powerful assets, but the other two would admit they had found a new friend.

There were rules to these visits. First, only go during the day. Even if it seemed counterintuitive to sneak there in the broad daylight, Y/N insisted she would be unavailable in the night, as that was when her “work” was done. Also, if you are there, you must hide well behind the crates, and remain armed. You were lucky every time you made it out of there alive.

It was a daunting task, but Jesper was always up for it.

“You’re going to go there again?” Kaz asked him, eyebrows raised, “You know it’s Inej’s turn, correct?”

“Yes, and I also don’t care,” Jesper answered, “Also, she probably has things to see, people to do, and whatnot. I, on the other hand, have my whole day cleared. And I couldn’t deprive the lovely basement girl of this face.” He smiled, pointing to himself, “I mean, come on.”

Kaz stared at him, seeing through his antics in a minute. Jesper had taken a liking to the girl. What will happen the day he visits to find she’s not there anymore? Kaz thought. His hopes are too high.

“Fine, Jesper,” He agreed, “but be careful not to draw attention.” He scrunched his nose. “Do your best not to dawdle.”

“Right, I’m off then!” Jesper exclaimed as he clapped his hands together and ran off.

“I’m going tomorrow!” Kaz shouted after him.

The sharpshooter knew his boss was suspicious of his actions, but in all honesty he didn’t care. Normally he would have thought there wasn’t much spending time with her could do, as she had told him many of the same things over and over. That must have meant she had told him all that she knew. But Jesper was not going for information, he was going to be with her. He liked to think they were friends.

Jesper was often distracted. Whether he saw a pretty person to flirt with or a table to gamble at, he always found a way to not be doing whatever he was supposed to. Everything around him was so appealing and stimulating, especially in the Barrel. Even so, he sped down the streets without a single double take or second thought as he headed to the Emerald Palace. He really wanted to see her. So bad it was addicting. At first he thought that maybe the girl was drugging him, seeing as that is her particular expertise, but soon he realized that he just liked her. She was funny, and she laughed at all his jokes. She was also so intriguing. So powerful yet rendered powerless. He was enchanted, but he knew something was missing. It seemed it wasn’t her fault. He wanted to help.

That day when he arrived at the window (after making sure no one could see him, of course) Jesper saw Y/N sitting against the wall with her legs hugged to her chest. He called her name softly, and waited for her to reply. She didn’t reply, or even move. Against his better judgement, he shouted louder, risking being discovered by one of Pekka’s crew. He didn’t care. He banged the windows. Praying she would say something. Or turn her head. Or nod. Anything. She didn’t. A single tear rolled down her face.

Y/N had been sitting there for three hours. There wasn’t much to be said about what had happened. Only that she did not remember, whether her loss of memory was intentional or not. It was an off day, that’s all.

Jesper was panicking. He had no idea how to get her to wake up. That is, if she was asleep. Truthfully, he did not know what was wrong with her or what to do. Unfortunately, his noise making had roused a different group of people. Jesper had to run down the alley as he heard shouts coming his direction. He ran the rest of the way home, still in shock. He was not haunted by his near escape with the Dime Lions, but the look on the girl’s face. What had they done to her?

“And she didn’t move at all?” Inej asked. Jesper had just explained to her what happened after he showed up to her room at the Slat. She hadn’t appreciated being woken up from one of her rare naps, but she didn’t complain when she saw the look on his face.

“Not that I could see,” he replied, shaking his head, “Inej, I swear she could hear me.”

Inej did not know what to say. This kind of behavior was not usual for Jesper. He had his normal amount of energy, but it was not often it was all directed to one place: worry. It was odd that something upset him and he did not distract from it by going to gamble or making a joke.

“I just, if it were you I’d understand, but who could ignore me?” he said, “Going unnoticed is not a Jesper talent.”

There it was.

“You’re deflecting” She called him out, “It’s not funny. We should tell Kaz.”

“That's not funny,” Jesper replied, “what is Kaz gonna do? Tell us to stop talking to her?”

Inej sighed. It’s possible that he would advise that. But he also wouldn’t just let Pekka Rollins keep his most dangerous weapon. Especially not when she didn’t seem to have much loyalty. She had told Inej so many times. The girls had a bond due to the Menagerie, and Y/N told her much about her past and present. She explained different chemicals she had made and plans she had heard to Kaz. But with Inej, she explained how she felt about them.

Y/N hated every second in that basement. She had told Inej as much. Repeatedly. But she was rather scatterbrained. She repeated herself often and forgot things that she had already been told. She would forget what day it was and what she had done the night before. Inej had experience with trauma and sleep deprivation enough to shrug this off. She didn’t want to cause her friend anguish by questioning it.

The incident Jesper was describing made her think that maybe she should. Y/N was smart. Hell, she was a self taught Grisha fabrikator. So good, she could kill people from miles away. How could she be so forgetful? Someone so scientifically gifted must have a better mind than that. Someone must have been messing with it.

After some convincing to Jesper that Kaz would not kill or give up on Y/N, the pair made their way to their boss’s office.

“I was waiting for this to happen,” was Kaz’s response.

“What, that’s it?” Jesper raised his voice, “You have nothing else to say?”

Kaz glared at him from his desk. “I don’t know that you thought through your attachment to her, Jesper. You should never have assumed she was on our side.”

Jesper stared bullets at his boss in front of them. They seriously weren’t going to help her at all? She needed to get out of there, he knew that for certain. If it wasn’t because he cared about her then it should be because she is an asset. A good investment. Saints, he hated calling her that.

He didn’t say any of this, however, and instead started to walk out of the office. Just before he was out the door, he heard Brekker speak up.

“I’ll go and see her tomorrow.”

When Kaz Brekker reached the girl’s window, he gave it exactly seven taps with his cane, with a very specific beat. It was a signal he had made with Y/N so that she knew to open the window and talk to him without him having to raise his voice.

The girl turned toward the window at the sound. She set down the bottle she was currently working on and walked over. Kaz started speaking as soon as it was opened.

“How long have they been drugging you?”

Y/N scoffed, “Hello to you, too!”

“How long?”

“Um, never?” She replied, getting confused. “They don’t drug me with anything. I’d notice. That’s kind of my job description.”

Kaz looked to the side, thinking. The only way to explain her odd behavior, forgetfulness, and calmness in her position was that she was being manipulated. And because she was constantly making poisons and “potions” for Pekka, it made sense that she was being given her own drugs without her knowledge. He had thought this since he’d met her. She had to be on some sort of relaxers when he first saw her. Why else would she have so willingly opened the window for strangers?

“Why did you ignore Jesper when he was here yesterday?” He asked, hoping to get the information from her in a more roundabout way.

“I didn’t?” Y/N asked, “Inej was here yesterday, she got those vials of knockout gas you asked for.”

Kaz squinted at her, “Y/N, that was two days ago.”

She shook her head, “No, no, because I was working on those just yesterday and I just finished them when she stopped by. I haven’t seen Jesper in a couple of days, Kaz. Are you feeling ok?”

Kaz wasn’t sure how to react to this. She had missed the whole day? He was sure things like this had been going on this whole time, but never in the month since they began speaking with her has she forgotten a whole day. She had to have taken something.

“Are you self medicating?”

“No! Why- what are you talking about? What is going on?”

“Y/N, Jesper came here yesterday and you were sitting in that corner near catatonic. You wouldn’t speak or even move.” Kaz informed her.

“He must not have shouted loud enough, I was probably asleep.”

“You normally sleep with your eyes open?” He is tone was sharp. “Jesper said you were crying.”

She didn’t respond. She was shocked out of her mind. It was possible Kaz was lying to her to get some sort of information out of her, but it didn’t seem that way. He looked uneasy, the kind of unease that comes from not knowing something. He was a very smart man, and when something did not make sense to him he got nervous. So, this must have actually happened. And if she could not remember it, something was terribly wrong.

“I’m sorry, Kaz. I just don’t remember.”

“Fine. Then I need you to stop eating the food they give you. I’ll have Inej stop by with something to eat during the day.” Kaz paused, thinking. “And I would like to get you out of here, and have you join the Dregs. I just have to figure out how.”

“No, Kaz. I can’t leave.”

“Why? You have loyalties to Pekka Rollins?” He asked, anger clear in his voice.

Do I? She thought. While she knew his treatment of her was unfair, she wondered whether or not she still cared about him. In her time at the Emerald Palace, Pekka had told her many things about how he was the only one who would ever care for her. He claimed that he had saved her from the Menagerie, and he was taking care of her because he loved her. He also said that he would help her find her sister, often claiming that the potions Y/N was making was helping him follow leads about her.

When he started bringing men down into Y/N’s room, she was only a teenager. The first man that had ever touched her in that room also told her information about upcoming trips, which Pekka used to choose the perfect time to rob his house. Y/N felt disgusting in her skin ever since, but Pekka reassured her. I’m sorry , canary. I’ll protect you. Those men are not like me. While any sane person would call giving her food and shelter supplying her basic needs, Pekka called it courtesy. A gift because he loved her. A gift that could be taken away. He let men take advantage of her just so she could get him information, and then called it love. And she believed him. Until one day.

A man had come down into her room, which was usual for her on any given night. However, this man started out rough and stayed that way for the rest of his visit. She had tried her best with past men to get as much information as she could through simple flirting and drugging, but he was not there for small talk. For a brief moment, she considered saying no. In the moment following, she remembered what happened the other times she had done so.

She didn’t get any of the information she had been asked to draw from the man. Pekka was livid. The argument following had been explosive and painful. Not just emotionally.

“This isn’t love.” She tried to say it in a firm voice, but it came out broken and weak.

“How could you possibly know?” Pekka replied.

“Because you don’t deny it.” She said, summoning the strength to look up at him. “The men who come down here sometimes mention their wives. They might not be the pinnacle of married men, but I know they would never do this. This is bad for me.”

“Oh, is it so bad for you?” He raised his voice. “And who is going to treat you better, hm? Who out there would possibly care about you like I do?”

She turned her back to him. She sniffled as she cleaned up her worktable, silently hoping he would just leave.

He grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him. “I don’t care if you hate me. You will stay here because of Anais. You will stay because you need me.”

The memory was scarring.

Kaz watched as Y/N got lost in her own thoughts. His voice startled her out of her memories. “Y/N, do you have loyalties to him?”

“My sister, Anais.” She breathed. “He is helping me find my sister.”

“Is that all?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I need to find her. Have you ever had any siblings?”

Kaz paused for a moment. The comment seemed to toy with him. “No.”

“Then you don’t get it. I want to be with people I belong with. To figure out where I’m from.” She sighed. “Pekka is helping me with that.”

“And he has proven that he is actually doing so?”

“He said that he knew she was involved with the slavers who took me away. He is getting in with them to try and figure out where they took her.”

“Y/N, I don’t think he is actually doing that.” Kaz said, shaking his head. “This is your reason for staying?”

“And I have nowhere else to go!”

Kaz took a deep breath. He had decided what he was going to do for the girl since the day he met her. She was an asset. With her power he could complete jobs and gain kruge with record speed. Not to mention, if Kaz had her on his side, Pekka didn’t. The sweet taste of revenge covered his tongue just at the thought.

“I have an offer,” he began, “You come with me. Not now, but soon. I’ll come everyday to ask questions and we’ll plan your escape. In the meantime, you gather your things discreetly and try to find as much dirt on Rollins as you can.”

“But my sister -“

“If you are a part of the Dregs, you will help when asked, but the rest of your time is yours. Look for your sister, gamble your money away, take up baking, — I don’t care. You’ll be free.”

The offer was good. Great, actually. So why was she hesitating? Was Pekka’s manipulation really enough to make her turn away an opportunity like this? I don’t know.

And what about Kaz? Could she really trust him? The man wanted her for her powers, too. How was he different from Pekka? In her limited experience, he wasn’t. I should stay.

But Jesper. In the short while she had known him, Jesper had become her favorite part of being alive. And Inej, who was the kindest soul she had ever encountered. If they were with Kaz, he couldn’t be the demon he tried to be. At least not like Pekka. I should go. I should have gone a long time ago.

“Deal.”

In the weeks following, Kaz came every day to discuss every aspect of the Emerald Palace with her, in the hopes that he could get her out. Getting her out of the building would be simple, but keeping her from being hunted by the Dime Lions for the rest of her days would be complicated. The plan would have to be completely airtight, so Kaz needed time.

A few days later, Jesper was at the window speaking with her. The other members of the dregs would often visit along with Kaz and stay to talk to her, or they might come in his place. Today, after describing her entire tailoring process to Kaz, Y/N was speaking to Jesper about music.

“It’s like this huge golden machine made by Fabrikators, right?” Y/N smiled as she excitedly spoke. “And you take this small disc, place it on the machine and put the needle on it, and then music comes out!”

Jesper grinned at her. He loved the way she looked when she was excited about something. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one before.”

“Well, it’s wonderful,” she sighed, “Not to mention there’s thousands of the disc things, and each one is a different song. I wish more people had them than just the rich men who can afford it. I mean I wish I could have one.”

The two had been known to discuss things that had nothing to do with her escape, which Kaz had scolded them for plenty of times. But they enjoyed talking to each other, and they often got distracted. Odd topics of discussion were bound to happen whether they liked it or not. However, when Jesper realized that they had strayed from their original reason for speaking, he redirected the conversation.

“So, you get tailored nearly everyday?”

“Well, whenever anyone comes to see me. Only Pekka knows what I really look like. And you and your friends. Maybe it's a security thing.” She told him, thinking as she spoke. “Also, if anyone sees me who isn’t supposed to, I’m meant to drug them so they forget. Pekka really just does not want anyone knowing I’m here. Some bastard might try to steal me away.”

Jesper smirked at her. “I cannot imagine who would ever do something like that.”

Visits were going relatively well. Kaz had nearly enough information to finalize his plan for her escape, so he visited less and less. Y/N was becoming a solid member of the Crows even though she had so little time with them. She matched Jesper’s humor, built trust with Inej, and had a shared anger for Pekka with Kaz.

Today was Inej’s day to go visit Y/N, and she was running rather late. She knew the girl had mentioned not to visit after the sun went down, but Inej had been busy all day and could only find time to make it to the window after dark. When she got there, however, she realized why Y/N had made the warning.

When she looked through the window, she noticed that Y/N was not alone. When she looked closer, she realized Y/N was with Pekka Rollins. Luckily, Inej was the Wraith, she could watch what happened next without being seen.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to eat your dinner,” She heard Rollins speak first, in the most condescending tone she had ever heard. “Not after I worked so hard to get your favorite.”

Y/N sat on her cot, avoiding eye contact. “Not hungry.”

Rollins grabbed her by the jaw roughly, forcing her to look at him. Inej noticed tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “Not hungry, hm? We both know that’s not true.” He laughed, with a terrifying lack of humor behind it. “Why are you lying to me, canary?”

The girl shook her head as the tears fell down her face.

“Your tears will do you no good.” Rollins snarled. “Do not forget what you are.” He paused, raising a brow. “What are you?”

The girl sniffled and didn’t respond.

“What are you?” He shouted and raised his voice this time, causing her to shake.

“A canary.” She whispered out.

“Good, and if I give you a song...”

He raised her chin higher, prompting her to finish his words. “I sing it.” The words fell from her lips like something rehearsed, but unbearably painful.

He gave a tight lipped smile. “Right. Don’t forget it again.” He sat down next to her and handed her the plate she had sat on the table beside her. “Now you eat and I’ll tell you about the man who is coming here tonight.”

Inej felt like she was going to throw up as she travelled the rooftops of Ketterdam back to the Crow Club. She knew Y/N was being mistreated at the Emerald Palace, but seeing it take place was something entirely apart.

As she walked in the doors of the club she felt a presence beside her. She looked over to see Jesper walking with her. He must have been guarding the door. He was waiting to ask a question.

“Yes, Jesper, I went to see her.” Inej spoke to him, her voice rough.

“And?”

“And Pekka Rollins was there.”

Jesper stopped in his tracks. “Saints, is she ok? Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Inej assured, “But I’m not sure about Y/N. He is anything but gentle with her. And he forced her to eat the dinner he gave her. I don’t think she’s gonna be able to avoid the drugs they give her anymore. If only she could remember to take an antidote before her mind goes.”

“Shit, we need to get her out of there, soon.”

The pair once again went to Kaz to discuss the girl, only to find him at his desk, writing furiously with two bottles in front of him.

“Kaz, Inej -“ Jesper was cut off.

“She told me how she’s been killing all those people.” Kaz stared at the bottle in front of him, observing it scientifically.

Inej and Jesper looked at each other before looking back at their boss. What was he on about?

“I don’t understand.” Inej had a confused look on her face as she tried her best to make eye contact with Kaz. She wanted to try and read him like she knew she could, but right now the man in front of her was like a blank page.

“Y/N. She gives them a liquid of her own design, but it isn’t poisonous,” He kept his eyes trained on his work, “At least not until she makes it poisonous. She can give someone poison hours in advance but it kills them right at the perfect moment. Right when she can get away. And, once they are dead, she can change it back to something nontoxic. It’s flawless: not a single trace is left.”

“Great, boss,” Jesper said, growing impatient. “Can we talk about why we are here?”

Kaz frowned, “What, because you want to get Y/N out sooner? She’s in a terrible situation?”

“Exactly,” Inej pleaded.

“If I tried to save everyone in the Barrel I’d be broke by dawn.” Kaz said, looking back at his work. Inej and Jesper stood there in shock. “If you don’t have anything else to say…”

Inej placed a hand up to keep Jesper from exploding. “Kaz, you told us that you would help her escape.”

“I needed information, Wraith, you wouldn’t help me if I told the truth.”

Jesper spoke up, “So you lied to us? And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She’s prepared to leave the Emerald Palace tonight.” Kaz tsked. “I doubt she’ll make it two feet out the building without our help. Solves all of my problems.”

Without another word, Inej slipped out of the room, leaving the boys to fight. Through the walls, she heard muffled shouting.

“How could you? You act like you have nothing you believe in but really you are so terrible that you’ve made yourself your own Saint!” Jespers voice was desperate, filled with rage. The betrayal he felt was clear even though he was muffled. He sniffed. “Put too much faith in that saint and he’ll kill your friends.”

Inej cringed, hating the harsh truths her friend was sending toward her boss. She had always known partnership with Kaz would mean conflict, but it also meant freedom. She and Jesper often commented on their cold-hearted boss. “We are both too good for him.” Jesper would laugh as he said it, but now it seemed to be a reason to leave. But where would they go? When it came to Kaz Brekker, no one was better, and no one was worse.

One thing was for certain, Inej was not going to let her friend die. She had just pulled Y/N up from the grave, and she’d be damned if she let Kaz Brekker push her back in. If he was so certain the girl would be dead by tomorrow, she’d get to her before then. She didn’t have time for Kaz’s lectures and Jesper’s shouting. There was a life at stake. She begged the Saints to help her, but deep down she knew that this was up to her and her knives. If Inej couldn’t save Y/N, the Wraith would.

When she reached the Emerald Palace, a nauseous feeling spread throughout her stomach. She willed her hands to stop shaking, but the tremor remained. She reached the window after carefully checking her surroundings and gasped at what she saw. Nothing remained in Y/N’s room but a white letter and dark ash, both standing out against the gray stone floor. Inej frowned in confusion. So, she is gone. Where could she be?

Y/N was a smart girl, she could be out of Ketterdam by now. However, she had barely had any human contact and had been drugged and manipulated for years. If she was not already found by Pekka Rollins, she could have already been killed on the street. But no one knew who she was, and only Pekka and the Crows knew what she truly looked like. She had become one huge question.

Suddenly, Inej remembered something.. Specifically, a conversation she had with Y/N not long ago.

Inej, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever made. She had said, a fire in her eyes.

Then why are you smiling? Inej replied.

Look! Y/N had pulled a thin glass bottle of a swirling liquid and a small flower out from behind her back. She then poured a drop of the bottle on the flower, which disintegrated into a pile of ash within seconds.

Saints. Inej was amazed.

Wild, huh? Footsteps came from the stairwell in the corner of the room. Shit. Inej, go. Inej hesitated. Go! He’ll see you!

Now, looking at the large pile of ash on the floor of the room, Inej realized what had happened.

“Saints,” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “She’s drunk it.”

She heard footsteps approaching in the alley, and immediately grabbed two of her knives, ready to protect herself.

“Easy,” Jesper appeared, holding his hands out toward her. “It’s just me.”

Inej lowered her knives as she stared back at him. “We’re too late, Jes. She’s gone.”

He laughed, nervous. “No, she wouldn’t.” He lowered himself down to the window. “No.”

Inej stood up and looked up at the stars, praying to any Saint that she could think of that she wasn’t dead. That her friend was out there somewhere. Alive. “Jesper, we need to get out of here.”

“But,” Jesper paused, his voice weak. “She was just here.”

“She’s not anymore.” Inej looked at him with pity. She could tell how much the girl had meant to him. “I’m sorry.”

“She was just here.” He repeated, voice cracks littering his words.

Inej grabbed his hand, forcing him out of this frozen state. “I know, Jes. I’m sorry.”

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #jesper fahey x you

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infernal-fire · 3 years

Text

five types of love.

what to expect: smut, swearing, friends w/ benefits arrangement, mention of Imposter syndrome, fluff, angst, heartbreak, overstimulation, implied creampie, rough sex

a/n: a little warning; you will be choosing your ending - there is a happy one and a sad one. a huge shoutout to @mollygetssherlockcoffee and @angrybirdcr for talking to me about the fic and offering such amazing advice! and @tuiccim was so damn lovely, even offered to beta this (though all mistakes are my own).

summary: you once heard that there were eight types of love. you only knew of five; the five that caused you to fall for one, blue-eyed menace.

Ludus: uncommitted, casual love that can attribute to a flirtatious and fun conquest. Not to be mistaken for Eros.

“I think we’re forgetting the reason why the mission failed in the first place. If the older fellow took a suggestion once in a-”

“-Tony, you know damn well that there were civilians in there.”

Steve and Tony glared at each other from across the briefing room. The tension in the room was exorbitant, but then again, it had been that way since Bucky joined the team.

“This is exactly why we need the new girl. You super-soldiers and billionaires are getting tangled up in each others’ asses and forgetting about what it’s like for the normal people,” Rhodey sighed.

“The last thing we need is another trainee fucking up orders,” Tony snorted and began messing with his tech. The projector flipped through random screens, FRIDAY most likely filtering out the irrelevant news.

“If you have a problem, maybe you should say it to his face,” Steve seethed, now standing up to match Tony’s stance. Usually, this type of jab at Bucky wouldn’t rile him up, but the super-soldier was at his wit’s end following the events of the latest mission.

Beside him, Bucky lightly tugged on his friend’s hand, signalling him to disengage.

“You’re with them?” Tony incredulously questioned Rhodey.

“I’m with the idea of calming this room down.”

“Besides, she’s already been prepped for her first mission,” Natasha piped up. “We’re supposed to have a sit-down in 5 minutes... that is, if you boys can get your shit together.”

The room broke out into a chorus of muttering and everyone settled in their seats again. Captain strode to the front of the room and pulled up his game plan, fiddling with the map FRIDAY was projecting.

You, on the other hand, could not decide how to act in front of the Avengers: Laidback? They wouldn’t take you seriously. Know-it-all? No, that was Stark’s play. Timid Tiffany? If you wanted to seem secretly conceited? Sure. That would work for now.

When Vision floated out to bring you in, you didn’t even flinch at the unforeseen phasing. Impressed at your lack of a reaction, Vision faltered before ever-so-courteously introducing himself.

Could this sentient being laugh of his own volition? You gave him your name and dramatically curtsied to test your theory; he could laugh, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not at all robotic.

You felt the room intently eye you as you ambled to your seat beside one, blue-eyed menace. You half-expected the team to introduce themselves, but who were you kidding - anyone could hear the argument from three corridors away. There was no point in pretending like they wanted you here, but that wouldn’t deter you.

You glanced at your neighbour, met with the pleasant face of the one and only. James Buchanan Barnes was known to be a handsome devil, but the reputation of the Winter Soldier often precedes him; that, unfortunately, does not stop you from eyeing him.

When he caught your stare, you scolded yourself. You’re such a creep.

When he smirked at your ogling, you praised yourself. Oh, hello there.

This is gonna be fun.

Eros: sexual, passionate love that is fueled by lust.

It didn’t happen after the first mission; he had the decency to wait until the fourth mission to knock on your door.

You had been putting away the last of your belongings, finally adjusting to the grandiose living conditions the Avengers Tower provided.

As soon as you unlocked your knob, the door flung open; Bucky's stare was partially inhibited by his hooded eyes. He hadn’t always looked at you like that.

Like what?

With unadulterated craving.

That day, he strode in like he owned the place. You didn’t expect the shove that caused you to land on your bed with an oomph. Bucky wasted no time, climbing onto your form, straddling you. By the time you understood what was happening, a single finger was pressed into your lips.

“Either tell me you don’t want this right fucking now,” he leaned in, close to your face, “or shut the fuck up and let me use you.”

You whimpered in response.

“Not good enough.”

“Use me.”

That’s all the affirmation he needed.

You pushed off the bed to try and meet his lips but he firmly pinned you down by your shoulders. Bucky reached into your panties and circled your clit without hesitation. It only took some swivelling, his intense gaze and the unexpected plunge of his fingers in your channel to make you see stars. Bucky had made you come before kissing you.

When he finally slotted his lips against yours, it was nothing short of all-consuming; you hadn’t even realized the absence of clothes on your body. Had it been ten minutes? Or thirty? It was hard to tell when you were being ravaged by another.

He made you come twice more: once with his fingers’ repeated dipping and pressing into the soft, spongy part of your cunt. The second time was with the talented sucking and flicking of his tongue. Technically, it was the third time.

None of your past partners had been this steadfast in their duty to pleasure you. You were already putty in his hands, ready to be moulded according to his needs. Part of you was ready to tap out, unable to fathom the likelihood of coming over his cock again, but the better half of you needed it.

In your orgasmic haze, you failed to notice that his clothes were being discarded - if you did, it would have given you the opportunity to gawk at the body that you so desperately wanted to see shirtless. When you finally registered his naked person, your hand involuntarily traced the connection between the metal arm and flesh. He threw his head back and groaned before kissing you again.

He pulled off, just enough to get a good look.

“Look at you, all fucked out. I didn’t even put my cock in.”

He pumped his shaft with fervour before pushing the blunt head against your slit. You winced at his attempt to put it in.

“Made you cum three times and you’re still too fucking tight,” he muttered and ran his length up and down your folds. Once he had accumulated enough slick he tried again, this time, successful.

You moaned as he slowly sunk in and buried his cock to its absolute limit. If the walls of your pussy had a voice, it would be absolutely hoarse. You also realized that he only bestowed the three orgasms in hopes of reprieving the pain of the stretch. Without the preparation, he might have torn you in half.

When he began moving, the only thing that was slow or soft about him was his lips against your skin. The thrusts were punishing; if it wasn’t obvious that he was angry before, this made it clear as day.

You screamed and moaned, alternating between keening and arching your back; the pleas did nothing to falter his furious pace. The smacking of your skin was only heightened by the slick that your cunt produced in attempts to accommodate his length. Every time he pulled out, his balls were connected to your sex with a string of come.

If someone told you that you could come five times within forty minutes, you would have face painted and dressed them up like a clown.

Now you laid in bed, being used like a rag doll, begging Bucky to stop you from coming a sixth time that session. It was usually the dirty talk that got you off, but he hadn’t said anything aside from the occasional ‘shut up’ or ‘shhh’. His movements alone had you convulsing around his length.

His thrusts didn’t get sloppy. Rather, they increased in force, as his cock sought space beyond your cervix. You tried to scream, but all that came out was more broken tears and cries. At last, he let out a pornographic moan as his load flooded your insides. Sure, you had let past boyfriends come in you, but you never actually felt the liquid shoot up inside you, until today.

Following the pop sound that his cock made as it pulled out, you whined again. You could feel your heartbeat throb down there.

He flipped you onto your stomach and smacked your ass, laughing at the way you sobbed in pain before disappearing from your room altogether.

He was gone as fast as he showed up.

And he ruined everyone else for you.

In all fairness... you asked for it.

Philia: the deep, virtuous love that is formed in a good friendship. Lovers share a strong bond when Eros and Philia feed into each other.

What started as a release from the frustrations that accrue on the battlefield turned into a deep connection that neither of you had anticipated. Sex had only been used as a tool in the act of psychological detachment until that day.

It was a failed date of some sort: either you had been stood up or the guy was a total moron. You could wrack your brain for the memory, but in any matter, it was all irrelevant now.

You were upset, not just at your lack of a love life, but at the imposter syndrome that had weaselled its way into your liveliness. Feeling like you weren’t enough was catching up to your daily life and even Bucky had noticed the hesitation during your post-mission escapades.

Before you knew it, your hand was knocking on Bucky’s door at the ripe hour of 1 AM.

You heard the muffled thumps of his footsteps and considered booking it out of there, but before you made up your mind, the door opened. As you had predicted, Bucky was wide-awake.

“What?”

You had wanted to sass him for his tone but decided against it since you were the one who interrupted his 1 AM activities. You shook your head from the clouds and mumbled incoherently, starting to walk away. The coldness of his metal arm abruptly gripped your wrist.

“Are you okay?”

You hated that question. You could be doing so good, holding in the burden of a horrible week, but the moment someone asks you that question, the dam would disintegrate into dust, only to be washed away by the inevitable waterworks.

The sob you let out didn’t loosen his hold. He let you cry and watched as you tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears, still refusing to close the gap between your bodies. Finally, you shuffled into his arms where he bear-hugged you, cupping the back of your neck and holding it to the junction of his neck.

"You smell nice,” you sniffled.

He lightly chuckled before dragging you into his room and seating you on the bed. He ordered you to stay there and rummaged around his cupboard before pulling out a bottle with red liquid sloshing around.

“You keep that in your room?” you snickered, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, before blanching at your state. Hell, he had seen you naked, how you look right now is the least of your concerns.

“In case of emergencies,” he winked. “This seems like a real emergency.”

A fresh wave of tears pooled in your waterline as you peered at your hands that were picking at each other.

“I don’t have wine glasses, so we can just chug.”

Bucky stuck out the bottle and you grasped it firmly before gulping one-fourth of it. That’s all the coaxing it took to get you to spill.

You don’t even remember what you talked about, but before either of you realized, 3 AM blinked on the digital clock that hung above the bed frame. You were almost asleep, now resting on Bucky’s lap while he occasionally hummed or offered his two cents. Right before you drifted off, the super-soldier lifted you, placing you under a cover. He climbed in from the other side, one hand cupping your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“Thanks, Buck.”

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay,” he whispered.

Your eyes drooped but swiftly opened as Bucky leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His lips barely touched yours, grazing their presence, but you moved, tenderly catching them. He returned the movement, the delicacy of his actions reflected in the softness of his eyes.

You pulled away and the two of you wordlessly bore into each other’s eyes. At last, you succumbed to the fatigue, as did he; both of you resting in the others’ possession.

Mania: an unhealthy, obsessive love that plagues the mind.

It was the third time Bucky didn’t show up at your door after a mission. Three missions, each of them ending in something that would have indubitably pissed him off - after all, they were HYDRA bases. That’s when you first suspected it.

The second was when you noted his intentional avoidance of your presence. Whether it be the kitchen, the gym or the hallways, the stealthy ex-assassin didn’t have trouble actively dodging you. Initially, you chalked it up to wanting space or simply taking a break.

Then you heard it.

Why was it that your gut told you to go right then? All this time you had been biding, yet it was at this precise moment that your hunch asked you to speak to him. It could’ve been the duration of the month that it took you to prepare yourself, but it had to be now. You raised your hand, prepping to knock on the door, but stopped.

Your hand froze mid-air. The elegant laugh of another girl sounded behind the door. It was faint, the noise slightly suppressed by the wall between you.

It could be anyone.

But it wasn’t. Your intuition, the one that told you to come here right now, was wise enough to know that this wasn’t just anyone. It was her.

You cupped your mouth to stop the sob that threatened to liberate itself from the confines of your constricted airway. You fell forward, onto your knees, as if to pray to the gods to not let it happen. But it already did. You let go of your mouth, gasping for air from holding your breath all this time.

Shoulders sagged and spine bent, you stalked back to your room like a zombie. Face devoid of all emotion, you fell onto the corner of your bed and crumpled into a ball. For twelve hours, you laid there. Sometimes sleeping, other times letting the tears leak out of the corners of your eyes. Memories of his fingers weaving through your own, the pleasures that chilled you to the bone. Most of all, the way you held his head to your chest as he whimpered about the nightmares that invaded his nights. It felt like those things happened to someone else. Nothing more than a distant memory.

Your heart clenched, tugging on the heartstring that you once thought was connected to him.

It was as if he knew you stood outside his door that day. There was an unspoken agreement to never speak of it. Yes, yes, don’t ever speak of it. The dam that you built so carefully will come crashing down. He stopped avoiding you, but you wished he didn’t; it was crueller to be reminded, easier to pretend he didn’t exist.

Be honest with yourself.

You didn’t pretend like he didn’t exist.

In fact, the first thought after waking up? Bucky. Last thought before going to sleep? My Buck. Every time he wasn’t around? James Buchanan Barnes.

Please, don’t act like every waking moment isn’t spent loving him. Because deep down, you know what’s true.

He never did introduce the mystery girl to anyone at the Tower, but you knew his disappearance after missions could be credited to her. Did he take out his anger on her as he did to you? Or were you nothing more than a toy?

Guilt was one of the few emotions you could make out from the rare occasions you caught his stare. Longing was there too, but you couldn’t be sure that you weren’t projecting. Months went by, waiting for thoughts of him to abandon your disturbed mind. The time never came.

As promised, he ruined anyone else for you.

Pragma: the type of love that endures all shortcomings. Committed relationships that stay in love have an element of significant Pragma to them.

a happy ending.

That relationship may have ended but it didn’t mean he would come back to you.

He did come back. But he wasn’t yours. Bucky made that clear when two more relationships ensued the last. Each time, the buffer period between them was filled by you.

His back-up plan. That’s what you had been reduced to.

After the third time he brought a new girl, you’d think you would be used to it, maybe even uncaring. Unfortunately, the opposite would always prevail.

Steve caught your fist and tutted, commenting on the bad form. You stopped, shook your shoulders and began hopping on the balls of your feet again. Jab, jab. Swing. At first, you’d imagine the faces of those girls. Nowadays, it was easier to envision the pads Steve held as his best friend’s face.

“Bucky’s girl broke up with him.”

“Oh,” you made out, focus slightly wavering.

“You know what happened?”

“Are you asking me ‘cause you wanna know or because you already know?”

“I already know,” he sighed, lowering the hand pads.

He exhaled your name, shaking his and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “When are you two gonna stop playing around?”

“I really don’t understand, Steve.”

“You know why she broke up with him?” You blinked, tongue poking the inside of your cheek in anticipation of an answer.

“He moaned your name during sex.”

“God, that’s so corny,” you huffed, now beginning to make your way out of the boxing ring.

“So what, you’re gonna do nothing? Keep letting him use you?” Steve jogged to catch up to you.

“No,” you faced him, “I’m not letting him use me as a fallback anymore. I’m putting an end to it.”

Steve pursed his lips and shot you and exasperated look before shaking his head. “Don’t let something good go to waste.”

It used to be something good.

You wondered if you could hold up the promise you had just declared to Steve; in the past, you failed every time he showed up at your door. Bucky knew exactly how to play into your emotions, how to say the right things every time. And just like that, the next morning you’d end up in his arms. That stops today.

Determined, you practically punched the button to go up on the elevator and impatiently tapped your foot. As the doors slid closed, you took one look at yourself and turned away, fighting the urge to fix your appearance for him. The doors opened again and you check the floor number, ready to step out, but stopped at the sound of your name. His ex. You almost ran off, unwilling to put up with an angry ex, but she called on you again. You sheepishly stood there, as if you were the one who did something wrong, until she stepped in and pressed the button to go to the lobby.

The silence stretched on, much like your patience. Does she even know who you are?

“We were both fooling ourselves.”

You turn to check if she was speaking to you. Her stare was unwavering and she maintained eye contact that almost made you squirm.

“We both love different people.” She smiled, an obvious melancholy tainting her face. You stood there, absolutely clueless as to how you should respond.

“It’s too late for me, but it’s not for the two of you. Just... don’t let him go. He’s one of the good ones.”

You turned again, now looking down at the ground. Even if she expected you to say something back, it was impossible, at this point. Your mind was in shambles, everything she said contradicting the choice you made five minutes ago.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened and she stepped out. She turned one last time and nodded as if you knew what to do now.

Bucky’s door was unlocked. You called out his name, barely above a whisper and sauntered with hesitation lining your every step. Nothing. Empty. He wasn’t there.

It was a sign. You almost ignored the advice his ex gave, ready to walk into his room and end things. Your shoulder slumped as if your bore the weight of the world on them as you slunk back to your room. Now it would take another outburst or another month to prepare yourself to talk to him again.

As the days went by, you barely saw him around. It reminded you of the times he intentionally ignored you, except this time, you weren’t sure it was intentional. When you did see him, it was clear that he wasn’t doing good; his beard was unkept and scraggly, the bags under his eyes heavier than any trauma he carried. You pretended as though you didn’t notice and went about your routine.

1 AM

A knock sounded at your door. You knew who it was, how could you not, but hoped it wasn’t him anyway. The encounter would most likely end with tears or sex and you didn’t favour either outcome.

You waited a minute. Maybe he would leave if he assumed you were asleep. The knock sounded again.

You cracked the door open. Whatever you were expecting, surely, it wasn’t this. Eyes red and puffy, it was clear he had been crying and most definitely not sleeping.

He held up a wine bottle, and chuckled pathetically at himself.

“Maybe this is bad idea,” he sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his left arm.

It didn’t feel right to say anything. Rather, you opened the door wider and beckoned for him to step in.

“Emergency?” you asked with a little smile. God, you were so close to crying and he hasn’t even said anything.

“Oh yeah. Big emergency.”

He sat on your bed and felt the sheets, trying to remember the feeling of it on his knees. The days he would buck into you while you clutched them like a vice. The soldier pursed his lips and watched as you settled beside him.

“You don’t have to talk... if you don’t want to,” you said. Your voice cracked and you almost smacked yourself for being so weak around him.

“But I do. I should talk. I have so much to say... Can I explain?” He turned to face you, reaching out for your hands, holding them in his own. You didn’t say anything, opting to return his request with a pleading look in your eyes. He knew what the look meant: just don’t break my heart. Again. He took a deep breath in acknowledgement, trying to form the words that would help you understand.

“I can’t believe I hurt you. I swear, I didn’t know I was doing it, at first.” You mustered your best unbelieving look, almost scoffing for good measure. “No, really,” he hastily added.

A few tears streamed down your face and you frantically tried to wipe them. Bucky took one look at you before he began breaking down, tears slipping down his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry... I just- I don’t understand? I thought things were good?” you questioned. You had given up on trying to wipe your tears, as did he.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. And by the time I realized, we were so far in. Then I found a distraction... and I really thought I was over you,” he paused, wondering if he should continue or not. You showed no sign of speaking up, so he went on.

“I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I was so convinced that you wouldn’t blink twice but then... but, I-... I heard you at the door that day. I wanted to kick her out and hold you, but I-...”

“But you what? You what, Bucky?”

“I thought it was too late for us. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Then why are you here now?”

“Don’t be mad,” he murmured, retracting his hands and fiddling with his fingers.

“I don’t think anyone can ever replace what we had. Maybe... still have? Because you’re it for me. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that. I was on the brink of losing myself.” He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a new wave of tears. He mumbled your name weakly, croaking out a please at the end.

You curled in on yourself and fell into his arms, hoping that was enough of a answer.

“I can’t promise you that everything will be back to normal by tomorrow morning... but with some time, I can learn to trust you again.”

Above you, Bucky hurriedly nodded. At the state he’s in right now, you suspected that you could ask him to sell his soul and he would agree.

“And if you ever break my heart again-,”

“-I would die before that happens,” he finished for you, kissing the top of your head for good measure.

“I love you,” you whimpered, “so fucking much.”

“I love you too. I really love you too,” he affirmed and encased you with his arms again.

Though there had been some rough patches on the road to happiness, with Bucky by your side, you felt as though you could make it through anything; for that, is the power of pragmatic love.

an unfortunate ending.

The tears that would’ve been shed during the ceremony have dried on your pillowcase about five hours ago. Now, you sat beside the team, waiting for her to walk down the aisle.

Bucky looked nervous, as if he were reconsidering his life decisions. The little devil on your shoulder was holding onto every little thing he did: the wrinkle of his forehead, his repeated tugging on the suit and his flustered glancing around. Oh lord, and when he accidentally locked eyes with you? You may have bitten your lip and looked away in contempt but the shoulder-devil was as persistent as ever.

He secretly still wants you.

Shut up.

He wants to call it off.

Get a life.

At last, the lucky girl stood at the end of the winding path and you couldn’t help but sneak a look at the groom. His tension and nervousness crumbled at the sight of her; it was difficult not to feel happy that he had found the one that made him feel this way.

It may have been him for you, but that notion was long forgotten, a nuisance of memory at most. Your love for him, regardless of the storms it has endured, is no longer respected or wanted by either party.

If he loves her, why does he come to you when things get bad?

You shook your head at that, having no answer for the nature of his secret infidelity. It was nothing more than taking out his frustrations on you - much like the old days.

Your reminiscing was cut short when a voice asked everyone to rise for the bride. You stood and straightened out your outfit, flicking off the little white petal that clung to your maroon dress. A hand grasped your own, and you turned to see Steve smile reassuringly. You squeeze his hand in appreciation and turned your attention to the white-clad figure walking down the aisle.

And that’s all you remember. You wish you could recall the rest of the wedding. You really do. Too preoccupied with what was going to happen after the event, you disassociated from the ordeal altogether. No matter how hard you grilled yourself, nothing would come to mind - dissociative amnesia only occurs as a protective coping mechanism during traumatic events; was that what Bucky’s wedding was to you?

What type of question is that?

For once, you agreed with the little red beast that sat on your shoulder. Long ago, the first time you saw someone else Bucky’s arms, the devil pierced the pitchfork right through the angel’s heart. These days, it was all you could think of.

After the bride and groom exchanged ‘I do’s’, you willed yourself to stay a while longer. Your only companion, Steve, slow danced with you in silence, knowing that whatever he says would be of no consolation. Bucky did have half a mind to ask you for a dance, but he saw you leave. You didn’t think anyone did. He waited for you to turn and look at him one last time, but you never did. It’s okay, he thought. I didn’t deserve her anyway.

No one saw you after that.

On your bed, Steve found a single note that didn’t explain anything more than what he already knew. If anything, it simply affirmed that you were gone for good. Your things packed up, no trace of a person ever having lived there. Even if he pulled some strings, it would take years to find you again.

After all, you had already been lost for quite some time.

hey folks. i know this seems a little desperate-sounding but i would really appreciate reblogs and would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on the story. what was you favourite part? which part made you feel some way? i really love knowing these things. love each and every single one of you.

Masterlist

Shoot me a message or fill out the form in my bio to be added to my tag list!

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan character #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

283 notes · View notes

wh6res · 3 years

Text

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

Nightcall

Pairing: Thrawn x afab reader

Rating: Explicit (Very 18+)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: established relationship, edging, praise k!nk, very slight dom/sub undertones, interspecies relationship

Summary: Reader has had a VERY long day, and Thrawn is away from the Chimaera. Or is he?

Author's note: Hi! I'm finally starting to post fics to Tumblr again. I've been away for a bit, but I am very excited to write more. All my stuff is also on AO3 here! Any comments or reblogs are always greatly appreciated (seriously y'all leave the sweetest comments and it makes my day). Have fun reading my first ever attempt at smut and lmk if you'd like to be added to my tags <3

Today had been hell.

Thrawn had departed the Chimaera days ago to handle some business on Coruscant, and, as usual, Konstantine was using his absence as an excuse to be a massive pain in the ass. The Grand Admiral relied on you to help keep order just as much as he relied on Eli Vanto, but he was currently as busy as you were. So, the ever-glamorous job of making sure the Seventh Fleet remained in orbit mainly fell to you.

It was the fifth day Thrawn had been gone, and you were already fantasizing about throwing Konstantine out of the airlock. It would undoubtedly save the remnants of your sanity. He usually wasn’t blatantly insubordinate, but today he seemed to make an exception.

“I simply don’t understand why the Grand Admiral is insisting on holding this formation,” he exclaimed. “We should be chasing the rebels back to their base by now!”

Another headache was definitely coming on. I swear on every star in this kriffing galaxy…..

Your reply was icy and tinged with frustration, “Konstantine, if you wish to question the Grand Admiral’s tactics, you are more than welcome to discuss it with him when he comes back. Until then, we will be following the orders he left us with.”

He momentarily met your piercing stare before realizing any further arguments would be futile.

“Fine. I do believe I’m needed elsewhere,” Konstantine huffed as he departed the bridge.

For the first time in hours, the bridge was blessedly silent. You sank into a chair, rubbing your temples. Kriff, I definitely feel that headache now….

A sudden hand on your shoulder made you jump. You were so distracted that Eli might as well have materialized out of thin air.

“Hard day?” The corners of his mouth twitched as he attempted to stifle his amusement. “I heard you gave Konstantine a well-deserved earful.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Next time, it’s your turn. This is my fourth headache in the past five days.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? You’ve been working harder than anyone else on the Chimaera for days.” He lowered his voice before adding, “He should be back soon.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the news. You and Thrawn had gone to great lengths to keep your relationship secret from the crew, but Eli was too good of a friend to be kept in the dark. Besides, he would’ve noticed eventually that his two best friends were slightly more than friends.

Eli must’ve noticed the change in your expression, “Oh, you definitely need a break.”

He shoved a datapad in your hands and started pulling you to your feet, ignoring the numerous protests you gave him. “Here, take this to Thrawn’s office, leave it on his desk, and then you’re taking the rest of the day off. No arguments.”

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

Thrawn’s office was its usual freezing temperature. Even though your uniform had layers of thick material, the chill was easily seeping through them. Shivering, you placed the datapad on the large desk in the back of the room.

You turned to leave, but a pang shot through your heart as you looked around the empty room. It was normal for you to barely see Thrawn on the days he was especially busy, but it was always different when you knew he wasn’t on the Chimaera at all. Stars, you missed him when he was gone. Just knowing he was nearby on days you couldn’t see him was so comforting. “Soon” wasn’t a good enough time frame for when he’d return.

A sudden thought crossed your mind; nothing was stopping you from spending the night in Thrawn’s quarters. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence for you to sleep here, and it would be comforting. Besides, with your headache, you didn’t exactly feel like walking all the way back across the ship to your room, and his private quarters were conveniently connected to his office.

You began stripping off your uniform as you walked into the room and made your way over to the bed. It was still freezing, but every layer you removed took the worries of the day with it. Soon, everything except your bra and panties sat neatly folded on the bedside table. In this moment, you weren’t an Imperial officer; you were a woman climbing into her lover’s bed for comfort after a long day.

As soon as you slid between the soft, black sheets, you instantly received the comfort you were craving. They smelled exactly like Thrawn, crisp and clean, but with a unique depth cut by the citrusy scent of his favorite tea. You could almost imagine that he was actually there beside you. A contented smile crossed your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

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

You suddenly woke to a light caress on your cheek. In your groggy state, you didn’t fully realize what that touch meant until you leaned into it. You would have probably fallen back asleep were it not for the low, pleased murmur that followed your actions.

“Apologies, ch’eo bat in’a, I did not mean to wake you, but I was not expecting to find you here.”

Your eyes flew open in shock as you sat up and gasped, “Thrawn!”

The low light in the room illuminated the regal form sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. Thrawn’s usually unreadable expression was one of slight amusement mixed with another, softer expression. You couldn’t help but notice his beautiful azure-hued skin and luminous ruby eyes were only complemented by the dimmed light; you couldn’t help but think he was meant to be seen like this. He must’ve been tired from the constant travel, but nothing in his posture or expression gave it away.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again before reaching over to embrace him. Thrawn immediately wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly. Pressing your face into his chest, you quietly murmured, “I missed you.”

He said nothing, so you assumed he didn’t hear. You both sat contentedly for a few minutes and savored the intimacy before he moved one hand to stroke lazily down your back and the other to run through your hair. As you leaned further into his touch, he grabbed your chin and turned your head so he could press his lips to your ear.

“You are quite endearing when you’re half-asleep. It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

The praise combined with the sensation of his warm breath in your ear finally did you in; a flame began to spark to life in your core. You had missed him, and every single part of you was screaming for you to let him know just how much.

Before you could even move, Thrawn trailed his lips down to kiss your neck, and the flame in your core blossomed. You let out a quiet, breathy moan, and he immediately stopped.

Bringing his lips back to trace the shell of your ear, he rasped, “Oh? It seems you did miss me. How fortunate that I was able to return to you already in my bed.” He paused to lightly trace the outline of your bra before continuing. “And in something so pretty too. A shame that it will soon be discarded.”

You whimpered at his words as his lips renewed their brutal assault on your neck and upper chest. For what seemed like an eternity, Thrawn was content to lavish affection on the spots that provoked the greatest responses from you as his hands held you in place.

“Thrawn, please…. Touch me….” you begged, hoping desperately for him to comply.

He merely let out a dark chuckle as he chided, “Patience, ch’eo ch’itiseb, for every protest that leaves your pretty mouth, I will be sure to make you wait even longer.”

You bit back a moan at his sinful words; his eyes seemed to glow even brighter, and his smile turned feral. The look he gave you in return was simply predatory.

He continued to suck hickies into the sensitive skin at the base of your neck and around your collarbones. His tongue licked a long, torturous line up the column of your neck to kiss the area under your jaw. With every kiss, caress, and touch, the flame in your core spread throughout your entire body. He bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you melted even further into his arms.

“It seems you were able to learn an adequate lesson in patience, so now we may continue. Turn around for me,” he ordered.

You turned to face the wall as he returned to his previous position at the edge of the bed. He trailed his hands up your waist and around to cup your breasts. Thrawn may have decided that you could have more of his touch, but he still refused to dip his hand under the lacy fabric of your bra. Instead, he teasingly rubbed over the material to brush against your nipples. Your head fell back to rest on his shoulder as you pushed your chest out into his hands, still desperate for more.

“How very, very eager for my touch….” His tone was still infuriatingly collected for how quickly he’d reduced you into a moaning mess, but a slight accent began to mar his words. “Ch’itses’o euhn ei.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Thrawn unfastened and discarded your bra. Finally, he wrapped his hands entirely around your breasts. The sharp contrast between the warmth of his body and the room’s icy air only intensified the pleasure as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers.

You couldn’t help but moan his name again, loudly. Thrawn’s breath hitched before he let out a low, breathy moan, “Bun vn’inen’i. Let me hear you.”

His voice had always been profoundly attractive, but hearing him murmur filthy sentiments into your ear in his native tongue made you absolutely melt. You let out another gasp and rubbed your thighs together, seeking any friction you could find, keenly aware of the desire beginning to pool between them. In your desperate search for friction, you accidentally rubbed your ass back against him and felt his growing erection.

The contact made Thrawn hiss. In one fluid motion, he flipped you around, pushed your back flat against the mattress, and leaned over you.

It was moments like this when you remembered you were in the bed of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Thrawn’s ruby eyes glowed with lust as he gazed down at you. His feral smile returned as he studied his prize. “Allow me to show you just how much I missed you.”

He trailed kisses from your breasts down to your inner thighs, nipping at them slightly, then stopping to look up at you as he reached your panties. “These must go,” he murmured against your thigh. Thrawn took the band in his teeth and began to tug the panties off, using his hands to remove them fully.

Finally, you laid before him completely bare, and once again, he paused to appreciate your body. “Simply beautiful,” he cooed.

Thrawn returned to kiss your inner thighs before he spread your legs further. He moved to kneel on the floor at the side of the bed and pulled your hips to the edge. You knew exactly what was coming next. “Oh….”

You barely had time to moan before he swiped an experimental finger through your core. Under any other circumstances, you’d be embarrassed that you were already so wet, but Thrawn lit a fire in you that no one else could. Now it was his turn to let out a low groan at his discovery.

He didn’t waste any more time before moving one of his long fingers to lightly trace around your entrance. The torment of his delicate touch made you rock your hips upwards, desperately begging for more contact. Without warning, he pushed two fingers deep inside you, making your walls clench hard around them. You moaned and begged for more as he began to pump them in and out of your drenched core, causing your legs to shudder in pleasure.

“Look at you, I’ve only just started using my fingers, and you’re already shaking,” Thrawn groaned.

He brought you right up to the peak of pleasure before suddenly withdrawing. You sobbed in protest as he brought his fingers up to your mouth. “Clean them off,” he commanded. Hoping that he’d finish you off if you complied, you obediently took his fingers into your mouth and sucked all your juices off of them.

Thrawn was very pleased. He moved back down between your thighs and sucked another hickey on the delicate skin before returning his attention to your core. He slowly circled your sensitive clit with a finger before licking his way up to suck on it. Once again, he continued his attention until you were at the very edge before withdrawing. Being edged once was hard, but the second time left you an absolute mess.

When Thrawn looked down on you, covered in his marks, eyes glazed over in lust and absolutely begging for completion, he lost the remnants of his control. He leaned back up to murmur, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, how would you like me?”

“Stars, Thrawn, I don’t care. I just want you inside me now,” you moaned back at him as you reached up to help tug off his remaining clothing. After a few moments, he was also completely bare and leaning over you on the bed again.

With how desperate you felt, any time at all was too long, but your pleas and cries finally turned into more gasps and moans of pleasure as he finally lined his thick cock up with your entrance. The feeling of being so gloriously stretched and filled as he pushed in made your walls clench around him. Thrawn moaned at the sensation and began fucking you at a leisurely pace.

He leaned in to capture your lips in a burning, passionate kiss as his thrusts grew faster and your hips rose to meet them. His hands roamed your body, finding their way to pinch and tug at your nipples. You moaned into his mouth as you grew closer and closer to the high you’d been chasing all night.

Pausing between kisses, Thrawn suddenly grabbed your chin and stared into your eyes with his burning red ones before returning to kiss you hungrily. The unspoken message was clear: you were his. This new intensity, combined with his thrusts that came faster and faster, finally sent you over the edge into a shattering climax. Thrawn’s thrusts grew more and more erratic until he finished soon after you, coating your walls with his seed as he came.

As you both lay there in the afterglow, Thrawn mused, “I may have to find an excuse to be gone more often.”

Tags: @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @mittheresabosen @handbaskethell

#also on ao3 #Thrawn x f!reader #Grand Admiral Thrawn x reader #Thrawn x you #Star wars fanfic #rebels fanfic #thrawn x reader

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selfawarejester · 3 years

Text

It's The Vanilla And Spice That Does You In (Cora Hale x Reader)

Hey, Kit! Thanks for the first request dearest 🥰🥰! (I remembered that you wanted more Derek, so here you go!)

pairing: Cora Hale x Reader

rating: nothing saucy, they just sleep in the same bed.

You and Cora were never the closest people in the pack.

As a human, you gravitated to Stiles and Lydia — even though the strawberry blonde was a banshee, she was still more on your side of the scales than the others’. Scott was someone you’d spent many an evening with, third-and-fourth wheeling to whatever crazy theory Stiles had been plotting up in his room, which eventually led to you being accepted into the nerdtastic duo… and you don’t regret any of it.

Allison was a tad too serious, and you’d only really become friends with her after she broke up with Scott, which yeesh, but she still offered to help you learn how to defend yourself which you appreciated immensely. Similarly, Isaac was a friend, but you weren’t that close.

The Hales were a whole different can of beans. Derek used to be this terrifying entity that made you have a heart attack every interaction you had, but now was just a bitter, deeply flawed man that you used to crush on when you were a kid. Peter was the creepiest of all creepers, and you gave him a wide berth in every way possible.

Cora… well, she was nice enough. It was a distant kind of politeness, the kind that made you think it was just out of routine and not because she actually cared about being nice to you — the same way she opened doors for Lydia, or unscrewed jars for Stiles (though she did make fun of him mercilessly for it), or offered to walk with you and Isaac to Biology.

So, it happens during a pack meeting; or we’ll, right after one. You’re talking about implementing patrols, just to come out ahead of whichever serial killer was coming after all of you next. Stiles and Isaac had ended up arguing, of course — “Maybe this is just you being paranoid, Buzzfeed Unsolved.” “Hey, that is a great show, and it’s not my fault if you wanna be lazy, Lahey!” “Ha, big words from the guy who won’t be doing any legwork!”

And slowly, sides started to form, at which point Derek interceded and suggested that everyone go home for the evening and sleep it off. Stiles, Scott and Lydia took the chance and ditched everyone, eager to get away from the tension and finally introduce the girl to Star Wars.

Allison rolled her eyes, and leaned over to you. “Stiles is gonna regret it when she starts pointing out the scientific inaccuracies.” And you have to laugh, remembering the torturous night that she decimated Total Recall. But what shocked you was the chuckle that came from the other end of the couch, and the quirk of Cora’s lips as she browsed through her phone. You brushed it off, assuming that it was a meme or something.

“So. Do you need a ride home? It’s on my way.” Allison asks, and you refuse, citing that you wanted to help Isaac with biology.

“Oh, why didn’t you ask Lydia-?”

“Nope!” Isaac calls out from the kitchen, puttering in with arms stacked high full of snacks. “She’s mean.”

Allison… has to agree and leaves you to your studying.

Unfortunately, y’all are bad at it.

After a good thirty minutes of rage-quitting, Cora finally gives in with a loud groan that startled both of you. You hadn’t noticed that she was still there.

“Move over, dimwits, I’ll help.”

So, maybe you were ignorant or she was just great at hiding it, but she was great at Biology. Not Lydia level, but she understood the concepts well enough that she was able to tailor the explanation differently for you and Isaac. By the end of it, you were grinning widely, feeling like you actually understood something.

You thank her, saying as much, and there’s this underlying fondness to her smile — a very rare, pretty thing that you found yourself wanting more and more of — and jostles your shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, what’s going on here??” You all groan in unison, and ignore Peter leaning over the back of the couch to gaze intently on his niece… who’s sidled up to you pretty close. “You know, Ms. L/N, we have strict rules for our little girl.”

“Shut up, Peter.” Cora growls, throwing a venomous glare that you can’t help but try (and fail) to mirror. “Yeah, don’t you have other teenage girls to perv on?” Isaac chimes in, backing you up. Peter holds up his hands in mock surrender, before returning to his usual schmooze of I know better than you.

“All I wanted to do was tell you that the storm is getting really bad.” All of your heads’ snap to the window— god, it was really coming down. You had to walk back in that?? You’d die of hypothermia, if you didn’t slip or get in an accident.

“Sorry, Y/N, my music was turned up too high.” Cora says quietly, right next to your ear. A shiver goes down your spine, and you convince yourself it’s the cold, and shake your head. “Hey, it’s okay. You couldn’t focus, I get it.” And then you turn back, frowning at the lightning that lights up the loft for a moment. “But there’s no way I can go home tonight.”

“You can stay here.” You whip your head to Cora, wide-eyed but genuine behind you. You’re too thrown off-guard by her proposition to notice how quick it came, but Peter and Isaac do, sharing a sly glance before the teenage wolf realizes who he’s doing it with and grimaces, shaking his head. “Yeah, you can bunk with Cora.”

“Oh, I don’t wanna impose… I can sleep in Isaac’s.” You offer. You don’t want to impose, but you recognize the burgeoning bundle of emotion in your chest, and it won’t be helped by sleeping the same room as the gorgeous Hale. Cora shakes her head, pushing herself to her feet. “Won’t work, Isaac’s room is messy as hell-“ “hey!”

Peter slinks forward. “I would offer, but considering my history…” He turns his sharp look onto his niece, who’s scowling at him again.

“It’ll be easier this way. C’mon.”

She holds out a hand, and you take an embarrassingly long moment staring at it, before taking it and letting her haul you up. She urges you up the stairs to her room, shrugging off her jacket and kicking off her shoes with no hesitation, while you’re standing next to the doorway like a statue. She slants an elegant eyebrow, and your heart flutters because oh my god-

“Are you coming?” She asks slowly, before dropping onto the bed. You gape, pulling off your jacket and ditching your boots with no little trepidation. You sit on the bed with shaky moves. “Okay, why are you so anxious? I’m not going to make fun of your movie, I swear.” “W-what?” “The… movie? I asked you in the hall?”

Oh, she had? Okay. Okay, yeah, you could do a movie! You picked something funny, cheesy, a little kitschy — you wouldn’t be offended if she decided to tear it to shreds. But she doesn’t, just sits there and laughs at the jokes, and raises an eyebrow at the bits that don’t land. But she watches it seriously, much seriously than you, and when you bring it up, laughing and drunk off of Sprite, she just levels you with a serious look and says in a voice that sends shivers up your spine again. “It was important to you, why would I make fun of it?”

Now you know which of the Hales is the one with the game. Further proof is how Derek immediately barges in and glares at both of you. “That’s enough.” He bites out. “Sleep.”

You’re glad for the interruption, but Cora mutters something in Spanish under her breath, and you’re almost positive it was a curse.

You clamber down to the floor, pulling the extra pillow with you when Cora grabs your hand. “Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” You blink, and point downwards. “…to sleep?” And she laughs, pulling you back up. “Do you have any idea how much colder the concrete’s gonna get overnight? You’ll freeze. Just sleep here, I don’t mind.”

You should know better, you really should, but she’s so sweet that you relent and slip in beside her.

You usually can't sleep well in other people's homes - it took you months before you could even nap on Stiles' couch - but you don't even remember falling asleep.

All you can recall is the morning sun slipping through the slit in the curtains, falling on the wall opposite you thankfully and causing you to stir.

There's a delicate arm around you, but you know Cora's much stronger than her frame gives away. Her face is buried in your hair, which doesn't seem comfortable, but you can her breathing evenly. She smells great, like vanilla and spice... just as alluring and mysterious as the woman herself. Your cheeks color as she makes a content sound and cuddles into you closer. Her eyelashes are really long, closed and brushing across rosy apples cheeks. She never needed make-up, and it was obvious now, with her freckles in full display, with petal-like full lips that you gravitate towards...

You flinch when the door slams open again, a panting shirtless Derek glaring at you again.

"Rain's gone. Bye."

"Go away, Derek." Cora says, voice much too crisp and clear for someone still sleeping.

"Stop putting the moves on someone three feet from my room, and I will." He hisses, making Cora lift her head and give him an impassive look that sends him stalking off.

"He's got a point, you know." She says, shifting to sit up against the headboard, brushing silky chestnut locks away from her face. "How about breakfast at the little diner down the street?"

You grin as you realize what she's been playing at, very carefully poking at your boundaries and checking out your reaction, since yesterday.

"I'd love that."

#this got way longer than i expected #i hope you like it kit!#cora hale x reader #derek hale #peter hale #isaac lahey #teen wolf #cora hale #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #scott mccall #allison argent #teen wolf fanfiction

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aceinspace691 · 3 years

Text

Giant Dream is Scared of Humans Sapnap and George

Hey! This is a little story thing based on this post by @giant-tiny-squid!

I thought that it was a super interesting concept and I wrote a little more than I probably should have haha! Anyway here it is!

Warnings for: fear and swearing (I think that this is it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count ~1700 words

When Sapnap and George had set out to visit the Badlands on the other side of the forest, it had been a nice and sunny day. They’d been laughing and cutting up with each other, banter passing easily as they walked along the forest. Sunlight danced through the leaves and provided a pleasant atmosphere as they travelled. But about a fourth of the way through the forest, they could see dark storm clouds gathering in the sky at an alarming pace. They decided to pick up their own pace as well, hoping they would make it through the forest or that the rain would simply pass them so they could make it through the forest safely. Like most things regarding these two, it didn’t go their way. “Holy shit!” George let out a startled exclamation as boom reverberated to the forest, loud and quick to follow the flash that preceded it. Sapnap let out a sharp laugh, nudging George’s shoulder. The armor they wore made a clinking sound as it connected. “Awwww, is Georgie scared of a little thunder?” “Shut up,” George’s cheeks turned a bit red as he shouldered Sapnap back, “let’s just keep moving and try to find some shelter.” A few moments later, it started to pour down heavy rain, and they were soaked. The both of them room out their weapons as mobs began to spawn, George with a sword and Sapnap with an axe. It wasn’t long before they spotted a cave ahead and made their way to it, trying to shake off the water that dripped from them. “That was crazy! That came out of nowhere, like, holy muffins.” “You’re starting to sound like Bad.” Sapnap chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. “And seriously? You wanna talk about the weather of all things?” “What else would we even talk about? This dark cave?” George retorted. “Well, if you want to talk about the weather, I guess I could just make fun of you for your fear of thunder.” “What? No, it just caught me off guard.” “Sure,” Sapnap dragged it out with a smirk, not noticing how George went stiff. “I mean, seriously—“ “Sapnap, I—“ “No George, seriously, thunder? I mean I get if it was—“ “Sap—“ “Why do you keep trying to interrupt me? You know—“ “SAPNAP!” His voice echoed around the cave and Sapnap fell silent, finally following George’s gaze further into the cave. Right where they could see the silhouette of a giant. They couldn’t see much, just barely able to make out that it was likely male. Their attention was taken up by what little of him they could make out. But even then, they couldn’t see much other than a white smiling mask that covered a good bit of his face. There was a beat where no one moved, simply staring at each other, everyone in the cave tense. Anxiety pooled in the humans’ guts, intimidated by the being that could easily overpower the two hunters. And then lightning flashed, and oh. Oh. He was massive. And he was moving. As soon as there was any sign of movement from the giant, the humans let out a startled shout, Sapnap moved protectively in front of George, raising his axe defensively. But to their shock, the giant had moved further away from them. Not that there was much further he could go anyway from them; the cave itself wasn’t insanely large to begin with. The humans were stock-still, feeling confused as hell. Wasn’t the giant upset that they were in his cave, or whatever? Instead, as they examined the massive being not too far across the cave from them, George was first to notice how wide the green eye, which was just barely visible to them behind that smiling mask, was. The giant was... scared? But why, he was so much bigger and could easily defeat anything, so why...? Another flash of lightning was followed by a crash of thunder, which was then followed by a whine from the giant. George’s eyes softened. He must be scared of thunder. “Hey it’s okay, big guy.” He ignored the warning that Sapnap hissed under his breath as he stepped closer to the giant. His heart ached as the giant pressed himself further against the wall. “Thunder can be a bit scary sometimes. I know.” Sapnap, while George had though that the giant was scared of thunder, had connected the dots a bit better. He’d seen the way the giant eyed them and their weapons. And now that the giant was shying away from George of all people only further solidified that for him. Sapnap took a hesitant step forward to test his theory, the giant’s eyes snapping over to him at the movement. “Are you...” he licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “Are you scared of us?” He was met with a whimper from the giant, and Sapnap shifted his grip on the axe as the giant moved slightly. “Don’t hurt me.” The giant pleaded, green eye wide and watery with fear. Fear of the humans. “Please leave.” Now, both humans were utterly confused, especially George. However, their thought processes were a bit different on the situation. George wanted to immediately reassure the giant that they weren’t going to hurt him and was hoping he could convince him to let them stay. He himself was wary of being there with the giant, but it didn’t seem like he meant them any harm. Besides, there wasn’t really anywhere they could go. With the storm and mobs outside, it wouldn’t be a smart move to leave the cave. Sapnap, on the other hand, was thinking about how they could use the giant’s fear to their advantage. They could have a guard for the night, maybe longer. And that would mean that George would be safe. Unfortunately for the giant, Sapnap spoke first. “We won’t.” He told the giant, watching closely as the being seemed to relax a bit. “If,” and just like that he was tense again “you let us stay here tonight and keep us safe. And take off the mask.” “I—uh. Yeah, for sure, uh, deal, deal.” The giant was quick to agree, licking his lips as the slipped the mask off of his face. This, he hesitated with quite a bit, but he seemed to accept defeat as he removed it, revealing a lightly freckled face with a few scars. “Sapnap,” George hiss under his breath, “what are you doing?” “Just trust me.” He returned with a small smirk, looking back up to the giant and clearing his throat. His voice was louder as he addressed the giant again. “Tell us about yourself.” “I, uh, of course!” And just like that, desperate words began to spill out of his mouth. “I’m Dream. There’s not much to say about me, really. I just live out here. Well, not here here, but, uh I got caught out in the storm. That’s about it.” Dream was met with silence and chewed on his lip anxiously. He continued to ramble on, breathing picking up a bit as one of the humans shifted closer. The one with the sword, his mind helpfully informed him. “A-and I’m alone now and I won’t bother you if you leave or just let me leave and-and I haven’t hurt anyone, I swear, and so you don’t need to kill me. Or tell anyone about me. Or-or send anyone to hunt me down, just please.” This eyes were wide, and earnest, and damn his face was just so expressive. It made guilt worm it’s way into the humans’ hearts. “Woah, hey, nobody’s hurting or killing anyone.” Dream’s eyes snapped to the one with the sword. The one with the accent. “Why would you think that? Is that why you’re...afraid of us?” George looked up at the giant with big eyes, following the giants a panicked gaze to his sword and then to Sapnap’s axe. Realization finally clicked and he tucked it away, urging Sapnap to do the same. “Wha—George!” He whined. “Sapnap,” George warned. “But, I really think that—“ “Sappitus. Nappitus.” He was met with a groan before the other finally out his axe away, raising his hands and walking a bit further away to sit on a rock, murmuring under his breath. “Don’t worry about him,” George offered a small smile up at the giant, heart warming a bit at the tentative smile he got in return. “He’s just really protective of his friends. But you’re not going to hurt us. Are you?” Dream quickly shook his head. “No, and, uh, if you let me leave—“ “No.” George backtracked at the look on the giant’s face, and he shivered as a gust of wind blew into the cave and chilled his still-soaked body. “No, no, I just mean that we should all stay. You were here first, but me and Sap wont be safe if we leave either. Maybe we can work something out? I’m George, by the way.” He ignored the way his heart hammered as Dream hesitantly leaned closer, or tried to anyway. He still took an instinctive step back, and he could see something akin to recognition flashed in those big green eyes. “You’re scared of me too.” Dream breathed, the warmth washing over George. It took everything in him not to back away from the giant more as the breath gently ruffled his hair. He gave a slow nod, waiting for the giant’s reaction.

Would he realize that he could simply get rid of them? But... no, Dream just offered a small smile to the human and a soft, considering hum. “Uh, obviously.” Sapnap had stood up from where he was sitting, watching the scene carefully. “You’re kind of huge, dude. That’s why I didn’t want to put my axe away.” The three of them dissolved into a conversation, hesitantly at first and then getting a bit more comfortable as they worked out the details of their time in the cave. They came to the decision that they’d all stay for the night and then part ways, and they’d light a fire to warm up the drenched humans. “Wait, wait,” Dream was saying, choking back laughter as he shifted a bit closer to the humans by the fire. They were comfortable enough around each other now, but he still moved slowly, cautiously. “You guys were bashing me for being afraid of humans, who could kill me if they tried, but Georgie here is scared of thunder?” “Exactly!” Sapnap’s grin was wide as he laughed. “And he wonders why I teased him for it.” “Shut up!” George groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m not scared of thunder. And even if I was, like, it’s loud and lightning can hit you.” The three bickered for a bit before they fell asleep. And if the humans came back after the storm had cleared? Well, no one needed to know that, did they?

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

And there it is! let me know what y’all thought, and feel free to send my asks if you want! my box is open :D

#giant!dream #tiny!george #tiny!sapnap #mcyt gt #ace writes #sapnap and george are tiny but terrifying #to dream at least lol #its 4am why am I awake

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hoodieofholland · 3 years

Text

Handsome Man // Professor!Tom

Summary: you think your professor is a really good-looking man and let it slip out of your mouth.

Word count: ~2.9k

Warnings: none, except for some swearing.

A/n: I really liked writing the prof!tom universe and made it longer now (thanks anon that motivated me to write more about it). taking a moment to add that i always get this feeling that first encounter between reader and professor tom would be like fluffy as hell, he'd be so polite and that fucking accent of him ugghhh. Perfect. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

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"Good morning, everyone!"

You raise your head abruptly, snapped out of your thoughts. Which, by the way, were all directed to the man who was walking down to his desk with a sweet yet confident smile on his face.

"You all are looking so excited with Monday" he says playfully and the class laughs. "Hope I'm worth your tired time here this morning".

You straighten your back, picking pen and book from your backpack as Professor Holland organizes his materials on the wood desk.

You weren't a square at classes or anything like that. But surely you were never late for English classes, neither badly dressed up. You always made sure to pick your best outfit, not leaving out the professional look, all to impress your favorite professor.

Not that you were silly enough to believe something would come out from that strictly professional relationship, but it was inevitable for you wanting to feel pretty around him, as your imagination flew wild whenever he stepped in the classroom.

Professor Holland was really something else. He wasn't only a handsome man, with a noticeable muscular body hidden behind the much formal clothes he wore. He wasn't only the youngest professor in that department. He was intelligent, had a good sense of humor and was incredibly polite.

You could tell by the way girls always seemed to be extra interested on this class that you weren't the only one in the room to feel attracted to your professor.

You always made sure to ne early so you could take a seat in the front row, not to claim for his attention, but to be able to pain attention to the lecture and also get the opportunity to have a good look at him once in a while, mostly when he was distracted, sitting at his desk and taking notes on the classes' essays.

By the end of the lesson, he dismissed the students and you started to pack your things, barely motivated to your next classes. Now that you wouldn't have your professor's look to distract you a bit, it really felt like fucking Monday.

There were only around four students left in the room, and you, who was caring your notebook and pencil on your hands, walking directly to Professor Holland's desk clarify his small notes he took on your essay from last week.

Three girls were standing around his desk, smiling widely as he explained something that were on the board.

"But, Professor Holland..." one of the girls asked the same stupid question again, letting his name roll along her tongue, as she was savoring it. You roll your eyes, flicking your feet as you waited impatiently for your chance to have a time with him.

Professor Holland sighed and gently tried to reassure the group of girls that they could have the assistant to solve their other questions, as he was running out of time and there was another person he had to assist.

Finally, the girls gave in and passed through you, taking the time to send you a look. You just shrugged it off and walked to the Professor's desk.

"Miss. Y/l/n" he greets your, a small smile forming of his lips. Your stomach felt like flipping inside of you and you tried to keep your composure as you reached his desk. "Any questions left?"

"Actually, Professor..." you handed him the paper, a bit ashamed of he remembering it was yours and connecting the words you wrote down with your face. It was so much easier when you didn't see your professor reading your text. "I marked some of the notes you wrote and didn't understand, if you could help me".

He looked over the text, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows, and just when he lifted his gaze back to you, you felt your heart fastening.

"Of course", he gives you a tightlipped smile, grabbing a pen to point some of the corrections to you. "See, there weren't any big mistake on this, you could say I'm just a perfectionist. Actually, this was one of the best essays from the class".

Your eyes light up immediately, feeling too enthusiastic for the compliment. "Thank you, Sir. It means a lot".

Professor Holland nodded once, averting his eyes from you for a moment, his face taking on a more stern look. Then he started to explain his notes and you felt more relaxed as you notice it wasn't really that big of mistakes. You listened with full attention and commented on what you felt like could improve on your writing.

"I feel like if you take your time to rewrite it and survey some of your constructions, this text will be more than excellent" he pointed, handing you the paper again, a proud smile on his lips. Then, he chuckled a bit, playfully, "Obviously, the first score is the one that will be considered for your grade, so it's up to you. But I think it'll be a great work".

You smile happily. "Sure, I'll do it", you take the paper back again and put it inside your folder. Looking at the wall clock, you just notice it's too long past the break between classes. "Shit, I didn't realize it was past your lessons' time already. I'm sorry, I should be going-"

"It's alright, Miss. Y/l/n". He sends you a reassurance smile, putting a hand over yours for a brief moment, but that didn't make it go under your notice. "I'm always satisfied to waste a little more time on my most dedicated students, and even more glad that your questions wasn't about lessons itself", he grimaces and you could tell what he was referring too. "Not in my best behavior saying it out loud, but I was starting to think I wasn't doing a great explanation".

You laugh a bit and shake your head. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you're the best professor from this department. Plus, those girls weren't seriously having a problem with the subject" you roll your eyes softly, still smiling, but not quite realising what you had just said.

Professor Holland scowls, face confused as he catches your last sentence. "What do you mean?"

You froze, eyes widening as you gulp. "I-I mean- like, you were explaining it for the fourth time already... it wasn't possible that they didn't get it. I think they were more interested on... you know?".

He narrow his eyes, quirked his brow questioning, expecting you to explain yourself. A shiver pass through your body, embarrassment running right to your blushing cheeks as you struggle to find a proper answer.

"I mean, I think they were interested on... you". You almost cough, looking for somewhere else to stare in the room, avoiding your Professor's concentrated eyes. But as silent is completely made, you have to make sure he isn't mad at your stupid comment. Averting your eyes back at him, you are surprised to be met with his brown ones filled with what seemed amusement.

He was supporting his chin on his fist, a curious look covering his soft feature, hiding a smile behind the thumb pressed against his lips.

"Why would you think that?" He asked in the same amused tone and you never felt more stupid.

You wanted to slap your forehead and hide your entire self on the closest bathroom, but Professor Holland had those glistening brown soft eyes on you, nothing but a relaxed face put in your display, his sultry voice - which you were pretty sure wouldn't sound like this on purpose - incentivanting you to continue.

You cleared your throat and collected your devilish thoughts to think straight.

"I guess most of the girls here think you're, y'know, a handsome man" you shrugged, wanting so much sound casual, as that wasn't your personal opinion.

Mr. Holland raised his eyebrows, you couldn't tell if it was surprise for your answer or for your courage on saying that out loud. Maybe both.

"Did you hear that?", he questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. "From those girls?"

He got you. You knew that. He knew you were just making assumptions, which meant that could only be your own opinion expressed on the vision you had over other students.

"No", you answered under your breath, gulping. "It's just a guess".

Silent was made and you felt terrified. You truly started to think that Mr. Holland was planning the most tough comments on your behavior, that he would try to show you how unprofessional and not ethic at all was your opinion about him, that he was your professor and you were his student, nothing beyond that. But then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as his eyes concentrated on you.

He looked like someone who was pondering something, but your nervousness calmed down a little bit at the way he had his gaze over you. Though his eyes were dark, that couldn't be so bad, if he didn't have a mad expression on.

"Is it what you think?" He tried again, the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk. "Do you think I'm a handsome man?"

You close your eyes briefly, feeling past ashamed of it. "I'm sorry, it's pathetic, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Miss. Y/l/n" he chuckles softly. "Don't make a big deal out of it. After all, I'm not much older than you, am I? Shouldn't be so wrong to have an opinion about my looking".

He was taking it so calmly that you couldn't believe. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe he was so used to having girls head over heels for him that it didn't get on his nerves anymore.

You sigh and decide to agree better than discuss anything and make more shame on yourself. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that-"

"Mr. Holland?"

A voice interrupt him, and you turn your head abruptly to see another professor standing in the door frame, a case on his hand, eyes going between both of you. "Sorry for interrupting, but I'm giving my next lesson here. Is it taking too long, or...?"

"Oh, no", Mr. Holland smiled fondly and stood up, gathering his things from the desk. "Pardon me, didn't realize it was so late. Miss y/l/n, do you have any more questions left?"

You narrow your eyes at him, a bit taken aback as you knew you weren't making any questions seconds prior. He was lying, lying about the reason why the two of you were stuck in his classroom for so long. So you just nodded back and corrected your face.

"No, I'm fine, Sir. Thanks for your time" you smiled a little before turning in your heels.

The other man entered the class and started to put his things above the table, with Mr. Holland beside him. You were about to step out of the room when you hear your professor talking to you.

"Oh, and Miss. Y/l/n?" You turned your head to look at him again. He smiled. "It'd be lovely if you rewrite that essay. You can pass by my office later to show me your corrections, if you want to".

You blink, too surprised to answer right away. With a pounding heart on your chest, you nod, wishing nothing but to work on that useless essay as soon as possible.

____________

The day passes quickly, your mind too occupied with your essay. Missing some of your later classes, you saved time to stay until 6pm in the library, trying to come out with the of your writing whilst correcting the mistakes Mr. Holland pointed for you.

Certainly, that was the most dedicated you've ever been for a work.

But you couldn't resist the anxiety running through your body as you thought about walking down that aisle in the Professor Holland's office direction.

Again, you weren't expecting anything beyond him reading your text again, but the thought of seeing him alone one time was exciting itself.

You finish your work and put the paper inside a case, gathering everything together and walking straight to the aisle of English department.

It was empty and quiet, not a sight of any students neither professors around, as it was past the last lectures for the day.

Taking a few good breathes, you smooth your hand down your skirt before knocking softly on Professor Holland office's door.

"Come in!"

You turn the handle and open the door, closing it behind you. Mr. Holland looked tired, eyes heavy under his glasses. He also seemed busy, reading a book and taking his notes.

"Oh, Miss Y/l/n", he smiles warmly when his eyes lift to your face, waving a hand for you to take a seat in front of his desk. "Glad to see you. I suppose you made the corrections on your essay?"

You smile and nod, sitting down before reaching your paper in your backpack. "I added some other points I thought about when reading again", you hand him your essay and he takes it, fingers touching yours briefly, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Great" he looked over the paper, reading more cautiously at some point in the middle, where the biggest changes were made. He seemed impressed with your work and you couldn't help but feel the euphoria by each time the curve of his lips seemed to form a smile.

You looked over his office. It was small, but enough for one person only. There was a shelf full of books and a pretty tiny table across the room, cups, water and what you assumed to be tea inside a bottle on top of that.

"It's really cozy here" you speak out loud, more to yourself, wandering and picturing Mr. Holland sitting beside his little table and taking his tea while reading one of the shelf's book.

He smiles, lifting his glance from the paper to your face, which was still looking around. "You like it?"

You blink a few times before answering, a bit embarrassed that he caught your vague comment. "Yeah". His face held nothing but a contemplating look. "It must feel really good to have an office all to yourself".

Mr. Holland laughs quietly. "I don't spend too much time here to appreciate that much, actually", he admits. "Most of my time in the building is spent in classrooms and I pretty much like taking my work home, so... But, yes, it's good".

"I'd like it. Y'know, having somewhere you can take a time off and even have lunch when everywhere else is so full of people". You make your point, shrugging.

Something crosses Mr. Holland's face, but he quickly make it disappear.

"Well", he says, looking at your essay again after clearing his throat. "I like it very much. Not a single mistake this time. I can say properly now that this is the best essay I received for last week's work".

You smile widely. "Thank you, Mr. Holland".

He look up at your again, a small and hesitating smile on his lips. "You can call me Tom", when you open your mouth and say anything, he continues, "If you want. Mr. Holland just makes me feel so old".

You laugh at his grimace. "Oh, you're nothing near old, no worry on that".

Tom smiles more freely, if not smugly, and you feel your cheeks darkening in pink.

"Yeah, you think I'm... a handsome man, right?" He teases you and for a moment, it's not like your formal and professional professor is the one in the room anymore. You smiles sheepishly, bitting your lips to try to contain it.

"I'm sorry for that again", you shake your head, but Tom whines.

"If you don't stop with your apologies, I'm going to give you another essay to write". He says playfully. "I'm just joking, y/n".

Hearing your first name coming out of his mouth warms your heart and you feel like exploding in excitement.

"Wouldn't be such a punishment, I think" you admit, looking to your hands.

Tom narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth raising in a smile again. "And why is that?"

You bite your lower lips, pressing your fingers in the palm of your hand nervously as you think about what you're saying next, "Well, if it meant I'd have to come here to show you, I'd gladly write one".

Tom takes your answer slowly, smile growing on his face and he chuckles softly. "Really?"

"Yeah", you nod.

Tom stares at you for the following seconds and it's just as when you glance at the clock in his desk that yiu realize you've spent too much time inside his office.

"I think I gotta go now", you say, standing up and picking your backpack and essay. It wouldn't look good a student getting out of a professor's office so late in the night.

Tom smiled sadly and got up too, watching as you made your way to the door. But before you could open it, you remembered you last talk in the classroom.

"Tom?" You tested the name on your lips, savoring the liberty he had just given to you. He looked at you, waiting. "What was it you were going to say before that professor entered the classroom?"

He took a few seconds thinking and then a trace of a small smile came to his features.

"I was just going to say that I appreciate your compliment" he licks his lips and you smile. "Also, that you should know I think you're pretty gorgeous too".

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #professor!tom #prof!tom #professor!tom x reader #tom x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Note

anyway we could get a worried!hotch blurb when you’re in the hospital after getting injured? i’m a sucker for anything fluffy with hotch

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

i LOVE worried!hotch. i am always happy to oblige, anon! this is.........not a drabble lmao i got excited. its a little angsty but then its really cute i promise

i hope you like it!! it’s a common scenario with a widely accepted structure, so i was excited to put my own spin on it :)

words: 1939 warnings: swearing, canon-typical injury, medical setting, a very worried hotch

masterlist | requests closed

+++

You weren’t sure how this case slipped from the team’s control so quickly, but somehow you were alone, on the floor with two black eyes and at least three broken ribs. It was hard to breathe, and something really didn’t feel right.

The unsub was unconscious beside you, felled by a well-placed kick to the jaw. You crawled to your cell phone. Slowly. Painfully.

The coughs that shuddered from your lungs were wet and heavy and you could barely see. You turned your phone on and called Penelope, falling unconscious before you could say anything. With any luck, she would be able to find you with just that much.

+++

Hotch’s knuckles were white where his fingers strangled the steering wheel. His only focus was the coordinates he just received. Ignored was Emily’s death grip on the handle above the door. Ignored was JJ leaning into the front over the center console, getting more tactical information from Derek, who was still at the precinct. Ignored was the ache in his clenched jaw.

The door to the house nearly fell off its hinges when Hotch kicked it open, the SUV forgotten on the lawn behind him. Emily followed, striding through the house and clearing every room before moving on.

Hotch made a beeline for the basement, the door carelessly left open. The lack of sound acutely disturbed him, and he pushed away images of Haley’s body, laying silent on the floor of their guest room.

Silence, he knew, often meant unpleasant surprises.

JJ’s light footsteps followed behind him as he descended. He saw the unsub right away, stirring at the foot of the stairs. JJ branched off, checking the unsub’s pulse before rolling him over and cuffing him. She called for Emily, but the rushing in Hotch’s ears made it hard to hear anything.

He knelt beside you, finding a pulse and rattling, labored breathing. There was blood weeping from wounds laced across your side, arm, and thigh. He put pressure on the worst of it, his white button-down a lost cause. stained red to the elbow.

Images of Haley and Kate flashed before his eyes, and blinked them away, violently shaking his head.

“Call medics! Now!” He lifted your head, supporting it in the crook of his arm as he did his best to cover your wounds with his bare hands.

You coughed, your consciousness returning for a moment, “Aaron.” and there was blood. “Aaron...”

“You’re okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m here. Medics are on their way, I promise. I love you. You’re okay. I love you.” He wanted that to be what you heard, so you weren’t scared, so you stayed awake.

So much blood.

+++

The waiting room was quiet. Hotch sat with his elbows on his knees, blood still spattered on his shirt, staining his hands, streaked across his face. He’d done his best to give the paramedics the space they needed to work, but it was hard to watch as you struggled for breath.

One of your ribs had punctured a lung, collapsing it. They said surgery would be a couple hours, but there was a good chance you’d make it. “A simple patch,” the nurse said.

Aaron stared into nothing, his eyes close to crossing as the tiles blurred in front of him. Belatedly, he realized the blur was tears.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. Dave.

“It’ll be alright, Aaron.”

He barked a quiet, humorless laugh. His voice was raw when he replied. “How can you know that?”

“Because I know you.” Dave paused. “And I know there’s more to it than what we all see in the office.”

A bag was dropped at Aaron’s feet, in front of a pair of boots.

“Hotch, you need to get cleaned up.” Derek’s voice was shockingly gentle.

Aaron looked up for the first time in what felt like hours. JJ, Spencer, and Emily stood a little off to the side. With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and snatched the bag from the floor.

It was hard for him to wash your blood from his hands and face. It felt like a piece of you, washing down the drain. His hands shook as he washed them over and over, well above his elbows.

As much as he hated to admit it, the soft grey cotton of his shirt felt much better against his skin than his sticky, stiff dress shirt. He mechanically slipped on a pair of worn jeans and sneakers, thankful he thought to pack them in the extra compartment of his go bag.

One of your sweatshirts was at the bottom of the duffle, probably from the last time you spent an unsanctioned night in his hotel room.

He held it to his face, your familiar smell overwhelming his senses. When he placed your sweatshirt back into his bag and packed away his soiled clothes, his hands weren’t shaking so much. His breath came easier.

The air conditioning felt cool against his bare arms when he finally left the bathroom, returning to the huddle in the corner of the waiting room. JJ was doing her best not to pace. She was seated, her leg bouncing and the inside of her cheek firmly planted between her teeth. She looked ready to jump to her feet at any moment, which probably explained –

Derek, sitting beside her, his arm looped through hers and his legs splayed out before him.

Dave sat with his head bowed, and Hotch was near-certain he was praying. Emily sat beside him, her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping. Her brows were far too drawn for that, her mouth too tense. She was picking at her nails. Again.

Spencer, of course, was reading, but he couldn’t sit still. He shifted and shuffled every few minutes.

+++

“Goddamn it.”

Hotch smacked the vending machine with the heel of his hand. It had already eaten five dollars, and his patience was admittedly running thin. It was the fourth hour of your surgery, and he was feeling the weary weight of constant vigilance.

“Hey. Hotch.” Emily trotted up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me.”

She gently fed another bill into the machine, and a bag of chips met their match and landed at the bottom. She handed the bag to Aaron and guided him to a nearby bench.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two, or should I take a guess?”

Aaron sighed and pulled a hand down his face. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“It’s as good a time as any. Neither one of us are going anywhere.”

“Prentiss...” He trailed off, not sure where to start. He looked over at her. “Emily.”

She shuffled closer to him and mirrored his posture, her elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely laced. “Just start from the beginning.”

So he did.

He told her about meeting you in the elevator for the first time.

He told her about the way you tripped up the stairs just outside the entrance to the office the second time you saw each other, your files scattering on the snow-dusted concrete.

He told her about the way you made him laugh.

He told her about your first date a few months later, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head.

He told her how you were with Jack, how often his son asked to see you and the way you always gave him your full attention.

He told her about your transfer into the unit, the dichotomy between the joy of having you beside him and the fear for your safety in the field.

He told her that he loved you, in so many words.

“I feel alive,” he said. “I can’t lose –“ He cut himself off and swallowed thickly.

“That’s not gonna happen. It’s not. You’ll both go home at the end of this.” She bumped his shoulder playfully. “And I am the authority on near-death experiences, here.”

Aaron gave her a small smile in spite of himself.

Emily stood and brushed imaginary crumbs from her pants in an authoritative and decisive fashion. “Now, I’m getting you some coffee. Eat your chips, Hotch. Try to taste them, too.”

She’d only taken three steps, when -

“Hey, Emily?”

She turned over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

+++

You opened your eyes to the image of Derek sitting next to your bed, peering at you.

“Jesus Christ, Morgan.” You couldn’t help but jump a little, and your ribs twinged. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He grinned at you. “So. You and Hotch?”

You rolled your eyes, and even that hurt. “Seriously? How long have you been sitting there waiting to ask me that?”

“Three and a half hours.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Aaron stepped in before you could draw breath. You watched him as he crossed the room with purpose and set his coffee down.

Ignoring Derek entirely, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips, then your forehead. He took your hands in his and pressed kisses to those, too.

“Feeling better?” He asked. The transformation of the man who walked through the door and the man that held your hands was stark. His eyes were softer, brighter, his shoulders lower.

You nodded, smiling fondly at him. “Much better, now.”

A noisy sigh erupted behind you. “Guys...c’mon.”

You looked back over at Derek with a smile, the shadow of Aaron looming over your shoulder.

+++

At the end of it, you were fine. Your lung was repaired (for the most part), your wounds mended. The hardest part was taking time off, and the physical therapy.

Physical therapy sucked.

Most afternoons found you spending time with Jack at the apartment. As soon as your arm was strong enough to manage a controller again, you spent hours playing his favorite games with him while the team was away on cases.

Your office at home had become essentially a satellite BAU hub. The team phoned you in to almost every case, and you took a great amount of joy curating maps and profiles from your office. The display was rather beautiful, at the end of it. Notes and photos and maps all over the walls.

There were footsteps behind you as you finished pinning a post it to the board. “Hi, jet-setter.” You turned around and quirked a smile at him, admiring him in one of his new suits. He walked toward you, leaving his briefcase at the door.

He framed your face with his hands and you leaned into him. He kissed you gently, and you slid your hands under his suit jacket. The light, spicy scent of his cologne hit your nose and you smiled against his mouth.

“I missed you out there,” he said, his lips traveling down your neck and jaw.

You huffed a laugh, and you planted your hands in his hair. “I was on video with Penelope the whole time.”

He hummed into your skin. “Not the same and you know it.” He pulled back, running his hands over your upper arms.

You watched him take stock of you, his eyes tracing over the scars on your forearm, your pinkie that wouldn’t quite sit straight anymore, and the nebulizer on your desk behind you. “I’m alright, Aaron.”

He kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you to his chest. “I know.” Your hands curled around the fabric of his dress shirt at his sides. He tucked his head and pressed his lips to your skin. “I know.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmikis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @wannabewinchester67 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #anon reply #i'm not even gonna pretend this is a drabble #so i wont tag it as such lmao

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julyarchives · 3 years

Text

Scintilla (M)

Having to deal with the most handsome and cocky nemesis can be fun when that person is Yanan

→ Pairing: Yanan x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words: 2.6K

→ Contains: Smut; Enemies To Lovers; Mafia AU, Semi-public sex.

→ A/n: This was very fun to write and we may have gotten carried away, hence the word count lol. We truly hope you guys enjoy it, we think there’s too little Yanan on our blog so we decided that the next story will also be an Yanan imagine, although the plot will be completely diferent. Good reading!

Check the sequel HERE

You were born into this, but it wasn't like you are involved against your will. Your father is the head of an organization that runs half of the city through technically not legal ways. People call it mafia, you call it a family. You learned from your father how to be a good leader, how to be tough, and to not let anyone step over you. You were ready to make this organization your legacy and nobody could take that from you.

Except for one person.

The other half of the city is taken by a different organization. An enemy. And just like you, someone else wants to make their legacy. His name is Yanan and he is the prodigy you should keep an eye on, the one who threatens everything you stand for.

Yanan and you have been in war since you can remember always racing to be one step ahead of the other. You two wanted different things, had different visions that clashed and were not possible to execute simultaneously. You were mafia but you had your morals, and what his crew does is not what you want for the city, and that's why things never go well if you two are in the same room. Today is one day that you two have to be in the same room. Your dad is meeting with his, the current leaders, to discuss the limits and business, and you two as heirs will be attending.

Sitting on opposite sides of the table, Yanan simply does not stop staring at you. He has this stupid smirk on his face, like he knows all your secrets, presumptuously assuming he has some kind of upper hand. At some point, you two were excused so they would discuss private aspects reserved for them only.

You stood at the door, and he positioned himself by your side, lazily leaning against the wall.

“You know, y/n” Yanan was the first to break the silence between you “coming to these meetings is always so fun.

You rolled your eyes, already anticipating some snarky remark from him.

“Why is that, Yanan?” you said impatiently

“Because one day it will be us there, and I’m pretty sure I can have you on your knees for me.” His smirk grew wider “figuratively, of course”

He winked and your stomach turned.

“Gross.” You simply answered “And as if. I’ll have you destroyed in no time. Your little business will be nothing once I’m in command”

“Cute” he chuckled.

"You know what's cute?", you smirked at him. He hummed in answer. "You, wasting my time to brag about your defeat".

You walked away, leaving a laughing Yanan behind. You had no idea why the banter between you never ceased, you both sounded like teenagers sometimes and he annoyed you to no end but as you took your place at the driver's seat in your car, you smiled without thinking.

All the Yanan situation was forgotten as you arrived at the nightclub. You were supposed to meet a guy there, a date a friend got you swearing the guy was hot enough to forget about some felonies. In the state you were in, all you wanted was to get laid so you agreed. The club was not packed, it was not a full day but still seemed like fun, the music was loud by the dance floor but the bar and the entrance had music low enough to hear people talking. You spotted some familiar faces from your gang and some others from Yanan's, the club being a very middle term and neutral place in town.

The guy spotted you as you spotted Yanan coming back from the bathroom doors and for a second you were confused. The guy was all smiles at you but your eyes seemed too curious about Yanan's posture, you hated seeing him here, he always managed to look extremely hot at the club. Shaking those thoughts away, you turned to the guy, finally giving him your full attention, not before seeing Yanan wink at you. You took a seat by a couch, with the guy close to you. Your friend was somewhat right, the guy was kinda cute, but didn't quite match your tastes but you swore to give him a chance.

An hour later you regretted even leaving home. The guy was such a bore you couldn't stand, his voice was annoying you in a way you never thought possible. His only subjects were his family history and his adventures. Many ridiculous adventures. Not once he asked you about yourself, just speaking nonstop with the cockiest grin ever. Once he tried to touch your thighs but you shook his hand away and ordered your fourth drink.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt", someone said just as you were praying for the first time in your life for a rescue.

Looking up you scoffed. Of course, God sent you Yanan to rescue, like a mean genie that twisted your wish. The asshole was hotter up close and that annoyed you even more. You realized that you truly needed to get laid, more than ever, to even consider Yanan this attractive.

"Y/N. Urgent call, sweetheart. You know, heir business".

The boring dude asked something about heirs but you got up immediately. Business was business and any chance to leave the guy was a chance. You followed Yanan closely to the back doors and sighed in relief when you get fresh air outside. Yanan leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette lazily, he had a very much shit-eating grin and wiggled his eyebrows at you. It all clicked.

"There's no call, is there?", you asked, already leaning on the opposite wall and taking the cigarette pack and lighter from him. He managed a small "no" between his grin as you lit your own cigarette freshly stolen from him.

"Why were you with that idiot?", he asked seriously after some minutes of silence. The alley was well lit enough but seemed cut off from the rush of the club.

"I honestly don't know. A friend set us up but that was such a stupid idea", you laughed at your own misery. You didn't even know why you were being so honest with him. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe the frustration.

"Do you need to get laid that bad, Y/N?", he scoffed, "that idiot tried to get in with our business once. He was so stupid he got arrested a week later picking pockets at a football game".

That made you crack. You laughed hard, thinking of how lame the guy was, your power situation always being your most proud deed. You finished your cigarette and tried to light another but Yanan snatched it from you, pocketing the items before you managed to get one cigarette out.

"Shut up, Yanan", you said, crossing your arms almost like a stubborn child whose toy got snatched.

"I mean it, is that how desperate you are?", he moved his head to the side, analyzing you. Shit. For a second you wondered if all his endless innuendos with you actually meant something that you never read but dismissed it quickly. No way. Yeah, he was hot but he was a cocky annoying enemy and you were just lonely.

"What kind of question is that, Yanan? Are you that interested in my sex life?"

"Yes", his simple answer shocked you, your mouth agape. He smirked. "I almost never see you with someone and always wondered why. I think you're too hot to be that lonely, you know?"

"I never see you with someone either", was your smart comeback and you wanted to kick yourself.

"Who's interested in who's sex life now, Y/N?"

"Shut up, Yanan", you said with no bite, looking away from him.

"Maybe…", he said it like he was architecting a plan, "maybe I am a bit lonely as well. I mean, I get you perfectly, don't I? We have the same position, same problems…", he got close to you in seconds and you didn't even hear it, soon enough he had a finger running along your neck to your scalp, "same needs".

You'd definitely blame the alcohol tomorrow. And the boring guy. But right now you couldn't care less, he was blatantly teasing you and he did make sense. You both had similar life and of course, you two were lonely, in this line of work and life you can't trust anyone. Or almost anyone. That was your resolution as you grabbed him by his leather jacket and pulled him for a bruising kiss. You decided that if anything were to happen, he would not be in charge.

Yanan seemed to be expecting that, you felt him smirk in the kiss and fist your hair quickly. The kiss was hot and you both moved with your bodies, a full fight for dominance. You knew you had the upper hand when you moved your hips to rub against him and felt his semi-hard already, earning a groan. His free hand grabbed your ass with force, not even hiding his intentions, and lucky you had the same ones, you used his hair to guide the kiss, never letting go of his jacket.

Even as you or he needed to pull back to breathe you'd stop, the kissing was replaced by nibs and sucking, you knew both of you would be marked tomorrow and that made you win this as well, leaving many hickeys on his neck and collarbones. You thanked his unique ability to wear loose thin shirts that allowed you to reach downwards on his neck while he fumbled to reach your bra in your tight fit shirt. Saying fuck it to any last reasonable thought, you pulled back entirely and took your shirt off, quickly pulling his jacket away. Yanan got the hint and took his shirt off, going for your bra seconds later, not wasting time and already teasing and sucking on your nipples.

Of course, his mouth would be heaven, you thought. He never stopped talking and teasing you all his life, his mouth always drove you crazy and now you discovered he could get you crazy with his mouth in some other way. His thigh reached your covered core and you shivered, you automatically riding his thigh with want. Yanan grunted out your name, his hold on your ass coming back to help you move with even more force, his dick rubbing on your jeans pants with the movement. It felt like you stayed that way for a long time, you needed more but it was too good to stop, his mouth doing wonders on your neck and boobs, it was leading to a very strong orgasm, you could feel it.

Suddenly he stopped you, getting his thigh out of reach. He laughed at your involuntary whine and leaned over, hands massaging your breasts.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you cum with my thighs only?", he nibbled your ear, "what kind of asshole do you think I am?"

The wetness in your panties got even damper with his words, your hands already opening your pants. Yanan followed your lead and soon both pants and underwear were by your ankles. But before anything could happen, you put both hands on his chest, feeling his strong body with more calm.

"Don't make me regret this, Yanan. This better be good", you meant to be serious but his cocky smile made the corners of your mouth move upwards without intending to. He whispered your name and gently held your chin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips that got you both gasping softly.

"Can you turn around, please? With the pants where they are, I think it'll be better this way", he asked, too calm for the situation. You hated to agree with him but moved in silence. You placed both hands on the wall and bent over, looking back only to see him watching you with dark eyes. He was stroking himself and fully moaned when you placed your fingers in your entrance to tease him. It was Yanan that yanked your wrist back and even from behind you saw him suck your fingers next to your head.

"You taste so good, Y/N. Maybe next time".

Next time. Was it even going to have the next time? You didn't even have time to think it over before he pushed his dick inside, slowly but surely. You moaned at the feeling, hands turning into fists from how good that was. You could feel he was no better than you, hips spasming to move already even if he was waiting for you to adjust. When you pushed back he held your waist and wasted no time in moving. He got his member almost completely out only thrust in fast and hard again.

Yanan held that rhythm all along and if you had any coherent thought in your head, you'd praise his physical strength and stamina. But you didn't. He was giving it to you and it felt like magic, he knew how to move and where to move exactly as you needed him to without you having to guide him. He was hitting your g spot dead on and it took all of you to not scream his name over and over in the small alley. His expert fingers moved to your clit and rubbed it deliciously, making you writhe against him.

"Keep that up and I'll come too soon, I'm so close", you said, already clenching at how he was touching you.

"I'm close, Y/N. Shit, come with me", he breathed it out against your ear.

You'd deny it forever but his pleading voice did the trick. You came with a cry you couldn't hold back. Vaguely you heard Yanan curse at how you clenched around him and you felt him release. You two moved until both came back from the high, now the silence was coming back but you were too tired to care.

He stepped out and got his clothes back on first and followed, tired hands retrieving pieces of clothing from the ground. You heard him chuckle, looking at nothing specifically and you somewhat understood. You laughed quietly and you exchanged a look.

"So, Y/N, any regrets?", there he went. The same old annoying bastard.

"Shut up, Yanan", you laughed, throwing his jacket at him.

"I will start to collect streets from your domain every time you tell me to shut up, by the end of a year you'll have no more power, Y/N", you both laughed out loud and you shook your head.

"What do you wanna do now?", you said, reaching for his cigarettes in his pocket.

He only raised an eyebrow at you and extended his hand to collect his items after you used them. With both cigarettes lit and smoke clouding the air a little, he huffed.

"I'd invite you over to my place for more and just for tonight, I'd pretend we're allies and not enemies. I truly think we are similar, Y/N", Yanan was not looking at you.

"Alright. Lead the way, Mr. I'm-just-like-you", you mocked him with a very bad imitation of chis voice and you laughed at both your joke and his shocked face.

"May I hold your hand, m'lady?", it was his turn to mock your voice, a quick recovery from his shock.

"Don't push your luck, sweetheart". You used the same nickname he used with you earlier and he laughed, walking back into the club without saying a word and without looking back.

You threw your cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it, shaking your head. Tomorrow you'd deal with all the consequences but tonight you were willing to let this good sparkle inside your belly make decisions for you. Just tonight.

#ksmutclub #pentagon smut #yanan #yanan smut #yanan x reader #yanan x female reader #pentagon yanan #pentagon #kpop pentagon #pentagon imagine #pentagon fanfic #pentagon scenario #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #mafia au #enemies to lovers #yanan enemies to lovers #yanan mafia au

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

Text

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 2

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 3323

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Crying, Depression, Casual Suicidal ideation, Depriving someone of food, Captivity, Solitary confinement, Knife, Threats of violence, Swearing, Mentions of abuse/torture, Injuries, Panic Attack, Food (Let me know if need to add anything!)

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The first night, Logan screamed himself hoarse well into the middle of the night. His body ached with misery, as he yelled and pulled at his restraint. His wrist was bruised and he could feel a this stream of blood dripping from where the metal had cut into his skin but he kept fighting until his body collapsed with exhaustion and he was forced into a restless sleep.

Agony burned in his chest as the long hours dragged by in absolute silence. Being alone was a rare experience for Logan and one he adamantly avoided. While the sound of the constant chattering of strangers thoughts would probably sound nightmarish to the average person, he'd grown accustomed to the comforting presence of others' thoughts. He was used to the white noise, and though he knew it was irrational, the sudden silence growing nearly painful with every hour that passed.

The second night, the isolation started to dig its claws into the corners of his mind. The restraint on his wrist limited his movement to only a few feet around the bed and so far, he'd spent hours staring into the empty window on the far side of the room. Anger twisted in his stomach at the thought that he was likely being watched through the one-way reflective surface and he felt like screaming at his silent observers until his voice gave out, but the previous night’s experience had already proved that effort would be futile. Expending the energy would only make him hungrier.

All he could do was wait.

The third day, he'd woken to find the restraint on his wrist had been released while he'd slept. He blinked, unsure of what this new revelation meant for him. Rubbing his sore wrist, he sat up to scan the quiet room. The door remained closed, and likely locked, but somehow a container of water has found its way into the room. He stepped off the bed, glancing cautiously at the one-way mirror as he approached the glass jug sitting at the base of his door. He was aware of the danger. Tampering with his water supply would be a simple way to entrap him or drug him, but his thirst quickly overrode any hesitation he had. They were his only access to resources and he knew he'd have to give in eventually or risk simply dying of dehydration. Not to mention, quite frankly, if the people in this place decided to kill him, he had little recourse in stopping them. No amount of bargaining would change that fact that he was at their mercy.

Next to the water, he found a fresh change of clothes. The sight of fresh white hospital-like clothing brought a bitter taste to his mouth as memories of the night before came rushing back. He hadn't seen a hint of another person since the doctor had left him, taking with him the only people who might be even remotely sympathetic to his situation. He brushed his thumb over the stiff fabric picturing the faces of the two other prisoners who'd been dressed in the same sterile uniform as he now held in his hand. Still, he changed his clothes, feeling a new level of numb as he changed in front of the window.

Numbness had settled in fully by the fourth night. The hunger left him too weak to stay focused on anything for long. The water provided for him sustained his body in only the barest sense and he could feel his willpower draining away as he spent more time curled in his bed, mind blank as he succumbed to the silence. That night, a particularly sinister breed of depression had taken root in his mind, pushing him toward the precipice of giving up. Dark, self-destructive thoughts clouded his mind as finally drifted off to sleep, making his abrupt awakening all the more jarring as he opened his eyes to find a sharp blade pressed to his throat and a shadow with glowing purple eyes looming over him.

“Move and I'll slit your throat.”

Pure adrenaline flooded over Logan at the familiar voice. The man who'd nearly strangled him the first night straddled his chest, silhouetted against the dark room by the eerie red light. Logan swallowed, barely breathing as he as he pressed himself backward, tilted his head away from the blade.

“You will answer my questions.”

A whimper escaped Logan’s lips, but he forced a small nod, hardly daring to move under the delicate pressure of the sharp blade.

“Why's Picani interested in you?”

“I don't kn—”

“Find a better answer.” The man's hiss sent chills down his spine as the knife moved up Logan’s neck. “The other night, you blew me back into the wall like a goddamn ragdoll. What’s was that?”

Logan sucked in a shallow breath as he struggled to keep his weak body breathing. “Tele—telekinesis.”

“Do not fuck with me right n—”

“I’m not—” Logan breathed, closing his eyes. “I can move things with my mind—”

The blade pressed against his throat with a preciseness just short of drawing blood. “If that were true, why haven’t you blasted me again?”

“I—I don't control it. I never learned how.” Logan blinked, surprised as the blade released a touch of pressure. He blinked, staring up at blank expression on the man's face as he continued.

“Picani’s guard said you'd feed on me.” The man growled his disbelief as he glared down at Logan. “Explain.”

“I don’t know what he was—"

“Not good enough.” The man's deep voice growled above him as the blade returned to his throat. "If you don't start talking, I'll—"

“Please—” Logan whimpered as the sharp nicked his throat and a thin line of blood dripped down his neck. “—It's not what you think.”

“Then explain,” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued but the pressure of the blade eased slightly. “before I start to get impatient.”

Logan swallowed, feeling a wet streak trail down his face. “Others’ thoughts—I hear them.”

“Are you telling me you feed on my thoughts?”

“No—“ Logan whispered as tears flowed freely down his face. “Please, I don’t know how it works but I can’t—It doesn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone. Please—”

Logan clenched his eyes shut, stifling a terrified whimper as the blade moved up his neck. His heart pounded in his chest until the blade lifted slightly from his throat and a wet sob escaped his throat. He sucked in a breath as the man leaned back, knife still pointed in Logan's direction as he continued in a hushed tone.

“Are you listening to my thoughts right now?”

“N—no,” Logan breathed, avoiding the man's eyes. “I'm too weak. I can’t—I can’t do anything.”

The man was quiet for a long moment, eyes glinting in the red light as he stared at Logan. “What'd he do to you?”

“Who?”

“Picani,” The man's voice softened slightly. “The doctor, I mean. What's he done to you?”

“I—I’ve been kept alone and—” Logan bit his lip, uncertain about sharing the true depths of his weakness. “—and I haven’t eaten. Anything that fuels my power, he's taken it from me. I can't—I can't hurt you."

The silence hung in the air for a long, tense moment before the man spoke again, knife still inches from Logan's throat.

“Close your eyes.”

A chill crept up Logan’s spine at the seriousness in the man's voice. “Please, don't—”

“Don’t argue.”

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as the glisten of the blade pointed at him inches from his face. Stilled trembling and tense, he let his eyes flutter closed.

“Move your hands where I can see them.”

“I'm already blind—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Fine.” Logan muttered as he rested his head back on the pillow, lifting his hands in apparent surrender. After a moment, he could feel the bed shift as the man climbed off the bed in absolute silence. Logan strained his ears, but he was unable to trace the man’s careful movements after he stepped onto the flow. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to remain still, unsure of how the man would react to even the smallest twitch.

“If Picani finds out I have a knife because you rat me out, I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands.”

Logan bit his lip, body shaking as he gave a stiff nod. “U-understood.”

“Telling him won’t protect you.” The man continued gruffly. “It will only put me in danger.”

“I won't tell him.” Logan swallowed. “You have my word.”

“Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

A bitter from twitched at the corner of Logan’s lip. “The man dropped you back in here in the middle of the night, while I was weak and defenseless, knowing full well that you'd already made one attempt on my life. I'm not so much of a fool to believe him my ally.”

“Picani was hedging his bets that you'd appeal to my good will.”

Logan let out a huff, dropping his head to his chest. “Well, it appears he made a miscalculation.”

“Perhaps.” Virgil sighed quietly after a moment. “Or perhaps not. You can have this, but I want you to give me back the wrapper, so I can hide it later.”

A small object struck Logan’s chest, causing him to flinch back with a sharp breath. His muscles tensed as his eyes cautiously fluttered open to reveal the ominous sight of the stranger’s eyes glinting at him through the darkness. Slowly, he sat upright, maintaining eye contact as he turned his head down to stare at the protein bar in his lap.

“Don't make a mess.”

Glancing cautiously up at the other man’s stiff form, Logan leaned forward to tear at the wrapper. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t about to waste his first chance for food in three days. His hands shook as he attempted to tear into the difficult piece of plastic, growing desperate as the man above him tensed.

“Hey, be careful!” The man held up a hand, stopping as Logan flinched at his volume. He paused, giving Logan a quick sympathetic look before edging closer. “Listen, hand it over for a second.”

Logan hesitated, gripping the bar tightly as if his life depended on it.

“Listen, dude. It's all yours, I swear.” The man whispered with a wary smile, holding up his friends as he dropped down on the side of the bed. His movements were slow, as if he was suddenly deliberately making an attempt to be non-threatening. “Just let me open it for you so you don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get backlash for helping you out. Okay?”

“Okay.” Logan whispered after a moment of tense silence, keeping his head bowed from the man's gaze as the man took the bar from his hands. “Thank y—”

“Don't thank me.” The man cut him off sternly. He made quick work of tearing the wrapper open before offering it back to Logan. “What's your name?”

“Logan.”

“Okay, Logan. Mine's Virgil.”

The man whisper filled the air as he waited patiently for Logan to take the bar from the wrapper. Logan took a quick bite, watching the man in his periphery as he chewed the small offering of food slowly. His body ached for him to finish faster, but he didn't want to be caught off guard if the man suddenly changed his mind.

“Listen, I'm sorry.” Virgil muttered as Logan took another bite. “I know I must have scared the shit out of you just now.”

Logan blinked up in mild surprise at the man's change in tone, still wary of the man's anger as he swallowed his first bite.

“You were being cautious.”

“That doesn’t suddenly make any of this shit okay,” Virgil muttered as he crumpled the wrapper into his pocket and stared at his lap. “The way I reacted is straight fucked, but you got to know that Picani only keep his most dangerous subjects this deep into the labs. You're not the first piece of fresh meat Picani’s dropped in my bunk—And when I heard the guards talking about you feeding on me, I panicked.”

“I assume the doctor has given you plenty of reason to be wary of newcomers.” Logan whispered, still slightly unnerved by the man's choice of words. “H-how long have you been here?”

“Long enough that I stopped counting the days.”

Virgil absently ran his fingers through his hair as Logan took in the sight of the man for the first time. His white attire seemed dirtier than before, especially next to the stark white color of Logan’s matching attire. Logan’s eyes tipped up to the man's face. Fresh bruises covered his face and arms and large pieces of gauze appeared to have been haphazardly applied to his head and around his elbows in a poor attempt at first aid for whatever injuries he sustained over the last few days.

"W-where did they take y—”

“Don’t ask.” Virgil interrupted abruptly, glancing at the fearful look in Logan’s eyes as he cut him off. He paused, briefly considering the harshness his words before looking up at Logan. “You'll find out soon enough and trust me, you'll wish you never found out.”

“The doctor—He hurts you because of your powers.” Logan observed, curling his knees to his chest as Virgil’s dark gaze turned back to him. “Doesn't he?”

Virgil blinked up at him. "How did you—"

"I saw you starting to turn invisible before the doctor walked in on us." Logan bit his lip, looking shyly at his lap. "Just after I blew you back into the wall."

"Huh, well, its not invisibility." Virgil huffed, dropping his shoulders as he pointed up at the red lights. "I can manipulate light. It's the reason for all of those."

"What?" Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at the strange lights.

"I can't shift red light as easily as the rest of the spectrum." Virgil muttered bitterly. "They put these in here to make sure that Picani always knows where I'm at."

"And he hurts you because of these abilities?"

"He runs tests." Virgil blinked, looking up a the fear Logan was barely concealing behind his eyes. “Picani’s a bastard and this—” Virgil muttered, looking disgusted as he stared at his bandages before glancing over at Logan. “—is nothing. He's done much worse to me when he gets worked up. He says its about figuring out how I do it, but if you ask me, he just gets off on hearing me scream.”

Logan's skin tingled with fear and he could feel tears growing in his eyes as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I felt like that might be the case.”

“He owns us. We’re not even people to him.” Virgil’s words fel from his lips absently as he rambled. “And when Picani gets a new subject, he's miserable. He a whole new level of sadism and miser—Shit.”

Virgil paused as Logan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking from the overwhelming series of events from the last few nights.

“Hey, don't panic.” Virgil jolted upright, turning to rest his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “Wait—No, no, just breathe with me. Don't panic.”

Logan sucked in a ragged breath as Virgil rested a hand on his chest, applying a gentle pressure to help ground him. His throat ached as he tried to suppress another sob and Virgil curled an arm around his shoulder.

“You are going to get through this, Logan.” Virgil hushed him urgently. “God. I'll help you but you need to stop. You can't lose it now.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Logan felt himself tugging on his hair as he whispered between ragged breaths. " I'm s-s-sorr—"

“It's okay.” Virgil whispered insistently, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders. “You're going to be okay. Just get your breathing under control.”

Logan nodded, body aching as he suppressed the overwhelming panic seizing his muscles. Slowly, through Virgil’s gentle touches and kind words his breathing returned to normal and his muscles started to relax.

“There you go.” Virgil let out a sigh, leaning back. "You did okay."

“I'm sorry.” Logan whispered between pained breaths. “I'm being irrational—”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Your reaction is the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken place,” Virgil’s eyes tipped sympathetically towards Logan in the dark, flashing with the knowledge of their grim reality. “but you can’t afford to be emotional here. You'll get hurt if you do this around the wrong people.”

Logan paused, feeling his breathing slow a bit at the kind look in Virgil’s glowing purple eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

“I mean it. You can't react like that with the doctor.” Virgil whispered, roughly wiping away the streaks of tears off his cheeks. “The doctor will exploit every fear you show him. You have to be stronger than him.”

“O-okay.” Logan whispered, still trembling as Virgil talked him through his panic.

“Find a place in your head that you can disappear to when you’re in his hands.” Virgil stated with a pitiful smile as he stared at Logan’s distant stare. “Whatever you do, don’t show him what you’re feeling.”

“I will—um, thank you for the advice.”

“It's nothing.” Virgil muttered quietly. “Consider it an apology for waking you up with a shiv to you throat. Alright?”

Logan sucked on his lip, curling his knees to his chest. “It's fine. I realize now why you acted in such a manner.”

"It's not fine, but whatever." Virgil shrugged as his lip twitched with guilt. “but either way, you look like shit and I think you should get some rest.”

“I'm not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at this point.”

“You need to try. You need whatever energy you can get to get through tomorrow.”

Logan blinked up at the serious tone in Virgil’s voice as he slid up on the bed and faced the door.

“I'll keep an eye out and wake you before Picani and his goons show up. Okay?”

“S-sure.” Logan whispered, chilled by the seriousness in Virgil’s voice.

“You can trust me on this, Logan.” Virgil paused raising an eyebrow at Logan. “There’s not much I can do to protect you, but at the very least, I won’t let Picani catch you by surprise.”

Logan let out a breath as Virgil patted the bed next to him. Stiffly, Logan slid over to him and slipped underneath the thin blanket. Uneasily, he rested down on the pillow next to where the Virgil perched, staring at the door. “Thank you, Virgl. I—I know you don't have to help me.”

“I want to.” Virgil muttered under his breath almost to himself. His voice was so quiet Logan nearly didn’t catch the end of his statement. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

Logan blinked, considering Virgil’s words as a deep exhaustion crept over him. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring up at the distant look in Virgil’s eyes as he stared at the closed door of their cell. He sighed. Falling asleep next to the stranger who'd had a knife to his throat only minutes seemed like an impossible feat but only a few short minutes had passed before the exhaustion began to outweigh his anxiety. He could feel his eyelids dropping even as his heart fluttered with fear of the man next to him. This had to be a mistake and Logan was well aware of that fact. Yet, as his mind drifted off to sleep, he found himself easing to sleep with the madman with the knife next to him anyway.

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Author’s Note: That’s it for now, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer before we get to here more about these poor boys. Thanks for reading, and again, if you want to be on the taglist, all you have to do is let me know!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #logan sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #tw weapon #tw abuse #tw food #L'Appel Du Vide #villain writes

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