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erinxneil · 4 years

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3. Please hold my hand.

I didn’t forget about prompt #2! I just had an idea for #3 and I’m doing these prompts in whichever order I feel like. If you have any requests for the next prompt, as you want to see it sooner than later, simply message me! The prompt list is here and I am more than willing to write it! :)

this is going to be a long one, so I hope you enjoy, I spent a long time on it <3

masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

TW: Graphic depictions of crime

Summary: Spencer gives up hope for himself way too easily.

>>>These will all probably be Spencer Reid X Reader unless someone requests something different :) Also, this one I will leave up for interpretation- if you want to view it as romantic, it can be, or if you want to view this as platonic, it can be!

“So, we know that our unsub tends to kill quickly. He uses a long dagger, and slits the victims throats from just below the jaw and drags it all around. The victims die almost instantly.” Hotch spoke.

“Well, then I guess we can rule out sexual sadist. There’s no sexual component to the crimes, and the kill is quick.” I replied, examining the photos on the board in front of us.

“Yes, but also the autopsy report from the past three victims shows that they were missing for eight hours before they were killed, so we don’t know what he’s doing to them during that time.” Spencer rebuked my claim. Of course, the genius has something to say.

“While that may be true, there are no obvious wounds on the victim other than the slit throat. While one of the three victims also had a stab wound in her side, this was likely just to slow down the victim, as there was skin beneath her fingernails. She probably tried to escape. But none of the other victims have any other wounds, so while he held them for 8 hours, he didn’t touch them.”

Spencer chuckled. “Yes, Y/N, but I think we can both agree you don’t need to physically touch someone in order to torture them.” I nodded. That’s very true.

Morgan coughed. “Well, now that we’ve discussed the possibility that our suspect is a sexual sadist and have been unable to agree on a concise point..” He trailed off. “What’s next? Why does he target females in their forties?”

Emily glanced up. “He probably had some sort of rejection from a female in his life, who fit the description that his victims have in common. Tall, white, brunette. Maybe a girl he liked, or his girlfriend, or even his mother. Either way, some sort of traumatic life event caused him to strike out like this.”

Hotch intervened. “We can discuss this more on the jet. Grab your go-bags, wheels up in 30. We’ve been asked to come to California, where these crimes are occurring.” He left the room without another word.

“Well, this should be an interesting case.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

I took my usual seat on the jet between Prentiss and Reid. Morgan sat across from me with Hotch and Rossi on either side of him, and JJ generally sat to the side alone, since she liked to catch up on her sleep the moment we were able to.

After debriefing for a while, the team had come to the conclusion that the killer was likely a male between the ages 20 to 30 who had felt rejected by his mother at a young age. She likely kicked him out of the house, where he found solace in some hobby that would hopefully be identifiable at the scene. Due to the precision of the cuts, the unsub likely has knowledge in the medical field, and may even work in a hospital. This would be the first place we would check when we landed.

“Good work, team. Try to get some rest in before we land.” Hotch stood and moved to the front of the jet, where he probably wouldn’t take his own advice.

I squirmed in my seat, trying to get into a comfortable position. Everyone around me had already fallen asleep. Or so I thought.

“Having trouble, Y/L/N?” I sheepishly glanced up at the voice, coming from none other than Spencer Reid.

I sighed. “I can’t get comfortable. I’m exhausted and got no sleep last night, yet I can’t seem to fall asleep.” Spencer offered me a small smile and patted on his shoulder, nodding down at it.

I blinked. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a both-” “I really don’t mind, Y/N.” I smiled in thanks and rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Reid.” I murmured, already sleepy. He was so warm.. and smelled like strong cologne.

I fell asleep quicker than I’d like to admit.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“This is gold.”

I woke to the sound of giggling and photo shutters. Still dreary, I groaned quietly and attempted to burrow myself deeper into my pillow.

However the pillow felt a lot more solid than usual.

I slowly opened one eye to see Emily, JJ, and Morgan peering over me. Morgan held his phone, taking countless photos, while Emily chuckled quietly and JJ rolled her eyes in amusement.

“What’s going on? Did we land?” I rubbed my eyes tiredly before looking beside me and realizing I was practically straddling Reid. I jumped in surprise, scrambling off of him, which caused him to wake and the others to laugh.

“Morning sleepyhead, sleep well?” Morgan teased.

“Actually, I did. Did we land?” His groggy voice took me by surprise. I felt my cheeks tinge, knowing the rest of the team had caught me basically cuddling into him as we slept. Screw Reid’s chest for being so comfortable! I usually sleep with a body-sized pillow, and in my sleep, I must have mistaken Spencer for it.

“Yes, lovebirds, we landed.” Emily laughed at us, walking off the jet, JJ following shortly behind.

Reid shot me a look of confusion. “Lovebirds?” He looked to the side, trying to recall his memory, before his eyebrows likely shot up in realization. “Right, uh, well... I’m just going to go meet the others.”

Spencer walked away, scratching behind his neck in embarrassment. Morgan sent me an amused look. “Got anything you wanna admit, Y/N?” He shoved his phone in my face, showing me the photo of me sprawled across Spencer. I had one leg stretched across him, my head on his shoulder, and a hand on his chest. Meanwhile, Reid was resting his own head on mine, while his free hand was wrapped around my waist. If I had seen this photo of anyone else, I would have immediately assumed that they were a couple. Even looking at the photo, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t adorable. But this was Spencer and I. That would never happen.

I rolled my eyes. “So childish. There’s nothing going on between us.” I shoved him playfully before joining the rest of the team outside the plane.

Hotch stared down Morgan and I as we left the jet. “Alright, is everyone all set? No more groping before we leave?” His face was deadpan however there was a hint of humor to his eyes. My jaw dropped, trying to hide a smile. JJ, Emily, and Morgan burst out laughing, while Reid covered his face with his hands to cover his red face. We walked toward the car that was waiting for us, Morgan highfiving Hotch as he passed him.

“Not cool, Hotch..” Reid grumbled.

-*-*-*-*-*-

When we arrived at the crime scene, all traces of humor were lost. The jokes had been forgotten, as we strode up to the police tape and began analyzing the scene.

Hotch turned toward us. “Alright. Y/N, Emily, Reid, and I will analyze the scene, while Morgan, Rossi, and JJ will go to speak with hospitals around the area. Anything you can find will help.” We all nodded and set off to begin our tasks.

Emily looked at the photos as she examined the scene, to ensure that nothing had been moved. Emily, Reid, and I headed toward the bedroom, where the crime had been committed. I fell behind slightly, pulling Spencer back with me to talk as we walked.

“Hey, about earlier, I’m sorry. I guess I get kinda handsy when I sleep.” I chuckled. Spencer grinned. “It’s fine, Y/N, in case you hadn’t noticed, you weren’t exactly alone.” We laughed and nodded. There were no hard feelings, and we both were content. It was time to focus entirely on the case.

“Hey, I found something!”

Reid and I quickly moved into the room. Emily was on the floor, below the victim’s desk.

“...Um, Em? What are you doing?” I stepped closer to her, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Emily took a photo with her phone, before crawling out and showing us the picture. Beneath the desk, there were strips of paper, seemingly cut out of a book, glued to the underside. We read the quotes, trying to decipher them.

The first quote read. “Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to feed us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.“ “This is from Hamlet.” Emily and I gazed at Reid expectantly. “This quote is known to reference the morbid obsession with death that Hamlet holds. These quotes weren’t chosen randomly. I’d assume that not only has our unsub read Hamlet several times, he’s also analyzed every line in order to fully comprehend what each segment means. He’s basically saying that death is inevitable, as we all will succumb to it eventually. Our unsub is confident, and is flaunting the control he has in causing the deaths of his victims.”

“That explains the single slice to kill them.” Emily comments. I nodded. “True. The unsub seems to have some sort of obsession with control, as if he prides himself in it.”

We moved on to the next quote, that read, “You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.” Emily and I looked over at Spencer. He paused for a moment before nodding. “When Breath Becomes Air. Dr. Paul Kalanithi wrote this. It’s the autobiography of a neurosurgeon.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “He reads books related to medicine, as well? He must be very dedicated to his job.” Spencer skimmed through the rest of the quotes. “Or self-taught...” He trailed off. “The rest of these quotes are also from medical books. Either we were scarily on point with out assumption of his job, due to how much he studies them in his spare time.. or the profile is wrong. He may not even be a doctor at all.”

We all looked at each other.

“The only other quote that doesn’t belong to some sort of book about medicine is the quote “It was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind became all of a sudden.” Lamb to the Slaughter. “All of these quotes are somehow related to him and to murder. He wanted us to find these.” Spencer announced.

Emily sighed. “Isn’t this a bit too much effort for a serial killer focused on revenge?” “Not if he was psychotic already. Perhaps that’s the reasoning behind his mother kicking him out when he was younger? He might have shown some sort of signs of psychopathy and due to the differing times, there was more of a stigma around mental issues. She likely made him feel as if he was alone.”

I paused, looking at Emily’s phone when something caught my eye. They both glanced at me. “Y/N?”

Grabbing a tissue, I crawled on the ground and looked around, spotting what I had seen in the photo. I picked it up with the tissue, and showing it to Reid and Prentiss. Peeking slightly from beneath the desk, as if it had slipped from the unsubs grasp, was a small slip of paper, tallied with 18 marks. The pen color changed throughout the paper.

They furrowed their brows and looked up at me. I sighed.

“There’s more victims than we are aware of.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

After informing Hotch what information we gathered from the victims bedroom, he called JJ, expecting that they wouldn’t have found anymore information.

However, surprisingly, they had.

Within the past 8 months, there had been atleast ten victims who came in with similar wounds as our victims, however the cuts weren’t as clean. There were mistakes, such as jagged marks, or the slice wasn’t deep enough, or there were several slices around the body rather than one slit in the throat. They had never tied the murders to our current investigation because of the differences in attacks.

“He was practicing...” Reid realized. “Y/N was right. There’s more victims than we initially realized.”

Hotch dialed Garcia.

“Your brilliant and beautiful is speaking, how may I be of assistance?” “Garcia, I need you to look for any cases of stabbings in the past 12 months in our area, primarily attacks that are focused near the throat.”

“Your wish is my command, my gorgeous friend.” The sound of typing ensued. “Alright, in the past 12 months, the furthest attack was 9 months ago, and there are 26 documented attacks, 22 of which are focused around the neck.” Hotch spoke, “Alright, now can you narrow that list down to brunette females between the ages of 35 and 45, above the height of 5′6″.” “13 results.” The team shared a look and nodded.

“That sounds about right, as we can’t assume that all of his attacks went reported. Before he became serial, he probably began covering his tracks.”

I thought for a moment. “If our unsub is attacking victims that resemble his mother, wouldn’t it be likely if his mother was one of his victims?”

Reid glanced at me and nodded in agreement. “It’s common that serial killers who kill for revenge often kill people who resemble their actual target, however over time the high dies down as they know they aren’t killing who they actually wanted to kill. Our killer probably killed a few victims before killing his mother herself. After killing so many people, he’d gotten a taste for it and became unable to stop.”

Hotch spoke again to Garcia. “Garcia, can you look for how many of those victims have children in their 20s or 30s?” “Of course I can... There are 4.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

Hotch gathered the information from Garcia regarding where their families lived, and we decided that we would split up and speak with them in the morning. In the meantime, we would spend the night in a hotel. We all got separate rooms, and we were told to rest well, as tommorow would take a lot of strength.

I got to my room and took a shower, taking my time and enjoying the feeling of the burning water on my back. Today had been a long day, but the trip over was the best I slept in ages, so I couldn’t really complain.

After showering and getting into pajamas, I slid under my covers, although unsurprisingly, I was unable to sleep. I settled for scrolling on my phone in bed, hoping that sleep would eventually take over me. While looking at Rossi’s Instagram photos from a party he went to last weekend, I heard faint shouting from down the hall. I checked the time to see it was nearly 1 in the morning.

Confused and worried, I grabbed my robe, and my gun, and walked over to the door. I opened it, to find none other than Spencer Reid, fist hovering over the door as if about to knock.

He jumped back in surprise at my appearance at the door. “Uh!- Y/N! You’re awake!” I raised an eyebrow at him and took in his appearance. He wore a friendly smile, however the creases in his brow and the bags under his eyes were impossible to not notice.

“Spencer? What are you doing here?” He looked down at the ground. “I uh.. I couldn’t sleep.” I tilted my head to the side in confusion and he continued. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come over, it’s just that I know you’re always up late and you have trouble sleeping yourself sometimes and I-” I cut him off. “Spencer, did you want to come in?” He smiled softly and walked in as I stepped aside.

“Thanks. Sorry again.” “There’s no need to apologize, Spencer. Are you okay?” He grinned tightly. “Of course. I’m just exhausted, yet can’t sleep and I didn’t really want to be alone. I can just crash on the couch.”

I scoffed. “Spencer, don’t be ridiculous. You can take the bed.” He shook his head. “No, Y/N, it’s yours, I can’t ask you to sleep on the couch in your own room.” I thought for a moment. “Would you be okay if we slept in the bed together? Obviously nothing would happen, but we both can’t sleep and I think we’ve realized that we sleep better near eachother.”

Spencer’s cheeks tinged at the mention of this morning. “Y-Yeah, that’s okay with me.” I smiled and sat beside him in the bed.

He looked over at me, tilting his head in surprise. “Y/N, do you sleep with your makeup on?”

I laughed softly. “What are you talking about, Reid?” He ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to proceed. A smile spread across my face as I realized what he was implying. “Spencer, I’m not wearing makeup.”

Reid’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh!- Uh, sorry then. I just... thought you were.” I grinned before sliding down, staring at the ceiling above us.

“Spencer, how long have you had night terrors?”

He froze for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. “What happened to not profiling our coworkers?” I turned to face him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. I’m just worried about you.” He sighed before turning to face me as well.

“I’ve always had them, they just got a lot worse once joining the BAU. And it seems like the more cases we do, the worse they get.” I nodded. “Have you ever seen someone about it?” “Once, but I had to stop because I criticized their techniques since I knew more about what they were doing than they did.”

Laughter bubbled in my throat. “Only you, Spence.” We laughed together for a bit before a comfortable silence settled between us.

“Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Thank you.”

I smiled. “Of course, Spencer.” He hugged me, and we remained in the position, and I fell asleep to the scent of pine and cinnamon.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“Alright, the groups will be as follows- Emily and Y/N, Morgan and Reid, JJ and Rossi, and I will go alone. We will split up to interview these families. Keep in mind that they’ve just lost a loved one. If anyone happens to find anything, inform us and we will meet up. Do not engage with the unsub if you happen to find any information. Your reasoning will fall upon deaf ears. Understood?”

We nodded, and set off. I sipped my coffee, reminding me of the events of this morning. When I woke up, Spencer was gone. I assumed that he left so that things weren’t awkward again in the morning, until he returned. He had brought all of us coffee, and thanked me again for last night. I grinned at the coffee he gave me, as he remembered that I take it black. Beside the fact that he has an eidetic memory which helps him remember these things, it was still a sweet gesture.

After about an hour or so of speaking with the family, we realized there was no way that this was our unsub’s family. Their dynamic was too loving and there was no resentment that could be seen between any of the children. All of the children were also present, and none of them gave any noticeable reaction or indication that they were guilty when we discussed the murders.

As Emily and I headed back to the car, we received a call from Morgan. “Hey, girls. I think we’ve found our guy. The dude had one sibling who explained that his brother always had a tense relationship with his mother. His name is Chase Matthews. Garcia’s currently trying to locate him right now. His brother said he would be at work at this time, but he isn’t sure where he works because he isn’t necessarily involved in his life. Chase was also kicked out of their house when he was younger because his anger tended to scare their mother. If we can find where he works, then we can find him. “

I thought for a moment before a realization crossed my mind. “A butcher-shop.”

Emily looked at me. “What makes you say that?” “He’s done extensive research on the quickest way to kill someone, and has been using test subjects until he perfected his technique. If he isn’t a doctor himself, a butcher is the perfect job for practicing slaughter. He even tried to tell us with the quote from Lamb to the Slaughter.”

Morgan responded, “Good work, gorgeous. I’ll tell Garcia to look for butcher-shops in the area and I’ll text you and the others the address.”

When he hung up, I received a text moments later.

Only butcher shop in the town. Gotta be here.

We left to the address and arrived only moments after Reid and Morgan, as we were closest to the location. We met up with them, to see Morgan on the phone.

“Are you serious? Ugh. Thanks Garcia.” He hung up before turning to us. “Garcia says that for this shop, Matthews’ shift ends in five minutes. We can’t risk him coming outside and seeing the cop cars when they arrive along with all of the agents standing outside of the building. We can’t wait for the others. We have to move now or we’ll lose him.”

Spencer interrupted, “But didn’t Hotch say-” “I know what Hotch said. But this is our only shot.”

We nodded before heading inside. Emily showed her badge to the worker at the front. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for a Chase Matthews.”

Immediately, clashing sounded from the back, and a door slammed. We all rushed toward the noise and followed him out the door.

“Chase Matthews!” Morgan screamed. “Stop right there!”

And stop he did. Behind the butcher-shop was a town park. Chase grabbed hold of a woman walking the path and held her against him, butcher-knife against her throat.

“Another step forward and she’s dead.”

We all stopped in our tracks, guns aimed toward him.

“Everyone get out of here!” Emily yelled out to the others in the park. They quickly abided, leaving the park in a panic.

“Don’t come any closer. I can kill her quicker than you can shoot me.” We froze because we knew he was right. He could kill her in just a matter of moments. Regardless, Spencer stepped foward.

“Reid what are you-” “I’ve got this.”

We watched in anticipation, worry across our features.

“Look, Chase, I know how you’re feeling.” The unsub scoffed. “No, I’m being serious. I know how it feels to feel betrayed. I understand how it feels to be rejected. Unwanted.” My heart sunk at his words.

He continued, slowly walking foward.”It doesn’t have to be like this. I know that you felt that killing your mother and anyone who reminded you of her was your only choice. But look at this girl. She looks nothing like your mother. This isn’t neccesary, and you know that. I don’t think that you want to hurt her.” Chase glanced down at the terrified woman and seemed to be considering his words.

“Just let the girl go, and we can talk about this.” Cautiously, the unsub let the girl go. Emily quickly pulled her away from the man and comforted her.

“Thank you. Now please, there’s no need for weapons. Discard your knife.”

Chase glared at Reid. “I’m not an idiot. All of you have guns.”

Spencer paused for a moment before placing his gun on the ground before him, and gesturing for us to do the same.

Morgan scoffed. “Reid, don’t be stupid.”

Spencer glanced at us. “Please. I know what I’m doing.”

“This is a bad idea, Spencer.” I scolded.

“Just trust me.” I frowned and placed my gun on the ground beside me, Emily following suit and Morgan, several glares later, also did.

“Thank you. Now please, give me the knife.

The unsub seemed hesitant but nodded, and held out his hand. Spencer slowly took steps forward. As I watched what was about to happen, the faint hint of a smile on Chase’s face mixed with the knife’s placement on his hand lead me to understand what was about to happen.

“Spencer, wait!-” But it was too late.

We watched in horror as the unsub gripped the knife in his hand before stabbing Reid just below the ribcage. He fell to the ground, blood pooling out from him, as the unsub sprinted in the opposite direction.

“Reid!” I screamed and rushed toward him. Morgan and Emily grabbed their guns and ran to him aswell. “Go, chase after him, I’ll stay with Spencer. What he needs from you right now is to catch him.” Morgan was terrified, but his anger took over and he sprinted after the man faster than I’d ever seen him run before. Emily followed shortly after.

I quickly dialed 911, and then took off my shirt and placed it over his wound, applying pressure in an attempt to stop the blood-flow. “Reid, you’re an idiot, but you’re going to be okay. Hold my hand.” I reached out the hand that wasn’t pressed against his abdomen for him to hold.

He closed his eyes. “Don’t waste your time, Y/L/N. The man knows his anatomy. He’s probably pierced some sort of vital organ. If the bleeding out doesn’t kill me, that will.”

I shook my head, tears glistening in my eyes. “Shut up, Spencer, for once you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re going to be just fine. Just hold my hand.”

When Spencer mentioned that someone can be tortured without anyone physically touching them, this is exactly what that feels like.

Reid coughed. “Lets just face the reality, Y/N. It’s not going to happen.”

I shushed him, voice becoming higher with fear. “Reid, stop talking. Save your energy. You are going to be fine. Just, please, for the love of god, please hold my hand.”

Whether it be out of his own fear or pity for me, knowing it would make me feel better, Spencer finally let his hand fall in mine. I kept strong pressure, tears falling down my cheeks, until the paramedics arrived.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“You’re an idiot. If you weren’t in a hospital bed I’d be slapping you right now.”

Reid laughed weakly. “Jeez, it’s great to see you too, Y/N.”

Morgan rushed into the room at the sound of Spencer’s voice. “I can’t believe you! Do you understand how worried you made me? I didn’t think you were going to wake up!” The anger in Derek’s words were clear and Spencer cringed, knowing he had messed up. His expression softened. Morgan sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay, kid. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The team all rushed in and comforted Reid until the doctors came in and told us we all needed to clear out the room. Spencer played dead for a moment, which the doctor found humorous and allowed for one visitor in the room. After much deliberation, I was allowed to stay.

The team left and I was alone with Spencer and the doctors. I grabbed his hand and squeezed softly.

Reid chuckled, recalling the moments after he was stabbed. “You really just wanna hold my hand, huh, Y/L/N?”

I gasped and feigned offense, laughing with him. “I mean, come on, was it really that hard to just hold my frickin’ hand?”

The laughter died down and I sighed, taking in his appearance. “I feel like this is my fault.”

“Y/N, please. It’s nobody’s fault but myself. I’m the one who made you guys drop your weapons. I didn’t listen to Hotch saying we wouldn’t be able to reason with the unsub, and I paid for it.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid.”

Spencer turned his head to face me. “The doctors tell me you saved my life. The knife had just missed a vital organ, so I was wrong again, it really would have been the blood loss that killed me.”

“Wow, it must be my lucky day, proving Dr. Spencer Reid wrong twice in one day.” I laughed to which he smiled softly. “I’m serious, Y/N. Thank you.”

I smiled back at him. “Anything for you, Spence.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

God this took me so long to write. I hope you all enjoyed and as always if there’s a prompt you’d like me to do next let me know!

P.S. Out of curiosity I put this into a machine to count the words and there’s almost 5000 words in this. Just putting that out there ;p

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litwitlady · 4 years

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Love Out Loud

Okay, so I was trying to write the S3 wish fic, but got really frustrated and deleted 1000 words. I wrote this instead. Inspired by Tyler’s scruffy little selfie yesterday and my ferocious need for Michael to be overwhelmed by his desire for the beauty that is Alex Manes. Very slight sexual situations ahead. Set in the near S3 future.

Michael Guerin is distracted. He’s supposed to be working on a new piece of alien tech to keep Mr. Jones restrained outside of the turquoise mines. But Alex is sitting no less than a foot to his left and it’s all Michael can do not to make those twelve inches disappear.

Alex is on vacation. A leave of absence after his father’s death. Bereavement. He hasn’t taken a single day off since joining the Air Force unless you count the time his leg got blown off or that other time his father and his brother abducted him.

Holiday Alex is a wonder to behold. He’s gone several days without shaving. Michael wonders what the overgrown scuff would feel like against his skin. The thought is overwhelming and makes him squirm in his seat. Alex is completely fucking oblivious.

The Project Shepard base had been permanently shut down after Jesse died. So, Alex has moved everything into Michael’s bunker. Which had seemed like the obvious solution at the time, but now Michael realizes new and unexpected problems have arisen. Like the way Alex smells.

Also, his hands. They are beautiful. Even just flicking back and forth through the Caulfield documents and old newspapers trying to find mention of a Mr. Jones. Sometimes, Alex reaches out and touches Michael’s arm, wanting him to read something he’s found. Michael stops breathing every time.

Currently, things are in crisis. Alex is leaning forward on his stool and his t-shirt has ridden up in the back. The merest slice of olive skin is on full display and Michael’s heart is racing. He worries he might actually start drooling. Drawing his eyes away, he pinches the tender skin on the underside of his forearm and tries to refocus on his work.

Because the thing is, Alex is seeing Forrest. Casually – that’s the word Alex had used and the word Michael recites daily like a prayer. Casually means not serious. Casually means off and on. Casually means not forever. It implies a lack of feeling, a lack of investment. But it also implies sex. Sex with someone who is not him. The thought haunts Michael.

Don’t worry; he knows he’s a hypocrite.

For a time, he manages to focus pretty well. There’s a brief moment of panic when Alex has to bend over and retrieve his pencil. Michael recovers quickly. Until the unthinkable happens and Alex slides his stool as close to Michael as possible. ‘Hey, take a look at this. I think Mr. Jones might have gotten captured for a time.’

Michael hears Alex’s voice distantly in some far-off land, but the blood rushing through his body is entirely preoccupied with how Alex’s entire jean-clad thigh is pressed against his own. He swallows and stares at where their bodies meet, burning from hip to knee. He cannot for the life of him recall what Alex asked only two seconds ago. Lord help him.

Something must be wrong with him. He’s spent the past year barely thinking about Alex. Sure, there’s been the occasional dream. And there’s been a few times he’s picked up the phone to call him. Once he drove to his house and even knocked on the door. A time or two he’s jerked off to the thought of Alex’s mouth wrapped around his cock, but that’s perfectly normal. Right?

Wrong.

Everything he’s told himself concerning Alex for the past year is just so many lies. Alex is always the most attractive person Michael’s ever met and sex is always on the table even when it’s not. Maybe even especially when it’s not. Like right now with his criminal fucking thigh.

A memory surfaces. Of Alex home from leave after his second tour. Michael swears he won’t go to him. Will sit in the airstream all by himself no matter how long it takes for Alex to be gone again. But then. A knock at the door. Those sparkling hazel eyes. The freckles scattered across his cheeks. That sweet fucking mouth. Clothes thrown everywhere. Alex spreading Michael’s legs with that same villainous thigh.

Jesus fuck. Michael is in trouble.

Alex is calling his name, shaking his shoulder, concern evident in his voice. Michael tears his eyes away from where their thighs touch and looks up at him. He knows he must look slightly unhinged – eyes heavy-lidded, chest heaving, mouth parted wantonly. But Alex doesn’t seem to notice the sex of it all. ‘What’s wrong?’

Michael swallows several times and clears his throat. ‘Um, nothing. What’s up?’

It’s the best his brain can manage.

Alex is not buying what he’s selling. And before he can stop him, Alex’s hand is on Michael’s thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth in soothing circles doing the absolute most but not soothing a goddamn thing. ‘You’re sweating. What’s wrong? Should I call Kyle?’

Michael is on the verge of doing something ruinous. He is teetering on the very dangerous ledge of want, need, desire. And love. In utter desperation, he stumbles backwards off his stool and ends up on his ass. When Alex kneels beside him in a panic, Michael scoots as far away from him as possible. ‘Stop, Alex. Please.’

They sit there for several long moments. Alex in total confusion. Michael willing his cock to go back to sleep. This cannot go on. Eventually, Michael stands up and moves his stool to another table. Alex watches as he gathers all his various tools and moves them to the other table. He plops back down on his seat, his back turned to Alex’s innocently filthy presence, and resumes his work like nothing happened.

He hears Alex shuffle around. Hears him head to the ladder. ‘I’ll work at home. Didn’t know I was bothering you.’ His voice filled with hurt.

Michael sighs and turns to him. ‘No, Alex, please don’t go.’ Alex pauses but doesn’t turn around, hand still clasping the ladder. ‘You aren’t bothering me. I swear.’ This time Alex does turn back to him. Michael hates the way his eyebrows furrow at him accusingly. When was the last time he’d made Alex smile? He can’t remember. It’s a damning realization.

Taking a deep breath, he gets up and approaches Alex slowly. He wants to buy some time – work out what to say in his brain. Unfortunately, the bunker is not that big and not 30 seconds go by before he’s as close to Alex as he dares. Michael wants to open his mouth and say ‘I love you’. He wants to say ‘stay with me, forever’. But what he does say is ‘I’m sorry’. It’s barely a whisper.

‘Sorry?’

‘Yeah. Sorry that you believe you could ever bother me. That I’ve somehow made you believe that.’ Michael grabs the strap of Alex’s cross-body bag and pulls it back over his head. ‘Stay. I’ll go grab us some lunch. We can talk. I want to talk.’ A distant memory echoes between them. He steps back, clutching Alex’s bag to his chest, and waits for his answer.

‘I’d like that.’ Alex returns to his seat and Michael releases his breath. He smiles to himself and thinks about what a relief it will be to finally love Alex out loud.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #where is all this michael pov stuff coming from?

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kimtanathegeek · 4 years

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Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 7

This is definitely my favorite chapter! :D

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.

First

Wayward snowflakes made their way inside the rocky tunnel. A thin blanket of snow carpeted the edge, crunching as Sans crept towards the opening. Gripping the wall of the tunnel, he looked out.

Towards his left, the rocky exterior of the giant cavern sloped down like a small mountain of its own. The rest of the outside, as far as he could see, was a vast, snow-filled valley. Void of any trees, the landscape was flat with smatterings of large boulders and stone formations covered in snow like frosted cakes. In the distance he could see a thin strip of dark grey, slicing through the valley from beyond, snaking its way out of sight past the cavern. For a moment, Sans had thought they were outside Mt. Ebott, but as he looked up, he saw the stony, stalactite filled ceiling of the mountain high above them.

It was peacefully quiet with only the sounds of low, whooshing gusts and the pattering of snowflakes against the stony walls. The darkness of the inner-mountain valley was brightened by the miles of white snow, giving the appearance of a moonlit night. Sans breathed in deeply, the fresh, frozen air cleansing his lungs, then breathed out, watching the wisps escape his mouth like soft, white smoke. Snowflakes landed on his and Papyrus’ skulls, melting into nothingness on impact.

“It’s like winter, Pap,” Sans breathed in awe, making the blue bone in his hand disappear.

Papyrus wriggled for joy in the haversack. “Nyeh!”

Sans crept down the side of the cavern exterior, creating white bones here and there to aid him down the snowy slope. When he reached the ground, he stepped into deep snow. The squeaking crunch of snow under his foot made him grin wide. He stood there a moment, surveying the area. Deeming it safe enough, he unshouldered the haversack, undid the straps, and helped Papyrus climb out.

The little skeleton jumped up and down happily in the deep snow, then fell back onto the ground and started making a snow angel.

Sans had untied his jacket bundle from the underside of the haversack and brushed the snow off it. He untied it and emptied the food and tiny bones into the main pocket, then put the vines in the side pocket with the others. He shook his jacket out and put it on, zippering it up, as he watched his little brother playing. Then he joined him, falling onto his back next to him, creating a slightly larger snow angel. The two brothers laughed in the snow, the wintery weather healing their souls in a way food and sleep could not.

Sans was the first to get up, realizing that they had best keep going. The cavern entrance would be around the corner from them, and he didn’t want to chance any monsters working on the outside of the wall they were constructing to see them. He raised his left hand and made the white bones he had used to descend the cavern exterior disappear. He looked down at his little brother, who was just laying in the snow happily.

“Ready to explore this place?” Sans said, wiping snow from his jacket.

Papyrus jumped up, covered in snow. He wiggled most of it off, but snow that had gathered on his neck and shoulders fell down into his shirt through the collar. He shuddered, then opened the bottom of his shirt to release the trapped snow. He looked up at his older brother, his teeth chattering as he shivered.

Sans felt bad that they hadn’t grabbed his coat back at the house in the urgency to evacuate. All his brother had on him was his long-sleeved shirt, his pants, and his tiny shoes. Skeletons were able to withstand the cold much better than most monsters, but they weren’t impervious to getting chilled to the bone. Sans unzipped his jacket and put it on Papyrus. It was far too big for the little skeleton. He stood there, furrowing his brow at the bagginess, then shrugged it off onto the ground.

“Well that’s not going to work,” Sans said, retrieving his jacket.

As he shook it out and put it back on, he glanced over at the haversack. An idea dawned on him.

Papyrus stood there, shivering and shaking the snow off the inside of his shirt. Sans came up to him with the strip of red cloth that had come from their mother’s cape. Sans held out it at length, folded it in half, end to end, then wrapped it around Papyrus’ neck.

“There,” Sans said, stepping back to look at his little brother. “That should help.”

Papyrus reached up and felt the thick fabric where it had wrapped around his neck, nuzzling his chin against the folds, and watched how the ends hanging behind him danced upwards in the wind. The makeshift scarf warmed the chill away and made the little skeleton feel comfortably snug.

“What do you think?” Sans asked him.

Papyrus jumped up and down happily, waving his arms in the air high above his head. “Nyeh!”

The two skeletons walked through the snow, getting as far away from the cavern as possible. Sans constantly looked around to make sure neither monster nor human was in sight. Papyrus was having the time of his life, kicking up the snow into little clouds of powder and occasionally picking up handfuls of packed snow to munch on.

Sans was leading them towards a grouping of snow-covered boulders. He didn’t like being out in the open as they crossed the snowy floor of the massive cavern “valley.” They were walking a diagonal path away from the cavern, but without trees and not enough to hide them, Sans knew that if anyone was looking from the stone wall construction, they would spot them.

They soon reached the boulders. Sans led Papyrus around so that the boulders hid them from the cavern’s view. He walked up to the largest of the boulders and figured it would be a good place to rest. He unshouldered the haversack and propped it up against the boulder. He sat wearily, leaning back on the boulder, and watched his brother playing in the snow.

Without sun or moon, it was impossible to tell if it were day or night. It appeared this valley would always be in a constant state of “nighttime,” and Sans was grateful that the snow reflected enough light to keep them out of total darkness.

He tilted his head upward at the cavern ceiling miles and miles above his head and sighed sadly. He missed the stars. His mind drifted to the nights he would spend with his parents and little brother out on a hilltop near their home, stargazing for hours. His father had taught them constellations and always knew which nights the meteor showers would come. Sans gripped the snow next to him in sorrow as he stared at the dark, starless ceiling, tears silently falling down his face.

Sans shook his head, bringing himself back to the present, and wiped his eyes. He pulled over to the haversack and rummaged for some food.

“Hey, Pap,” he called over as he prepared the meal. “Want some dinner?”

Papyrus jumped up and ran over to him, always eager for food.

“Sorry it’s more cheese and mushroom sandwiches,” he apologized, handing one to his brother. “We just have to use them up before they go bad.”

Papyrus didn’t seem to be bothered with the meal repetition as he plunked himself down on the snow and hungrily munched on his sandwich.

As he ate, Sans thought about their next steps. Where would they spend the night? They couldn’t sleep out here in the open with the cold and chance of being spotted. They could keep going further, but if their father was with the others back in the cavern, Sans didn’t want to move on too far away. How would they find him? How were they going to survive on their own with dwindling food supplies that were meant to last just a few days?

Sans had been thinking so long that he noticed Papyrus standing up, wiping crumbs and snow from his clothes, and returning to the pile of snow he had been playing with. Sans looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand and sighed. Knowing that worrying would solve nothing, he finished his sandwich and tried to focus on the more urgent problem—where they were going to sleep.

He popped the last morsel into his mouth and picked himself up off the ground, wiping snow from the back of his pants. He picked up the haversack and shouldered it, reluctantly preparing to move on. He trudged over to his brother.

Papyrus had been busy making a little wall of snow all around him, and was now working on the mound of snow in the middle.

Sans laughed fondly. “Hey, Pap, that reminds me of the snow forts we used to make back home—”

Sans stopped. A snow fort! We could make a place to sleep with snow!

“Pap, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed to the confused little skeleton.

Sans walked over to where three of the large boulders were gathered in a triangular pattern. There was a small gap between them at the center where they nearly touched, and he considered it as he stared at the boulders, gears turning in his head. He paced back and forth as he planned.

Reaching a design, he raised his left hand and created a wall of white bones, slightly taller than himself, that rose from the ground and formed a half circle, two of the boulders at either end. He had left a small gap in the middle of the half circle that would serve as the “door.” Then he created a long white bone. It fell over once formed since he had created it to be loose, fully formed with an epiphysis on either end. Struggling with its length, he lifted the bone in both hands high above his head and walked through the gap in the wall. He placed the bone on the walls so that it served at the start to the roof.

He created more bones this way, each one decreasing in size, and laid each on the bone wall. Once he had placed the last bone on the roof, he stood back to admire his handiwork.

“Well, that’s the skeleton of the fort,” he grinned to himself.

He went into the structure, heading towards the back. He created a few bones to make a back wall in the gaps on either side of the third boulder, forming a circular room in the back of the shelter, ensuring the whole snow fort was enclosed. Then he made more loose white bones to make a roof for the little room, crisscrossing the bones to cover the triangular gap between the three boulders.

Sans emerged, then started the laborious task of piling and packing snow upon the bones. He started with the walls, then would climb up on the boulders to work on the roof. Papyrus, seeing what his brother was doing with the snow, came over to help. The little one pushed mound after mound of snow towards the snow fort, which Sans was grateful for, and together, the two skeletons created their small shelter. Once they were finished, they stood back and looked at it, both exhausted and catching their breaths.

Sans had smoothed the walls and roof so that they were rounded, looking just like another boulder. The doorway sloped downwards and protruded from the fort so that they had to crawl to enter. Inside, they had packed more snow, ensuring that the shelter had thick walls. They left the portions of the boulders that ran through the shelter exposed, saving themselves the work of making more walls than they needed.

The shelter itself, while it took them ages to create, was rather small, but spacious enough for Sans and Papyrus to be able to walk around and even lay down. They looked down at each other and smiled, happy with the result of their hard work.

“Well,” Sans said. “Now we’ve got a place to sleep.”

“Nyeh!” Papyrus agreed.

Sans put his hands on his hips. “Let’s rest for a bit, Pap. Then I want to explore the area more. See if we can find any food.”

His brother nodded, and they entered the shelter. It was dark inside now that it had been covered in snow, so Sans created a few blue bones and stuck them in the corners of the shelter, their blue-white light illuminating their new space nicely—Sans ran outside and circled the shelter to make sure the light couldn’t be seen through the thick walls. He then lifted his left hand and created a rectangular platform out of tightly clumped bones several inches high to serve as a bed on the right side of the shelter. Papyrus sat on it and watched as Sans emptied the contents of the haversack onto the snowy floor. Then he put the bag on the bed for Papyrus to use as a pillow. The little skeleton curled up and sleepily watched his older brother work.

Sans wanted to store the contents of the haversack in the shelter, ensuring that when they went out to forage, there would be as much room in the bag as possible. He went over to the left-side boulder-wall and formed a wide bowl out of the snow right in front of it and put the carrots, apples, and pears in it. He created a small shelf from tiny white bones out of the boulder above the bowl and placed the remaining mushrooms, wedges of cheese, bread loaves, most of the dried fruit, and the cloth pouches of nuts on it so that they didn’t get wet and spoil.

“Now we have a small pantry, Pap,” he said with a small laugh as he turned to his brother. He laughed again as he saw that Papyrus had fallen asleep on the bed, curled up on the haversack.

Sans made another small shelf further over on the boulder wall and put the stones for cracking nuts, the leaves, and dried vines on it. Then he put Papyrus’ tiny white bones in a pile on the left side near the wall.

He looked down at what remained—some dried fruit, the coils of vines, and the sharp stone for cutting. He stuffed the dried fruit in his pants pockets and placed the sharp stone in his jacket pocket. He wanted these items close in case of an emergency. He would put the coil of vines in the haversack in case he needed it for tying anything.

As much as he hated to do so, he nudged his brother awake.

“Hey, Pap,” he whispered. “Nap time’s over. Time for a walk.”

Papyrus sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as his brother took the haversack and placed the vines in the side pocket. He looked sleepily up at Sans, frowning.

“I’m sorry, Pap,” his brother apologized. “I just want to make sure there’s no one out there around us, and I want to see if we can forage anything. Then we’ll head back here and get a full night’s sleep. Ok?”

Papyrus hopped off the bed, nodding with a sleepy grin. “Nyeh.”

Sans shouldered the empty haversack and extended his hand for Papyrus to hold. “Great, let’s go.”

The area was so vast, Sans had a hard time figuring out where to even begin. He settled on a course towards the stone wall construction, giving an extremely wide berth so as not to be seen. He wanted to see if there were indeed monsters working outside of the cavern, or if they were safe from being caught in the wintery valley.

As they continued, he kept a watchful eye on the cavern that sat in the distance to his right. His ears strained to hear any noise apart from that made by him and his brother. As they progressed, Sans caught sight of a trail of dim lights.

He froze, holding Papyrus back, fearing that monsters or humans were approaching. After a few moments he realized that the lights weren’t moving. Still, he approached them cautiously. They appeared to extend from one side of the snowy valley all the way over towards the cavern. They were spaced far apart, but definitely formed a sparse pathway of lights. The closer they got, the more distinct they became, and it was soon apparent that the lights were tall torches stuck in the ground. Sans kept an eye and ear out for anyone who might be using the lights, but the valley was empty. Soon they were at the torches and Sans understood what they were for.

The torches had been placed by a monster, for the fire that burned in them was magic, creating no smoke and burning gently. They lit up the path the monsters had taken that would lead them to the cavern they had sought refuge in. The snow had been packed hard by the thousands of monsters who had trudged through the trail, creating a shallow trench through the valley.

Sans noticed something in the snow and went over to it. It was a small bit of rope, barely longer than Sans’ arm. He reached behind him and put it in the side pocket of the haversack.

He looked at Papyrus. “I wonder what else we can find?”

They walked along the path, finding smatterings of items here and there, dropped by monsters as they made their urgent trek to get away from the humans. Sans collected all of it, not wanting to leave anything behind. As much as he wanted to find his father as soon as possible, he knew he needed to prepare to be out here for much longer than he hoped. Papyrus helped him find items, thinking of it as a fun game. Between them, they found several pieces of rope and twine, broken bits of wood in varying shapes, numerous pieces of torn and whole fabric, several broken arrow and spear tips, countless bits of parchment, and various other lost items. Most importantly, they found a large amount of dropped and discarded food, which Sans was extremely grateful for.

But the prize piece of forage was a small, cushioned mat that was still rolled up. Sans couldn’t believe his eyes as he picked it up out of the snow from the edge of the path. The straps that had held it in place were torn, and the owner probably didn’t even realize it had fallen off their belongings. It would make sleeping on the bed of bones much more bearable. He stowed it gratefully in the haversack.

They continued foraging down the path, the bag becoming quite full, when the stone wall in the cavern came into view. Seeing no sign of monsters, Sans chanced getting in closer to inspect it.

It had been completed, sealing off the cavern opening. The large purple bricks had been fortified with a smooth coating. A large set of purple stone doors had been placed in the center, framed by two violet, fluted columns. Above the door was a decorative arch that bore the same symbol he had seen on his mother’s uniform—a circle with wings flying over three triangles.

Sans had seen enough to feel confident that there wouldn’t be monsters out in the valley. Judging by the tall, undisturbed snowdrift that had blown up against the door, it hadn’t been open since being built.

Sans motioned to Papyrus that they were leaving, and they returned the way they had come. They trotted quickly back down the trodden path until Sans found the single trail of their footprints leaving the path.

Before they headed back to the shelter, Sans looked longingly at the fire in the torch. He knew he was still too young to work with fire, but he needed it to keep him and Papyrus warm through the night. He realized the necessity outweighed the risks, and knew that magic fire made by monsters was much safer than regular fire, so he raised his left hand and two white bones shot up instantly from the ground at an angle, snapping the tall wooden torch into a shorter, more portable torch.

Sans picked it up carefully before it extinguished in the snow, holding it up in front of him. He made the bones disappear, then created a single, loose white bone. He urged Papyrus to head down the trail of their footprints while he followed at the rear, holding the torch in one hand while leveling away their footprints with the bone—knowing that the snowfall would fill in the rest—so they couldn’t be followed.

They arrived back at the shelter, exhausted but accomplished. Sans broke down the snow he had put up to cover the doorway to protect the shelter from intruders, as well as keep the blue-white light inside from showing. They crawled into the shelter, Sans taking extra care keeping the torch from melting the snow as he crawled awkwardly. Papyrus was already sitting on the bed, his eyes fighting to keep open.

Sans unshouldered the haversack and dropped it on the snowy floor. He took the torch into the small room where the three boulders met. He raised his left hand and created a small basin-like structure with tightly clumped bones from the ground in the center of the room. It was rounded on all sides and was raised a few inches off the ground. Then he laid the torch in the middle of the basin. The small magical fire sat there, burning gently without a single wisp of smoke.

Sans looked up at the ceiling, worried about the fire melting the snow, but keeping Papyrus warm through the night was worth the risk. As an extra measure of protection for the flame from melting snow, he created platforms from each boulder. They overlapped each other and were slightly angled a couple feet above the flame. Any water that fell from melting snow would now drop on the platforms instead of the flame and run down the bones towards the boulders. Other than that, all he could do was fix any melting damage in the morning.

He went into the main room and took out the cushioned mat. He unrolled it and laid it on the bone bed, with Papyrus moving for him. It was bigger than the little bed, so it drooped over on all sides. The little skeleton gladly tested it out, squirming comfortably on the soft, thick mat.

Sans went out to the front opening and sealed it with a thick wall of snow in lieu of a proper door. Satisfied that they were shut off from the outside world, he wearily went over and picked up the haversack. He took the sharp and fragile items out of the bag and laid them on the floor for him to deal with in the morning. He took out the larger scraps of fabric, piling them next to the bed, and put the haversack on the head of the bed.

He raised his left hand and created two single bones in the right boulder near the bed. He took off his jacket and hung it on one bone, then helped Papyrus take off his red scarf and hung that on the second bone. He took Papyrus’ shoes off, then his own, setting them next to the bed. Then Papyrus scooted over to the haversack and laid his head on it as Sans got into the bed next to him. He took the fabric scraps from beside the bed and laid them over himself and Papyrus, overlapping each piece, to cover them. Sans raised his left hand and the blue bones around them disappeared, darkening the room.

Sans laid down, his brother snuggling in his arms as he wrapped his arms around Papyrus. Sans nuzzled in to his brother as they drifted off to sleep in the soft light of the magic fire.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #babybones #skelebros

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unorthodork · 8 years

Text

I don’t really like saying anything uber mega personal here, because I’m sorta just here to reblog relative stuff, and maybe write a little? However, I feel I need to get some stuff off my chest. Depression is perhaps the most devastating mental war there is. It is at moderate difficulty to enter such a war zone, although ridiculously easy to remain. You have no choice to vacate and return to your family, only to man the guns and arm yourself to endure this one soldier battle. The rivalry between joy and depression plays tug of war with your mental stability, a lone troop desperate to escape. Joy enrolls and deports you to the battlefield with little to no notice, a lingering presence of an infinite vast No Man’s Land. Tarnished terrain with jagged sharp branches that disperse from ash brown bark makes the land look like a filter. Not a single barricade in place, you trek onward with the assumption this first passage will be simple to cross. A few miles in, unsuspecting of such a disturbance, you fall into a trench. Luckily it isn’t very deep, minor as if it were unfinished. You dig your fingers into the Earth, flinching as you feel a rock attempt to slip beneath your nail. You check your flesh, unscathed as it has always been, many would compliment and envy your complexion and condition. Upon settling both feet onto the terrain, you step on a shard of glass that barely pricks the heel of your sneakers. “I may need a change of footwear more suitable,” you conclude, pulling out a pair of pristine combat boots. Your eyes dart between your current favorite pair of rainbow sneakers, and the midnight black combat boots. Reluctantly, you change pairs and stuff the favored item into your rucksack. Wiggling your toes and looking down, you realize you much preferred the saturated and colorful option over the grim, achromatic resort. The petal falls free from the rose, the first chip off the old block that is your happiness. The glass caught between the soles go unnoticed by your newly recruited self, properly suited for the rubble now. As your mind begins to wander and ramble, distracted you trip over a small sack barricade. A hand swats away dust and pebble nestled into the fabric of ocean blue denim jeans, yet again a favorite article of clothing. A light sigh slips between parted, plush lips as a set of leg pads jerk free from a small compartment. Strapped tight around plump thighs and durable knees, the color is a dim grey that instantly makes you miss the vibrancy of your trousers. Weeks fly by as quickly as the crows overhead, days of the week less monitored than prior. Was it Monday, or Wednesday? Perhaps it was a Friday or Sunday? The silver watch fastened around an overused wrist broke long ago, and so you lost your track of time. Barricades, debris, rivers and trenches have came your way and ultimately resulted in an entire change of your wardrobe. “I won’t be leaving this place with all intact.” Thought to be alone, the pistol within its holster is gripped firmly upon a shadowy figure approaching. “Hey friend, I’ll help you find your way about. It’s awfully lonely here, isn’t it?” spoke a scrawny civilian, decked in gear alike yourself which indicated they may have been a solider rather than common folk. You nod and accept the invitation of their company, friendship is a good thing after all; they appear wholly capable of surviving these harsh conditions, the battle will be easier together. What is it you’re looking for, pal?” “Um, it’s the guy who created all of this..destruction. The bodies,” You gesture your thumb towards one of the many surrounding piles of lifeless corpses, sided by various weapons. Their eyes widened in fear, taking a hasty few steps back before exclaiming in a shaky manner “Oh no, not it.” “You’re seeking it,” “Yes, I am? Who exactly are we talking about here?” They shook their head, retrieving a dull blade beside a body they for some reason took interest in. Aged blood the shade of rust was smeared by saliva coating a slim thumb, much to your surprise. “Not a who, a what. Maybe a who depending on how far gone you are.” You tilt your head in confusion. “It is a gastly demon you see, one I advise to steer clear of.” In a battle stance, you shake your head triumphantly, “I will act accordingly when I see it, then.” The following crackle of vocal cords startle you, this man hasn’t been so loud, every word spoken pillow soft. Anxiety racks your nerves and thought process, heart beat increasing. “You can’t see it, useless kid. Do you lack sense? It’s invisible or otherwise similar to dense smoke, kind too. It has to be to ensure the thoughts can get in, now let’s travel onwards.” You hadn’t thought much of the insult, as it’s been heard so many times you assume it’s likely correct, that you lack sense. Useless was a new one, however speaking up may not be quite beneficial, so you follow his lead now. A sickly crooked smile highlights already wrinkled features, skin crinkled even more so thanks to his expression as you begin to feel inferior in comparison to this solider. He knows more about this creature, after all. Months have sailed along in resemblance to the battleships that once littered the now surrounding body of water. During this journey you were fortunate enough to meet another survivor, and learn more about Sixten, the other occupant of your party. Anorexic and skeletal in result of such, he forcefully kept true to making his body reject all meals. You found this out the one night he’d stripped himself of his sweater and faced the dead trees, the only sound other than the roaring, luminescent fire being gagging and violent hacks. Sixten Davis, Luci Furr, and yourself. You and Luci have grown quite close, a relationship that blossomed gradually although now somewhat sketchy. Being with her, you've learned it's much to blame yourself over the latter; Hearing seemingly endless complaints and witnessing shed tears pool at the underside of her pointed chin. The loyalty established is as well questionable, as many a nights may you find hear her lilted giggling and Sixten's voice mingling in the distance. "We've met the end of land, sea is only ahead," You exclaim with a hint of sadness, the life and essence you once contained now in bottled amounts. "Make yourself useful then, and begin to craft a raft," Luci giggled at the intentional rhyme in his demand. "Perhaps you can help?" You inquire sharply, eyes narrowed and brows knitted together in irritation. Luci was quick to defend Sixten's honor, unlike yourself. "He's on watch for any more demons, don't be rude to him. We don't have to help you, you're luck to have us." Relax, the therapist once said it helps to breathe deeply. "This is why I must insult them, I don't get why they can't just learn." Your eye twitches, ire boiling in the pit of your stomach. Inhale. "It's their fault anyways, dragging us along on this trip," "Ungrateful as always." Exhale. "You both treat me like absolute trash! How is it my fault, when Luci is the one who ate all the rations? When you're the one who screwed the calculations and sent us on a run around in the forest?!" You soon regret this outburst, silence numbing your skin as it tingles and the palms of your hands grow clammy. A year has driven by now, and you've forgotten the type of car you'd once desired, otherwise you would compare the statements. Luci robbed you of your supplies and self esteem, whilst Sixten had vicked you of your prized physical attribute. A once clear complexion was now littered with scars from a sharpened blade, the same dull knife Sixten pocketed and spent time repairing afterwards. To spite you, he'd carved many insults into the flesh of your stomach and chest to remind you of who you are. Tired limbs swam through filthy waters to the next slice of land, fragile bones creaked and moaned like old wood from the constant maneuver of land not one bit level with the rest. Here you stand now, before the ghoul you've long searched for. It depressed you how many trials you'd suffered just to see it was exactly as Sixten described it, smoke. "Hello, it." "Please, call me friend." It's voice echoed and repeated as if someone played multiple audio clips at the same time from different tabs. It's tone was inviting, warmth enveloping you as it approached a single step closer. You shook my head hastily in rejection, fearing now what friendship's purpose was, and what it truly meant. It's hand was firm and constricting on your shoulder however, despite the vain attempt at warding it away. Physical contact has grown void in your life, it's hold served pleasant and home-like. "I cannot hurt you, my dear. Please, invite me in." It's request made little sense, nonetheless you accepted it. Everything sounded fuzzy and unclear with it's grasp growing uncomfortable now, the pain felt relieving though, you make no attempt to pull back. Slowly nodding, it smiles, "Good, very good." You realize it didn't smile, rather you visioned it. Charming little nothings were whispered softly and rotated about in your membrane, and the cold pressure of a pistol to your temple failed to wake you. "You've endured so much pain, why not join me, and lessen the amount of hurt you experience? You don't have to feel it any more." Hot tears streamed down cool blemmished cheeks, calloused fingers pressing tighter into the weapon. "Pull the trigger." For a mere moment you debated tugging it back, before your eyes widened upon seeing yourself stand upright before you. The curve of plush lips complemented untouched skin. A rainbow tie die t-shirt to match your rainbow sneakers, Converse brand just like you liked them. Ocean blue denim jeans. "The sooner you do, the quicker the pain will vanish." Beside that image was the current you, mirrored in horrific fashion. This wasn't the you everyone would recognize and remember, certainly not the one you'd wanted to be. Dusty combat boots that faded away from their once true color of midnight black, split from the now flat soles. Loosely hanging padding on your legs, arms, and chest. Greasy locks strewn about a grimey forehead, dandruff flakes caked onto your scalp. Ocean blue denims now faded to an ash color, a tiedie shirt near black and white. A trembling hand pulls up the shirt to reveal carved flesh, reading adjectives like "Stupid," "Useless," and "Weak." A violent scream echoes, and a bang follows. The trigger was pulled.

#depressive #depression #suicide #trigger warning #anorexia #writing

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queen18xo · 4 years

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Chapter Two of my McDanno fic.

Danny Williams paced the floor of his office, turbulently. He couldn't swallow the fact that someone in his family, someone he trusted would betray him like this, is responsible for bringing the police to his doorstep. Danny built his family from the ground up, the people working for him, they came from nothing, its thanks to him they have anything. Danny provided the members of his family with love, protection, money and stable above-board jobs, and yet someone he counted on has done him dirty like this.

Williams picks up his Glock 30 handgun and slides it into his shoulder holster before adjusting his Maserin Myrmillo 960 combat knife, ensuring it is well hidden in its place tucked tightly against his hip. Once Danny has adjusted everything into his favoured positions, he shrugs on his custom-tailored deep navy blue suit jacket before proceeding to storm out of his office.

Danny strolls around the concealed compound, trying to locate the cousins, they are not only his most trusted family members, but they are his closest friends and his hardest workers. First, he finds his underboss Chin Ho Kelly, signalling wordlessly for the man to follow him. Chin putting up no protest as he sees the calm look of fury settled on his bosses face. Along the path to the briefing room, they pick up the number one hitwoman Kono Kalakaua. Now with the two cousins beside him, they enter the briefing room to begin figuring out which member of their family has betrayed them.

Once the three of them have settled themselves into their seats, Danny calls for their resident technical expert and hacker to join them. Williams sits observing the cousins as the exchange idle small talk as they await the arrival of Adam Charles the most talented hacker this side of the equator. Danny snatched the younger man up not long after arresting him for hacking into local ATM's and speaking with the judge for him. Adam was well on his way to being enrolled at MIT, and unfortunately got caught up with the wrong people these people were only interested in using adam for his skills. However, Danny was quick to sweep in a take the younger man under his wing resulting in him being welcomed unquestioningly into the folds of the Williams families inner circle.

The way Adam glides into the room serenely is Danny's first hint as to how high the younger man is. The second clue Danny picks up on is the bloodshot eyes and lastly the way the man drags out his words while exchanging pleasantries with the cousins. Danny stands approaching the younger man slowly "Toast." He nods his head once to accompany the greeting.

Toast throws his arms around the boss his hold firm but not constricting as he embraces the man. "Hey, Jersey." The younger man greets fondly; Toast has never seen Danny as the fearless, hardened criminal and bloodthirsty killer unlike most of his underlings. Instead, Toast seemed to see him as a parental figure. He tightened the embrace before releasing and walking back to the table, gesturing for everyone to sit.

Danny looked around the room a calculating light in his eyes, taking in the thee associates sat before him. Chin Ho Kelly, a leanly built man he like his cousin is a native to the island, he plays the role of Danny's underboss Chin Ho is Danny's closest friend and most trusted advisor. Sat to his right is Kono Kalakaua, Kono is the best markswoman on the island and has specialist training in the use of sniper rifles and hand to hand combat. She plays the role of Danny's go-to hitwoman. Lastly on Chin's left rests Adam Charles, otherwise known as Toast, Toast is talented and dedicated. Within the family, he is most commonly known to be the kid brother within the Williams mafia, and his role entails hacking into law enforcement records for case files and other files that may be of use.

Danny places his hand's palm side down on the table in front of him before turning to look at Toast. "I want everything you can find on Victor Hesse. I want to know where he lives; I want to know who his family are." Danny pauses eyes fixing on the table in a futile attempt to control his anger. "GET ME EVERYTHING!" He yells slamming his palms down onto the table as the anger he feels towards this man consumes him. Toast nods, his hands are flying across the keyboard as he gathers all the information on Hesse.

Turning his attention from Toast to Kono and Chin, he levels them a furious glare. "what do you need bossman?" Kono asks, causing Danny to crack a small smile through his righteous fury. Joking nickname aside he can see that Kono is just as angry. Gazing between the two cousins, Danny tries to begin formulating a plan to take Hesse down.

Danny's eyes turn cold and detached their shade of icy blues becoming dark and stormy. "I want him dead, but first I want to know on whose orders he was working. Then we are going to make an example out of him." Danny pauses briefly smiling before continuing. " A warning if you will," he states a maniacal edge to his voice.

"I've got him, boss." Toast states turning the laptop around so that Danny can check the information. Putting Hesse's location into his phone's GPS, he stands.

Danny pauses hand on the door handle "Chin, Kono you have fifteen minutes then I want you in the garage suited up ready to go. Are we clear?" Danny commands his body, taut with tension.

The cousins stand "yes, boss." They both state moving to follow Danny out of the room, leaving Toast to pack up his laptop and see himself out of the briefing room.

Danny makes his way to the garage his gun and combat knife already on his person. He grabs the keys to his sleek silver Camaro before leaning himself against the hood of the car. While waiting for the cousins to arrive, Danny goes over the plan of attack. Usually, Danny would leave this kind of thing down to his employees, but this was a personal attack and therefore requires him to take care of the problem personally.

Chin and Kono stand with firm hands on each of Hesse's shoulders, ensuring the man does not attempt escaping. Their strong silent presence behind the man is intimidating. They stand rigid, their unmoving faces firm and coldly detached. Danny perches on the end of the cold metal of the table behind him towering over Victor where he sits on the stainless steel chair. Danny slides his gun smoothly from where its held in its holster, tapping it threateningly against the ridge of Hesse's Chin. " Now Victor, you are going to tell me exactly what I want to know or this could prove to be very painful for you," Danny states menacingly, his words leaving no room for argument.

Victor nods "what would you like to know Williams?" Hesse spits the words out vilely. Danny merely smirks at the man. Pathetic. There he sits in front of Danny talking to him as if he doesn't currently hold his life in his hands.

Danny laugh is cold as it leaves him "what I want to know is who ordered the hit on John McGarrett?" Victor smiles before shrugging his shoulders underneath the firm grip of Kono and Chin's hands. "you don't know?" he repeats, smirking up at Kono and Chin. "did you hear that guy's? He says he doesn't know." the cousins don't respond merely tighten their grip on Hesse. Danny stands up holding his gun by the barrel and slamming the butt of the weapon into the side of Hesse's face. One of his sizeable, firm, combat calloused hands grips the underside of Hesse's Chin forcing the man to face him. "Are you going to make me ask again?" He asks calmly. Hesse's only response is to merely spit his blood filled saliva in Danny's face, smiling up at the man.

Danny pulls a handkerchief from his suit jackets top pocket and makes quick work of cleaning the blood and saliva from his face. Sliding his combat knife from its sheath, he slices through the air implanting the blade into the meat of Hesse's thigh. The man writhes and screams out in agony. "what was that?" he asks, smiling down at the man. Hesse just groans shaking his head. Placing his palm atop the knife, he uses minimal strength to dig the blade in deeper twisting as he pushes down. Once satisfied he lands one more blow to the mans this time with his fist, hearing the bone in his nose snap as his knuckles collide with it.

Hesse pleads sobbing "it was Wo Fat I'm sorry. Please stop, please." The man cries out as Danny removes the blade from his leg. His body is sagging with relief as Danny begins to walk away.

Deal with him; I have work in the morning. Danny states as he makes his exit. As he is climbing inside his car, he relaxes for the first time since becoming aware of the hit on john McGarrett. John McGarrett was a well-loved cop, and there is no doubt in Danny's mind that someone will retaliate but currently can't find it in himself to care about that.

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