#managed to watch the episode and get this set out before i had to leave yaaas

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 3 - Overture

Word count: 6,733. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Takes place slightly before and through the end Episode 1 Season 1 and during the events of the actual extermination day. TW: canon typical violence and language. Alastor is an ass for most of this chapter but you get brief moments where you can see he's still a simp for his wife, he's just having A BAD DAY.

This AMAZING painting is done by the wonderful lustylita. Please follow her for the best Alastor artwork your eyes will ever feast on. The entire scene in the radio tower was inspired by this image.

Series Summary:

Present Day chapters – Alastor has been missing 7 years. No one knows what happened or where he went – not even his wife Mina, who has been searching for him. One day he shows back up and seems to expect a happy reunion with her but he won’t say where he has been. With the promise of eventually giving her both answers and revenge for the last 7 years, she decides to play along with his games, but she can’t pretend to be happy about any of it. Prequel chapters – Mina, an Irish immigrant to America, dies a violent death in 1917. She spends the first decades in Hell making a life for herself, working as a torturer for Abaddon, enforcing the one major law of Hell; Sinners can’t leave. And then she meets and falls for Alastor. They live blissfully together for decades, until one day, he just vanishes.

Chapter 3 - Overture

Present Day

Alastor sat on the balcony of his room, intently watching the road that the lead up to the hotel. He took a sip of his coffee, then checked the time on his pocket watch. This year’s extermination was set to begin in a few minutes and the hotel was short one resident.

Not that he was worried.

Mina had survived several years’ worth of exterminations without him and she was resourceful.

And she certainly knew how to make herself scarce, apparently.

No, he wasn’t concerned exactly but he was definitely agitated.

Likely this was her way of making a point to him about not knowing the whereabouts of one’s spouse during trying times, but he didn’t care for it.

As the residence of a Hellborn, the hotel was a safe haven during exterminations and therefore safe for any of its other permanent residents, including Sinners . . . as long as they stayed away from windows and doorways. Now was not the time to be playing petty games with him. If Mina wanted to continue to be stubbornly cold and distant, she could very well do so in the safety of her own room.

Alastor took another drink, looking every bit on the outside like he hadn’t a care in the world.

He supposed she could have found sanctuary elsewhere.

If his suspicions were correct and she had returned to working for Abaddon, Mina could also still claim her old residence at The Pit. That had been in her previous contract after all; housing, safety, and above all else . . . power.

Alastor sat up and squinted as a figure came into view down the road.

Well, he was almost beginning to hope she wouldn’t show up, it would have been undeniable evidence of what she was up to.

He slipped into shadows and manifested purposefully behind her.

“Playing games now, are we?” he said, delighting in the way she jumped in her skin, her usually sleek black tail fully fluffed out in agitation that he had managed to startle her.

She huffed at him and continued walking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t,” he said dryly. “It makes perfect sense to be out and about minutes before an extermination day begins.”

“I just needed some fresh air before I have to be cooped up in the hotel all day and night with you.”

“Oh, the horror,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“If you’re so concerned, then why don’t you go back inside? I don’t need an escort just to walk up the drive.”

“An excellent idea, my love,” he said and linked his arm through hers before she could protest.

They turned to shadow together and appeared a second later in the hotel lobby.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Angel announced, surprisingly awake and already with a bottle in his hand. “Or what the deer dragged in . . . the deer dragged the cat in- you know what, never mind.” He took another big gulp from his drink.

“Oh thank God, thank God, thank God,” Charlie said, launching herself around Mina in a bear hug. “We were so worried when no one could find you. Thank goodness Alastor got you back in time!”

“I was already coming up the road,” Mina mumbled and shuffled off to sit next to a very inebriated Angel.

“And where were you, exactly?” Vaggie asked with a hand to her hip. “We’ve been looking for you for the last hour.”

“I told you all we needn’t worry,” Alastor chimed in, once again using his shadow form to transport himself across the room and into the seat on the couch next to Mina, sandwiching her between himself and Angel. “Extermination Day makes everyone a bit restless. So she got a bit carried away while out gathering her thoughts? No harm done.”

Mina looked at him with surprise; she clearly hadn’t expected him to defend her. But he wasn’t about to give the impression to the rest of the hotel residents that he didn’t have the situation under control.

A scream sounded in the far distance, just loud enough to make out, but it was enough to make the mood of the room instantly shift.

A second later, the siren began to shout its annual alarm that the extermination had begun. It had just been too late to warn the first victim.

Alastor felt Mina’s weight shift a little closer to his side. His smile widened, knowing she was never as unfazed by these days as she let on. No one was.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, her eyes suddenly sad and focused on the hotel door, “No harm done.”

___

Alastor wasn’t the type to verbalize his complaints, but inwardly he had to admit, the day was proving to be particularly shitty.

In fact, his entire first week back had been more trying than he had expected. Playing along with Charlie’s childish and naive fantasies had pushed him far out of his comfort zone and the extermination had her seeming extra determined to give them all a wholesome day.

The only upside was that today was the first time since his return that Mina had gone hours without insulting or pestering him. Before his departure, they had enjoyed decades of marital bliss. All that time had allowed him to forget how difficult he found her when they didn’t see eye to eye on things.

Only this time it was worse because Alastor honestly was left feeling a bit bereft at her treatment of him. Nearly a century ago, she had been smart to keep away from him. He had been after her soul, after all. But this time was different. This time, he had no ulterior motives – not with her at least – he was just desperate to have her by his side once again.

Some of the things she had said to him, especially during the first argument in her room, had well and truly hurt his feelings. And that fucking pissed him off. It was one thing to confess to being in love, he had gotten over his reservations with that ages ago. But even to this day, he didn’t care for how easily Mina could control his emotions. It made him feel weak and distracted where once upon a time he had found strength and comfort in her.

And then to start off the day with her up and going missing the way she had was just the icing on the cake. Mina was keeping her own secrets from him, and the audacity of her hypocrisy had his already short supply of patience running on empty.

However, since the extermination had begun, she had been noticeably warmer towards him. It had begun there on the couch, her willingly leaning into his side for comfort. Then she and Niffty had disappeared into the kitchen for a while and brought back breakfast for everyone; some sort of quiche but in the shape of a cupcake that Niffty had called “egg bites.” He had been skeptical at first but then Mina had presented his own special serving, promising she had made his extra spicy, and they had been incredible.

Charlie then insisted on them all participating in some sort of social game she had called “two truths and a lie” so they could all get to know each other. He had been about to excuse himself when Mina had once again settled herself next to and against him. She had even brought him more coffee, knowing full well that he was perfectly capable of summoning it himself, just so she could make a point of being nice.

So he stayed, deciding that it would be a good opportunity to learn more about the other residents and study them. Plus, Vaggie and Husker both looked hilariously uncomfortable with Charlie’s proposition.

As their host had begun to explain the rules of the game, an explosion had gone off, close and large enough that they had all felt the rumbling beneath their feet. Mina had turned in her seat, eyes glued to the front doors, but her hand had gripped onto his bicep and held fast.

“It’s quite alright, Mina,” he had told her, “We’re safe as houses in here.”

Several smaller explosions followed, along with a resounding chorus of screams, and Charlie’s little game was forgotten as everyone sat around in tense silence.

“Well, that was a real buzzkill,” Angel said once the battle outside seemed to push itself deeper into the city center and farther from the hotel.

“Then why don’t we lift the mood a bit, eh my dear?” Alastor said, smiling pointedly at Mina.

She met his gaze but seemed uncertain.

“I don’t know, it’s been a while . . . and I don’t usually do it to make people happy.”

“Nonsense! I’ve seen you command an entire crowd into a jolly good time, you would do perfectly well just giving them a slight suggestion of a more peaceful time.”

“Whattya talking about?” Angel looked confused but he was the only one. It seemed everyone else was already clued into Mina’s ability and were considering the idea.

“You didn’t think the Radio Demon’s own wife was powerless, did you?” Alastor said, materializing a grand piano with a snap of his fingers. “They don’t call her The Siren for no reason, my friend. She can command your emotions and desires with a simple melody. Her real talent is making a person kill themselves at the sound of her voice but of course she wouldn’t do any of that here.”

“He ain’t kidding, either. Seen her get a dozen demons to turn their guns on themselves and blow their brains out,” Husker said and then chuckled. “Gotta admit, it was pretty a good night.”

“Yeah, sounds super fun. Just the kind of thing we need today,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Vaggie,” Charlie said, “Alastor said it wouldn’t be like that. Plus, I trust Mina. She would never do anything to hurt us.”

“You wont regret it,” Alastor said, appearing at Charlie’s side and holding her by the shoulders. “It’ll be more soothing than the smoothest whiskey Hell has to offer. Calm your nerves in no time at all. Mina?” He said her name with a suggestive gesture towards the piano, inviting her to begin.

 “If you insist,” Mina said and took her seat, “Did you have anything in mind?”

“You’re the professional,” Alastor said but Charlie clapped her hands.

“Oooh, ooh, I hope you know this one, it’s a bit after your time but-“ and she bent over and whispered something into Mina’s ear.

Mina feigned offence. “I’m hurt you would assume otherwise. Not all of us are stuck in the past,” she gave Alastor a teasing look.

She began playing and the soft, happy melody filled the room. It wasn’t one Alastor recognized but he had to admit, it wasn’t awful. Mina was a talented pianist, and it was rare that she chose a tune when he prompted her for one that he didn’t like.

Then she began to sing and the magic really took shape.

“I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel, feel what it’s like to be new . . .”

The first time he had heard her sing, Alastor had been convinced she was working a spell on him. Her voice was truly the most enticing he had ever heard. There had been plenty of female musicians he had respected and admired in life and in Hell but never had one made him feel the way she had. But that was just her sheer talent.

When she sang and brought her magic into it, the difference was obvious. There was no longer any individual thought of his own solidifying in his mind, nothing left of himself but whatever her siren voice commanded. It was the difference between infatuation and someone taking complete and utter control over your faculties.

Nothing would unsettle and bother him more if it was anyone else doing this to him. But Mina had never used her power over him without his consent and he had quickly learned to admit, it was the most affective drug to settle one’s nerves. And with his own power being far greater than hers, he knew he could withstand a mental attack if he ever truly fought against it. Vox had given him the opportunity to test that theory ages ago, and the rival Overlord had far stronger powers of hypnosis than his wife.

The song ended and the spell lifted but the sense of tranquility still lingered in the room’s atmosphere. All of the guests, even Niffty, looked completely blissed out.

“Jesus toots, I feel like I need a cigarette after that,” Angel said, his head lulled onto the back of the couch, and each of his six limbs limp at his sides.

Mina stood up from the piano and bit her lip as she looked around.

“Maybe I went a little too hard on them.”

“Au contraire, ma chér,” Alastor said, putting an arm around her waist, “I think it was just right.”

Indeed, the following few hours had passed nicely, allowing him to enjoy Mina’s good mood while it lasted and tolerate each and every one of Charlie’s silly forms of entertainment.

Eventually, though, due to the limited nature of her powers of hypnosis, the charm had worn off and when it did, he was more aggravated than ever. The occasional sounds of turmoil outside were the least of his problems compared to the personal Hell he was finding himself in within the walls of the hotel.

Mina’s social battery had worn out long before his and she had retreated to her room. He sent his shadow in to check on her every now and then, but found she was being sincere, rather than trying to sneak off again. She was tucked under the covers of her bed with a novel in her hand, only slightly changing positions every time he spied on her.

He should be relieved, but it just bothered him more that she felt she could simply excuse herself to do something as selfish as read while he was left playing the extroverted hotel manager. The least she could do was play another song to keep the rest of the staff more subdued. A song an hour was not that much to ask of her on a day like today, and yet she had retreated from everyone like a senseless wallflower.

Charlie was on the verge of hysteria, Vaggie and Husk were taking turns on who could be the most Negative Nancy, and Angel wouldn’t stop making leud inuendoes at everyone’s expense. Truly, by the time dusk had settled, the only person Alastor wasn’t ready to kill if it meant five minutes of peace and quiet was Niffty.

He decided enough was enough and as soon as the opportunity came where no one was paying attention to him, he slipped into his shadow form and left for his radio tower. If he couldn’t leave the hotel, at least he could get some work done.

___

Mina crawled out from her covers and went to her bedroom window, peering out over the city below.

The extermination was still going strong, more than 12 hours in. She let the curtain fall in disgust.

She knew she shouldn’t have excused herself when she had, but she was so mentally exhausted she just couldn’t take it anymore. It had gotten to the point where it was impossible for her to focus on anything, so she had left. When she became overwhelmed in social settings, she got pissy. And she was really trying to make an effort to not be pissy with Alastor, at least on this particular day.

Mina sighed, knowing she should probably return the favor of checking in on him. Although she had pretended not to notice, she was aware every time his shadow slunk into her room to make sure she was alright.

Either that, or he was making sure she was staying put. Her fault for getting home stupidly late this morning, once again on a job up on Earth she thought she could take care of overnight. But really, whatever Alastor suspected, did he really think she was going to leave the hotel while the extermination was still happening?

She headed out to find him and quickly found the other residents still gathered in the lobby, though it was evident Alastor wasn’t among them. Niffty hadn’t seen him either, so in preparation of finding him holed up in his own room, she grabbed him a glass of rye from the bar as a peace offering. But his room was very much empty and that left her one last logical place to look; the new radio tower he had added to the hotel. Mina left the glass on a table in the room and left.

He hadn’t invited her up there yet, so she had avoided going up there on principle but if he was really there tonight, she had to make sure he was okay.

After giving a soft knock on the door to announce her presence, Mina stepped into the room and stared in stunned silence at what she saw.

Alastor was using a laptop.

His jacket and monocle were off and his hair was pulled back into a tight knot in the back, meaning he was fulling engaged in his task and incredibly over stimulated by it. The state of his disarray meant he would be in an extra irate mood, but she had always found the distressed look on him incredibly attractive. When he let his guard down it was for her eyes, and her eyes alone, and it showed his level of trust in her. Plus, it was just plain hot.

But the shock of seeing him using such modern technology was more than enough to distract her from her lustful thoughts.

“Alastor?”

“Hmmm,” he responded, not bothering to look up from his task.

“Just making sure it’s actually you.”

“Very funny.”

He wasn’t telling her to get out, so she slowly approached him, noticing an image of the hotel on the screen of the laptop. His hand hovered over the keyboard rather than touching it and the green glow of his magic ebbed and flowed as the image shifted around.

“What are you doing up here?”

“I’m  . . . fuck,” he hissed through his strained smile and pinned his ears back. The laptop screen flickered to black for a second and when it came back on, the program he had been trying to use had clearly crashed. “I’m working on something. Someone around this Hell forsaken place should be.”

Mina put a hand on his shoulder and he tensed beneath her fingers but didn’t shrug her off.

“Can you do whatever this is downstairs? I don’t like you up here, it’s not safe right now.”

“I’m fine,” he said and this time he did push her hand off.

Mina crossed her arms and looked down at him, her tail swishing in agitation behind her.

“Al, please. You can have as much solitary confinement as you want in your room, to do whatever this is, where an angel is far less to break through the glass and exterminate you.”

“No one but you is annoying enough to bother me up here,” he mumbled, still not turning to look at her.

“Oh, I’m annoying now?”

“Yes, terribly so.”

“Well better annoying than dead! Not even the great Radio Demon is immune to an exterminator’s blade so you get your arrogant, narcissistic, egotistical ass downstairs unless you plan on disappearing for good this time.”

Alastor slammed the laptop shut and Mina was shocked it didn’t break in half from the force. He stood and as she blinked, he was back in his normal attire; jacket perfectly in place and hair down, though it was more frazzled than usual.

“And would that make you happy, my dear?” He sneered; eyes turned to dials as his temper began to take over. “I may be all those things and more but you have been nothing less than a cold, stubborn, secretive, hypocritic little shrew since I’ve returned.”

She glared back up at him, a solid head taller than her even if he hadn’t quite begun to morph into his full demon form.

“Sit down,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

“Sit,” she repeated, pointing a claw at his chair. Then after a beat she added, “Please.”

He complied and returned to his normal visage, though the upper half of his face was still stuck in a deep scowl.

Without invitation, Mina set herself in his lap and kissed him.

Alastor went rigid at first but as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself tighter against him, she felt him relax beneath her.

He began to kiss her back in earnest and she felt his hands tighten around her waist, his claws digging into the flesh of her upper thighs.

It was the first real moment of intimacy between them besides the quick kiss he had given her on the first night of his return. She parted her lips and he responded well, and as his tongue met hers she felt the vibration of a purr beginning in the back of her throat. It was undeniable at this moment how much she had missed him and how starved for his affection she was, and it caused her near physical pain to pull away when she did.

“Let me be absolutely clear,” she panted, still holding onto the sides of his face “I am still very upset. It’s taking all of my self-control not to lash out at any given second with you. But I’m also still madly, desperately in love with you, and am not about to lose you all over again. So please,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead, “get your precious, infuriating tail downstairs where I can remain angry without also having to worry for you.”

Alastor’s smile dropped into a thin line and for a moment he looked so sad. It was such a foreign expression on his face that Mina almost didn’t recognize it for what it was and then in a moment, it was gone, replaced by the wide, sharp-toothed smile she was used to.

She could tell he was trying to come up with another stinging remark, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, a bright flash of yellow light lit up the room. He turned his gaze to peer at something behind her and Mina stood and turned as well, looking out the large window at the destruction happening outside.

A horde of angels had come within a few hundred yards of the hotel and one of them was armed with some sort of light-wielding weapon and using it on a fleeing group of Sinners. Several angels broke free from their arial assault and descended on what was left of the scattering crowd, their spears glinting in the dim light, even at this distance.

How was this not blasphemous? Angelic beings straight from heaven getting to kill in the name of their cause while she had been sent to Hell for simply doing what she had to do to survive. And what of it if she had enjoyed it? These angels were doing far worse than she ever had while she was alive, and they clearly had as much lust for violence as she did.

“Darling,” Alastor said, standing up from behind her, “I believe we were in the middle of something.��

“I know, it’s just,” Mina said, eyes still glued to the scene of carnage below them, “I hate them. So much. I just-“

Another flash of light from whatever that horrible weapon was and Mina felt Alastor grab her arm.

“Time to go,” he said and felt the familiar light weight feeling of his shadow before she was being pulled down.

They were back in his room in an instant but he was no longer beside her. Rather, she was left standing in the middle of the normal portion of the room while he had materialized a full work bench and seat in his bayou, his focus already seemingly back on his work.

Mina knew it was just an act. He was just as affected as she was, he was just better at shutting it out, but she still hated him for it in that moment. How could he keep going like this, just pretending he wasn’t in just as much pain and turmoil as she was? She wanted to scream at him, claw at him, make him beg to take her back, make him show her that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

And why couldn’t she set her own pride aside for one night? She should go to him, tell him that none of it mattered, that she forgave him as long as he was still hers, and continue on with the kiss she had given him up in his tower. He could take her and fuck her right there on the floor of his room and it would be like none of the pain of tonight or the last seven years had ever happened.

But that wouldn’t be like either of them.

Intimacy was a struggle with Alastor. He always had to be in the exact right state of mind for it to be of interest to him. Only then would he let his guard down. Only then, could he be soft and sweet with her. And as much as her body ached for that side of him, Mina’s heart was still too bruised to give him what he would need in order to fulfill both of their desires. She could do it; the moment they had shared a minute ago had proved he was still susceptible to her advances, but it would mean letting him believe she trusted him again. And that was the crux of their situation. He demanded trust from her when, right now, she had almost none to give.

With regret, Mina grabbed the whisky glass she had left on the dresser before and walked towards him, setting it beside him without a word.

As she turned away, she saw from the corner of her eye his confused glance at the glass.

“Mina,” he said her name with the same trace of regret she felt but rather than give in, she simply walked out the door and let it shut behind her.

___

The morning came and with it, the end of the extermination. It had raged well into the evening hours, but it had given Alastor the opportunity he needed to complete his task. As deplorable as he found working with this kind of technology, it needed to be done to set the next part of his plan in motion, and it was a welcome distraction from his personal problems.

He couldn’t be wrapped up in his exasperation with having to make this blasted commercial and succumb to his turmoil over the state of his marriage. He simply didn’t have the emotional capacity for all of that at once. So, he had chosen one over the other and figured he would deal with the consequences in the morning.

Thankfully, Mina had seemed to resign herself to at least being cordial in front of the other residents. If she was still smarting from his abrupt dismissal of her advances the night before, she was being classy enough to act as if all was well when they had an audience. Perhaps today would be a better day, after all.

She had easily agreed to join the others in the lobby for his presentation and as the commercial began, it quickly became evident she was the only one who appeared entertained by his efforts.

Could she tell he had purposefully done an awful job? He couldn’t be certain, but she was failing to totally suppress a grin and as she made eye contact with him, there was a kind of familiar knowing in her look.

That shared glance between them meant more to him than the rather passionate kiss she had given him the night before.

As the commercial ended, so did their moment, and he focused his attention back to where it needed to be.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, acting for all the world as if he expected Charlie and Vaggie to be pleased, which of course they weren’t.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?” the loud little one began, followed by Charlie’s pathetic attempt to smooth things over. If she was really going to rule Hell and be the powerful force he would eventually need her to be, she really needed to work on her authoritative tone.

“Bad, the word you’re looking for is bad,” Vaggie interrupted.

“Funny, I was going for hilarious.”

Mina failed to stifle a chuckle and Vaggie turned her head to glare at her. “It’s not hilarious.”

Mina just raised an eyebrow at her.  

“Ugh, of course you’re on his side,” Vaggie huffed and turned her frustration back on Alastor. “It didn’t even explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point.”

Charlie started up again and the three of them went back and forth for a minute, Alastor purposefully riling Vaggie up until she was on her feet on the couch, trying to add height to her indignation.

“You been here a week and you – both of you,” she exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Alastor and then Mina, “are supposed to be helping, and instead you’re mocking us.”

“Oh don’t drag me into this,” Mina said, crossing her arms, “I got Charlie that spot on the news and that would have been plenty helpful if she had done a decent job of it.”

“And you don’t think we find it suspicious that the news spot you got her is what supposedly got Alastor’s attention, huh? After you made such a big deal about looking for him?” Vaggie countered.

Alastor’s smile grew as he watched the tension between the women in the room grow even more.

Mina’s ears pinned themselves out to the side as she eyed the petite demon up and down.

“You don’t want to go there with me, love. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?!” Vaggie exclaimed, “Then get him to fix that disaster of a commercial because no one is going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like him thinks is a waste of time.”

Vaggie sat back down and Alastor was just considering if the time had come to make his move when Angel raised a hand.

“What?!” Vaggie snapped.

“If in ya filming a commercial, can I suggest you take advantage of the talented celebrity you got right here?”

“Angel, you’re a porn star,” Vaggie said unimpressed and as they bantered, Alastor slithered his shadow form across the room to reappear closure to the cause of further discourse, just in time for Angel to predictably suggest that he make a sex tape with him.

“Aha! Never going to happen.”

“Will you stop hitting on my husband?” Mina said, all traces of her previous good mood gone as Vaggie and Angel unintentionally got on her last nerve.

“There’s no need to be jealous, baby,” Angel said, “You could join in. I usually charge extra for girls but if it’s in the name of helping out the hotel, I’ll give you a freebie.”

Mina growled as she stomped over to where the spider demon lay sprawled across the couch.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Angel held up all four hands in submission, “I’m just kidding around, no need to get violent.”

“I swear,” she said, a finger pointed right in his face, “come onto either of us one more time an’ I’ll cauterize every single one of those holes you use to make a livin’.”

“Jesus, Alastor, your missus is a little tense,” Angel said, brave enough to turn away from the angry feline to look up at the deer demon who was clearly enjoying the chaos. “You really haven’t fucked her since you got back, have ya?

Before Mina could react, Alastor whisked them both away via shadow back to Charlie and Vaggie’s side of the room. Her jealousy was never sourced from an insecurity of Alastor’s faithfulness to her, but rather from feeling disrespected by anyone who would dare tread on her territory. The feeling was mutual, and they had both had their moments in the past where someone’s leud comment got the better of them, but now was not the time or place for violence.

Thankfully putting the space between her and Angel, as well as keeping a well-placed hand around her hips, created an instant calming affect the hot-headed Irish woman.

They watched together as Charlie attempted to diffuse the situation more and Angel just continued making suggestive comments, though they were at least self-deprecating now.

Then, right on cue, Charlie’s phone went off and she dismissed herself to talk to her father.

“Hey, I have question,” Angel said, finally changing the subject away from his body parts, “if freaky-face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

“Oh, trust me,” Alastor laughed, before quickly extending his antlers, “I can.”

Before he could truly revel in the look of fear on their faces and the look of delight on Mina’s, Husker decided to put in his two cents, and it started another round of Angel’s inappropriate and pointless flirting. It only came to an end when Vaggie stepped in, making the point that Sinners were supposed to choose the hotel.

“Well whatta ‘bout her?” Angel asked, gesturing towards Mina, “can’t she just go downtown and sing one of her trippy little tunes to get people feeling like they want to be better people?”

Vaggie groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Absolutely not. What is it about the concept of choice that you aren’t getting?”

Alastor watched with amusement as the drunkard and the self-righteous continued to clash, not failing to notice that Mina had fully calmed down and had stepped away, trying to subtly eavesdrop on Charlie’s phone call. His wife’s instincts were still sharp as ever as to what was really worth paying attention to. It impressed and excited him. As long as he couldn’t explain anything to her himself, he needed Mina to be on her toes and trying to work things out on her own.

Lucifer must have finally wrapped things up – honestly how long did it take to ask a simple favor – because Charlie had pulled Vaggie aside, then quickly bounded out of the hotel and down the street, as Mina curiously watched the whole scene unfold.

It was time for the real fun of the day to begin.

____

Once they were done filming the commercial and were waiting for Charlie’s return, Mina took the opportunity to talk in private with Vaggie.

“Alastor made a deal with you, didn’t he?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Vaggie asked.

Mina knew he had purposefully done an awful job with the original commercial he created. He didn’t take the hotel any more seriously than she did, but he was a showman at heart and would have easily been able to come up with something more convincing than that if he had actually been trying.

She could tell immediately he was toying with them, drawing Charlie in with the idea of the commercial, but then not fully delivering until he got something in return. Then suddenly he and Vaggie returned to the lobby and the plan was a go.

So Mina ignored Vaggie’s question, not liking the implication that Alastor hadn’t let her in on his plan. True, he was hiding a lot from her, but this just all felt so painfully obvious, she didn’t feel the need to be clued in beforehand.

“What were the terms of the deal?”

“Well, that’s the weird part,” Vaggie said, “it wasn’t a big deal. He just said he would help film a decent commercial if I promised to not make him do any TV related stuff in the future.”

“Huh,” Mina said, already forming theories in her head and turned to walk away.

“Wait,” Vaggie stopped her, “you don’t think it’s more than that, right?”

Mina paused, knowing she was at a crossroads. She could do things Alastor’s way and dismiss Vaggie’s concern and pretend nothing was wrong. But Vaggie was likely too smart for that, and it would ultimately cause more distrust between them. The other option was to display just enough honesty to make it appear Mina really was on her side. If Alastor was being even a little honest with Mina, then it was true he needed to gain Charlie’s trust to get along with whatever plan of his he was concocting. And Mina seemed to have figured out before Alastor had that Vaggie was the real path to gaining Charlie’s trust.

Mina made a show of sighing and looking defeated.

“Vaggie, look, you’re a smart girl. And despite you clearly having a problem with me since day one, I respect you. So, I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t know what Alastor’s planning, but I do know him. And he never makes a simple deal, there’s always a catch. It’s either going to benefit himself more than he’s letting on or it’s going to hurt you more than he’s letting on. Sometimes both.” Mina put a hand on Vaggie’s shoulder and did her very best to look concerned. “Just promise me, if he tries making another one, you’ll tell me about it before you agree to anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Vaggie agreed, “And hey, I know things got a little tense before . . . I guess I shouldn’t have tried accusing you-“

“It’s fine,” Mina smiled, “water under the bridge.”

Later, even when they had a moment alone, she didn’t confront him about the deal. It almost certainly had something to do with Vox. Either he was using the deal to protect the hotel from Vox’s reach or he would use the deal in the future so that Vaggie couldn’t force him to get involved if Vox were to ever jeopardize the hotel in a way Alastor thought he could benefit from.

Mina decided it was best for now to sit with her theories as a test to see how well she could predict Alastor’s next moves. She surprised herself when she realized she still trusted him with her safety; because no matter what the intentions of his little deal with Vaggie were, it wouldn’t bring any harm to herself.  

As they came down the staircase into the lobby together, Alastor burst her little bubble.

“You know about the deal, don’t you?” he whispered.

Mina just smiled.

“I see your need for attention can still win out over your need for secrecy.”

He huffed. “I wasn’t keeping the deal a secret; I’m just surprised you haven’t asked me about it.”

“Hmm,” she shrugged, “I guess I didn’t find it that interesting.”

That clearly was a blow to his ego, and he sulked in silence the rest of the way into the lobby, choosing a solitary chair rather than being close to her.

Charlie arrived home and Vaggie pulled her to join them in front of the television set. The commercial began to air when an emergency broadcast cut it short.

Mina sat in shock as Katie Killjoy announced the coming arrival of the next extermination.

Just six months away? They were cutting the time between their slaughter in half?

The other residents were just as outraged as her.

Everyone except Charlie and Alastor.

Rather than continuing to watch the TV screen, Mina studied their faces and came to the sinking realization they both already knew about this.

She quickly worked out Charlie must have just found out at the meeting with the angels she had been at all day but Alastor?

How the fuck did he know?

[alderaans]

Let us hurry. We have no time.

Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow (2022)

[luvacookie]

mr steal ur girl.

eren notices an unfamiliar face at one of his frat parties…

❥ warnings : reiner bein a dick, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), nicknames, squirting, porn w a plot, intended use of lower case, mildly proof read, shy-ish reader, black fem coded.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : my first post, my first aot idea >~< ! idk how people will respond to this. i need to write a lil sum sum for con, i will work on it…

“pleaseee ! you never come out with me! plus you get to be around reiner.”

pieck stared at you through the floor length mirror, adjusting her black skin tight dress as you ignored her and continued to scroll through your phone. as per usual, she was going to one of her parties hosted by her friends and as per usual she was asking you to join her.

normally you declined, opting to stay wrapped up in bed, catching up on one of your hour long k-dramas episodes or looking over work you did in a lecture.

parties were not your scene and they never had been.

“pieck… i don’t know…” you responded sceptically, curling the end of your braid around your finger.

“i can set you up with reiner, he talks about you all the time you know,” pieck said walking over to your bed.

you sighed, you knew she was just using your delusional crush on reiner to lure you in and unfortunately it was working.

you pushed your glasses up, exhaling defeatedly. pieck smiled and clapped her hands together, jumping up from the bed.

“we have to make sure you look cute as fuck so shower, skincare, makeup, whatever you need to do and by time you get out i’ll have a cute fit for you!” she said happily, digging through your clothes.

you hauled yourself out of bed, grabbing your towel and headed to the shower. you cleaned up nicely, freshening yourself up for the party. you put your braids into a half-up half-down with a side parting, laying your edges with a decorative heart.

pieck had picked out a two piece pink set for you with white string heels, you matched your accessories accordingly with pink hair clips and white glasses.

she smiled at you in awe. “you look so fuckin’ good right now! you seriously need to get out more.”

you looked down shyly, “are you sure pie’? this is so out of my zone.”

“oh my god, of course i’m sure, now come on. reiner won’t wait all night,” she giggled.

she grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to her convertible, making sure to let the top down so the warm night air hit your faces. the ride there was filled with vibes and giggles, your nerves slowly disappearing.

soon enough you arrived at the frat house, the musics blaring through all the open doors and windows. people were dancing on the lawn, cars pulled up in every direction. pieck dragged you through the crowd, stopping for a couple seconds at a time to say hi to her mutuals.

soon enough you found your way into the kitchen with her where the rest of your friend group was.

“hey guys!” pieck called out over the music and they all greeted her back.

“no fuckin’ way you brought y/n,” connie said, licking his paper and putting the blunt behind his ear.

you waved at him, smiling lightly.

“well damn, who woulda thought,” annie said from beside him, holding a red solo cup.

“she finally managed to convince me soooo…” you trailed off leaning against the counter.

“you look hot though,” sasha commented, a lazy smile on her face as if she was already high.

“mmm, cheers to that,” reiner said from behind you.

you turned around, looking him up and down. he had a simple white tee on that hugged his arms perfectly, a pair of black cargo’s with a silver chain. he handed you a cup and knocked it with yours, tipping the contents of it back.

you stared at him briefly, watching his throat move as he swallowed. you followed shortly after, pulling a face as the liquor burned your throat.

everyone spoke amongst themselves, pieck catching up on all the lost drinks, leaving you and reiner to have a sweet conversation.

“why don’t i see you out enough?” he asked, looking down at you.

you turned your head to the side, the eye contact making your stomach flip, “not really my thing.”

“they should be,” he followed up quickly, “you’re too pretty to be kept hostage in your dorm.”

you looked at him, smiling. “thanks.”

“no problem sweetheart,” he poured himself another drink, refilling yours too.

“you drink a lot?” he asked, sipping on his mix.

“not really, only when i come to these things, which is basically never,” you chuckled lightly, tasting your drink.

“i’m gonna have to force pieck to bring you out more, you’re too fuckin’ pretty darling.”

“rei, stop you’re making me feel shy,” you sighed, looking at him with obvious heart eyes.

he made a noise in his throat, a cocky smirk on his face. “dance with me?”

you stared, your brain slowly registering before you nodded. you turned to pieck, gesturing that you were going with reiner and she gave you a massive thumbs up in encouragement.

reiner took your hand in his and lead you to where the music was the loudest, putting your hands around his neck as his met your waist. he stayed with you like that for the majority of the song, his eyes holding yours.

your acrylics danced at the nape of his neck, as the grip on your waist slowly became tighter. he pulled you close enough for your chests to be touching, forcing you to look up at his height.

“are you even listening ? hellooo?”

“yeah..yeah, who’s that?” eren asked, ignoring whatever armin was saying.

armin looked around, “who?”

“her,” eren said, nodding in your direction.

“oh, y/n l/n. she’s in my english major,” armin said dismissively.

eren nodded, watching how you were slowly grinding on reiner, or realistically how your tits were moving in your dress. he had never seen you before, so how did you know reiner of all people?

as the song ended you pulled reiner down to your height, muttering something to him in which he nodded. you left the room, leaving reiner to join one of his other group of friends, though he didn’t see where you left to as porco joined him and armin.

you returned to the kitchen where connie was left on his own, tapping the ash off his blunt into the sink.

“you and reiner?” he asked, his words slightly slowed.

you poured a shot, smiling to yourself. “maybe. i don’t know.”

you tipped it back as he continued talking to you. “he likes you, you know that right?”

you reapplied your lipgloss, “does he?”

“for real, he talks about you all the time,” he inhaled slowly.

“that’s cute. i like him too,” you smiled at connie.

he exhaled and turned the roll to you, “you smoke?”

“no… i’ve only hit once before,” you admitted, staring at it.

“you don’t wanna hit that shit, probably laced,” came a deep voice from behind you.

you turned to see eren leaning on the door frame, staring at you. he was wearing simple grey sweats and a white tee, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“fuck off yaeger,” connie muttered, rolling his eyes, smoke exhaling his mouth with a string of cusses following.

he ignored connie, focusing his attention on you. “you’ve never been to one of these before have you?”

“do i stand out that bad?” you shook your head, the sound of your acrylic tapping the glass following.

eren walked round the counter, pouring himself straight whiskey. “oh you stand out… would’ve remembered your face.”

you tip your head to the side and glance back at connie who stares at you blankly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“means your cute, your boyfriend is lucky,” he comments swiftly.

“my boyfriend ?” you question, toying with the curly end of your braid.

“reiner. i would think so anyways after the way you were dancing with him,” he responds, a glint in his eye as if he was digging for information.

you look up and make eye contact with him. “he’s not my boyfriend—”

“not yet anyways,” connie interrupts.

you felt your face flush, unsure if you had turned a shade of red or not. you shook your head and had another shaky shot, the alcohol seeping it’s way into your bloodstream.

“what’s your name ?” eren asks, sipping vodka straight from the bottle that was left on the counter.

“y/n,” you responded. “don’t worry, i know who you are eren.”

he tipped his head to the side slightly, he liked the way you said his name.

he hummed, continuing his drink when his friend armin entered the room.

“are reiner and annie fucking or something ?” he asks, a twinge of annoyance in his tone.

you turned to look at armin, your heart slightly dropping. “what do you mean ?”

armin looks at you as if he hadn’t registered you were in the room, “n-nothing. just the way they were talkin’ and dancing and shit..”

you were sure you felt your heart drop this time. annie and reiner ? they had never gave an indication that they liked each other.

you looked off to the side, your throat slowly going dry.

connie noticed and sighed. “they like siblings, don’t stress it.”

you nodded, “y-yeah of course, i just need some air or something.”

you used that as your cue to leave, eren’s eyes following your figure as you walked past him towards the back garden.

you were slightly embarrassed, choking up in front of three boys, two of them you barley knew. you sat on a chair in the corner, taking a shallow breath and texting pieck.

y/n : i think i’m ready to cut pie

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : y ? e oksy?

you looked at her message and knew she was drunk, yet she still tried her best to check in on you.

y/n : yh dw abt me imma jus take an uber or smthin

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : olay

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : grt home sfe iky <3333

you sighed and turned your phone off, looking at the people in the garden. you heard giggling and saw reiner and annie trip over one another, clearly having a good time with themselves.

you turned your phone on and scrolled through your missed texts when you felt a person stood behind you. you looked up and saw eren’s green eyes looking at annie and reiner.

“what a prick,” eren sighed, looking down to meet your eyes.

“it’s cool. annie’s better than me by like tenfold so i’m not really shocked,” you responded, dropping your phone in your lap.

“don’t be fuckin’ dumb, reiner’s a blind asshole. he always has been,” he comforted you. “here.”

he handed you his lit joint and you took a hesitant hit, careful not to get lipgloss all over the paper.

eren watched you as you exhaled into the air, swallowing nothing. “you good?”

you nodded, “ ‘m good.”

you guys stayed like that for a while, exchanging useless comments and smoking. eren was glad that your mood had been lifted. at some point you had ended up back in the kitchen with your group of friends, high and definitely drunk.

pieck had everyone do body shots off of her stomach and made you dance round the counter like an idiot, something you were too drunk to question.

“where’d you go?” reiner’s voice said from behind you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

you tensed uncomfortably, though reiner was far too gone to notice. you wriggled out of his grasp, turning around to look at him. “s-sorry, i ended up getting distracted by eren and connie.”

eren nodded at whatever words mikasa was saying, his eyes focusing on the way reiner was forcing a conversation after abandoning you to fuck around with annie.

“yaeger? what were you doing with that bastard ?” reiner said, ignoring the way you rubbed your arm rather nervously.

“n-nothing, we was jus’ talking and shi—”

“fuck that, don’t hang around with that kid,” reiner cut you off, staring at you rather annoyed.

“reiner, i’m sorry he just—”

“why shouldn’t she hang around with me ? i’d say i’m a pretty fun time,” eren said lazily, sitting on the counter beside you.

reiner glared at him, “don’t start your bullshit with me yaeger.”

“i’d say you’re starting problems with me braun, tellin’ pretty girls they should steer clear,” he responded.

eren looked unbothered whereas reiner had become rather agitated.

he ignored reiner, turning to you, “wanna go some where else ?”

you looked at reiner then at eren before nodding, following his lead and taking his hand as he lead you somewhere else.

“fuckin’ hell. rei just got his bitch stolen by yaeger,” porco muttered, reiner still heard it.

“you good princess?” eren mumbled, the sound of his door clicking shut.

“mhm, thank you,” you responded from his desk, untying your heels as he pushed himself up on his bed.

“for what?” he asked pointedly, his eyes locking with yours.

“the reiner thing—”

“anybody with working brain cells could see that you were uncomfortable, i was just helping out,” he dismissed, his hands resting behind his head.

you nodded, holding eye contact with him. the room went silent, the only sound being the tapping of your acrylics against the wood of his desk.

eren sighed, patting the cover of his bedsheets. “c’mere, you too far away.”

you let out a little laugh, hopping off his desk and standing in front of him. he grabbed you by your hands and pulled you on top of him, settling yourself on his hips. he was less than bother by the sudden added weight of your own body, his hands meeting the side of your thighs.

“you really are mad pretty,” he mumbled, squeezing the fat of your thighs that was closer to your ass.

you exhaled, turning your head to try and hide your smile. he grabbed your face and turned it back to him, his eyes hooded with lust.

you stared at him and your eyes dropped to his lips and unfortunately for you, he didn’t miss it. you took a deep breath and leaned forward, encasing eren’s lips in yours.

his hands instantly moved to your ass, squeezing roughly. he kissed you back hard, pushing his hips upwards.

your hands travelled to the back of his hair, your acrylics burying themselves in the nape of his neck. he sat up properly so he could flip you over, a shear display of his strength.

he bit at the bottom of your lip, taking advantage of the whine you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hands wondered down the front of your top, though he pulled away, inspecting your face.

“why’d you stop ?” you mumbled, your eyes darting towards his swollen lips.

“nothin’, just checking to see if you’re actually sober. you alright with this though ?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, tugging at his hoodie.

he laughed. “you’re a desperate thing aren’t you.”

“eren, please,” you mumbled, pulling him forwards with more force.

“fuck. whatever you want princess,” he groaned, grabbing you by the neck and pulling you into a deeper kiss than before.

you moaned quietly as he untied the front of your shirt, revealing your lacy white bra.

“please tell me you weren’t wearing this for reiner,” he begged, rubbing on your tits.

you shook your head. “thank fuck for that.”

he pulled your skirt off, revealing your matching set, throwing the skirt somewhere in his room.

“fuck sake, y/n,” he muttered, eyes trailing the whole of your body.

you tugged at his zipper, “off, i want it off.”

he unzipped his hoodie with a chuckle, removing his shirt too, revealing his muscles. “makin’ demands now ?”

you rolled your eyes and pulled him back in for another heated kiss, your hands trailing down his body and palming his dick through his grey bottoms. he groaned, kissing you harder as you continued to stroke his growing hard-on through the material.

he pulled away and began kissing down your neck, leaving deep hickies as he went down, kissing all the way down your stomach till he got to the top of your lace thong.

he made eye contact with you as he placed a light kiss on your cover clit, watching as your mouth slightly dropped open. he pulled your panties down, stuffing them in his pocket whilst he rubbed on your clit with slow circles.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now angel. did you know that?” he asked, continuing with his agonisingly slow circles.

“mm fuck, eren, please—” you whined, your hands gripping his sheets.

“please what princess?” he teased, watching your body squirm under his touch.

you whined even louder. “fuck, i want more—” you cut yourself off with a shallow moan as he dipped his middle finger inside of you briefly before pulling it out.

“more what?” he teased.

you looked at him with round glossy eyes, “please eat me out.”

“that’s all you had to say princess,” he laughed, finally giving you what you wanted.

his tongue made contact with your clit and he licked eagerly, making his middle and ring finger stretch you out nicely.

“gotta make sure this pretty pussy is ready for my dick hm,” he mumbled on your clit, sucking on it roughly.

you babbled incoherent sentences, scratching as far as your hands could reach down his shoulders. your moans gradually increased in volume as his slender fingers worked your insides deliciously, finding that soft spot your own couldn’t reach with ease.

“f-fuck eren— feels so fuckin’ good,” you moaned gripping on his sheets harder.

just as you could feel your orgasm approaching, you could feel your phone vibrate beside you.

pieck was calling you, your thighs began to close but eren forced them back open. “answer it.”

“b-but—”

“i said answer it and be quiet.”

you looked at him before doing as he said, his fingers working harder than before.

“y/nnnn! where did you gooooo?” pieck shouted down the phone.

“i-i went with— mm-fuck, eren—” you struggled, pulling at eren’s hand.

“to do whatttt? you guys are missing the party” she yelled, giggling shortly after.

you struggled to hold back a moan as eren sucked more feverishly on your clit, “ ‘m s-sorry pie’, w-we’ll be — fuckfuck— we’ll be b-back soon.”

pieck stayed silent on the other side for a moment. “ohmygodyouanderenarefucking?!”

eren laughed, the vibrations on your clit causing you to let a loud whine slip past your mouth, one pieck definitely heard.

“OHMYGOD YOU ARE! GUYSGUYS EREN AND Y/N ARE—”

you hung up on her and threw your phone on the floor some where, focusing back on eren. “that is y-your fault.”

he pulled up and looked at you, the lower half of his face covered in your slick. “i told you to be quiet princess.”

you rolled your eyes as he continued finger fucking you, his tongue slipping to your hole every now and again.

a strange feeling built up in your stomach, making you push him away by his shoulders. “mm— eren wait, f-feels like ‘m gonna—”

his dick twitched at the thought of you squirting from him eating your pussy, so he pushed your hands away. “stop, let me finish.”

“no— eren—”

he grabbed your arms with his free hand and held them to your side, licking at your clit more needly as he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers. “i got you princess.”

you moaned loudly and the clear liquid drenched your thighs and his sheets, eren’s fingers still working you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck, eren— please—” you moaned desperately, tears sliding down the side of your face as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut.

“give me one more, i know you can y/n,” he mumbled, pulling your thighs open as his fingers working faster, grazing your soft spot every time.

you shook your head, feeling your second orgasm approaching harder than the first one.

“fuckfuckfuck, eren please—” you came around his fingers a second time, moaning loudly.

“there you fucking go,” eren smirked, feeling your cunt squeeze him. he slipped his fingers out and kissed your clit gently before coming back up to kiss you.

“you okay princess?” he asked quietly, looking you in your eyes.

you nodded lazily, fucked out from the two orgasms he gave you. “ ‘m good.”

“good cause i’m not done with you yet,” he exhaled, kissing you again.

he pulled his bottoms down, revealing his white calvin klein boxers that hugged his straining dick.

“this is your fault,” he said mimicking the words you said to him earlier.

you ignored him and palmed at his dick, feeling it twitch under the contact. you pulled his boxers down and let it free, continuing to rub it bare.

“fuckk—” he groaned, “shit, let me get a condom—”

“i’m clean,” you interjected, “and on birth control.���

eren looked slightly taken back. “are you sure ?”

you nodded desperately, “i need you please—”

“well shit. i’m clean too don’t worry,” he reassured you.

you nodded and continued rubbing his dick.

he moaned lowly before grabbing your face, “open.”

you opened your mouth and he stuck his fingers down your throat, the same ones that had been inside you.

he pulled them out and rubbed them on his dick, mixing your spit and his pre-cum.

next time i’ll have to get head, he thinks to himself before lining his dick up with your cunt. you moan loudly as the tip slowly pushed past your pillowy walls, hugging eren tightly.

“shit—” eren cussed as he felt your nails dig into his bicep, “you’re never fuckin’ getting rid of me princess.”

he bottomed out, making you whimper. he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his length. he watched your face for any signs of discomfort before slowly moving in and out of your cunt.

“fuck eren— you feel- so good—” you babbled incoherently, clawing deep marks down his back.

he nodded, lifting your leg to put it over his shoulder to get a better angle. he increased his speed, rubbing at your clit, making you squeeze his cock.

his hips stuttered. “stop doing that, gonna make me cum.”

“i want you to cum in me though,” you said, looking at him through your lashes.

eren scoffed and went deeper, thanks to the angle his tip kept assaulting your sweet spot.

you whimpered, “fuck eren— gonna cum—”

“no you’re not. hold it,” he grunted, gripping your hips and pulling you down to meet his base.

“eren,” you whined.

his pacing slowed down, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he neared his high.

“fuck— princess, i’m gonna cum—” he muttered into your ankle, nibbling slightly.

you squeezed around him at the sensations. he let out a deep moan, his cum painting the insides of your pussy white.

you came as you felt him empty inside of you, digging a crescent shape into his back.

“f-fuck,” you mumbled, watching him pull his dick out.

you whined at the empty feeling, though eren chose to ignore it. “imma be back.”

he picked his boxers up from the floor and pulled them on, walking to his bathroom. he walked out with a warm cloth, gently wiping the insides of your thigh.

“is your back okay? i noticed all the scratches and some were kinda bleeding…” you said sympathetically.

“don’t worry about me, i’ve had worse,” he smiled.

when he finished he put it on his desk and walked back over to you, kissing you gently.

“you good princess?”

you nodded dazed, causing eren to chuckle. he pulled you up and helped you get dressed, allowing you to fix your makeup and hair.

when you left his bedroom the party was still full swing, people dancing and drinking.

“ayeee ! there they are,” porco called out, clapping eren on the back when he sat next to him.

you were about to walk off to sit with pieck and sasha when eren grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap.

you looked at him confused when he muttered in your ear. “didn’t i tell you you’re never getting rid of me ?”

you were sure this time you were blushing, especially when he kissed the dark hickey on your neck.

“alright, we get it, you fucked, get a room,” sasha fake gagged, giggling after.

eren made eye contact with reiner. “she won’t be able to walk next time we get a room.”

[forever-rogue]

Hi! If you’re taking requests then can I please ask for you to write a Joel x Reader one where Joel and Reader have been dating for a long time and are now finally happily living in Jackson (with Ellie), and it was all going fine until Joel’s PTSD is randomly triggered and he accidentally hurts Reader when she touches him as a way to check on him and offer him comfort like she normally would do during one of his panic attacks?

Like maybe they’re at a family bbq (with Tommy and his wife) or the bar or even at their own home when something — whether it be a certain sound, smell, word, etc. — triggers him to the point where he is totally out of it and gets startled when Reader touches him, causing him to slightly hurt her by grabbing her wrist or whatnot because he mistakes her as a threat. Once he snaps out of his PTSD episode, he immediately feels horrible and regretful despite how much Reader tries to assure him that she’s okay and it wasn’t his fault. But it’s not enough; he starts to distant himself out of fear that he’d potentially hurt her again and out of fear that he’d finally done something enough that’ll make her want to leave him. Reader catches on though and then does her best to make Joel realize that she doesn’t blame him for what happened, she’ll always be there for him — through the good, bad, and ugly —, and she’ll never leave him because he’s the love of her life. Just basically a whole lot of hurt and comfort (with a hint of angst and fluff) lol.

(Ah, I’m so sorry that this ended up being such an annoyingly long and detailed ask! I was struggling with how to express my idea in words, and just ended up rambling… I hope it’s okay! 😭 Please feel free to change anything — you’re incredibly talented, so I completely trust your wherever your creativity takes you if you choose to write this).

Anyway! Thank you so much for writing and sharing all of your stories — your writing is truly outstanding and really just your account as a whole is one of my absolute favorites! 🫶🏻

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of PTSD

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Think you made enough food?” you felt Joel’s arm at the small of your back as you set up the desserts you had made. You turned to him and pretended to huff before playfully swatting his hand away, “I think you’ve got enough for the whole of Jackson.”

“I never hear you complaining, Joel Miller,” you grabbed one of the chocolate cookies you’d made and took a bite before offering half to him. He playfully bit it out of your hand, causing you to giggle at him, “no manners, Mr. Miller. None at all!”

“I,” he mumbled through a mouth of cookie, “am a perfect gentleman, darlin’.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you uncovered the rest of the baked goods you’d prepared and marveled at your handiwork, “this is a family barbeque but you know that basically means everyone will be here since we’re all basically one big, weird family. Hence, I made plenty.”

“What’s a smart woman like you doing with a fool like me?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in a for a sweet kiss, practically beaming when you pulled back, “baby.”

"Don't baby me, Miller," you planted a playful, sloppy kiss on his cheek, "go on and help your brother with the barbecue so we can actually eat."

"Fine," he clutched at his heart as he scoffed before making his way over to Tommy. You couldn't help but watch him go, shaking your head in amusement. This man.

-

The world might have been different from how it once used to be, but one of the things that never changed was the love of fireworks. Jimmy and Sandra had somehow managed to come up with a cache of them on one of their last trips out of Jackson. 

Naturally, the brilliant idea that they could be used at the barbecue was proposed and it wasn't hard to convince the younger Miller brother to go ahead with it. Under controlled circumstances, it would all be fine. 

And realistically it should have been fine…you had no reason to think that it wouldn't be. But life didn't seem to agree with you and had a completely different idea. 

You were standing with Ellie, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and you hugged onto her, waiting to see all the pretty fireworks. It hit you then and there - Ellie had never seen fireworks before! The idea in and of itself seemed wild. 

Her entire face was lit up from her big smile and the sparkling lights as the two of you watched the ones Tommy had set off. 

"Pretty cool, huh?" You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before realizing that something, or someone rather, was missing, "I'm going to go and find Joel. I'll be right back!"

Ellie was so distracted that she didn't even take much note of you leaving. It only took a few minutes before you found him near the back of the house, picking at something from one of the tables, or so you thought anyway.

"Babe?" You weren't sure if he could hear you over the clambering of the crowd and the fireworks; he didn't turn around. You walked closer to him and reached for him, "Joel?"

And then it happened all at once; he turned around and grabbed your wrist, twisting your arm at a painful angle and causing you to cry out. His eyes were dark but there was nothing there, just an empty hollowness. 

“Joel!” you tried to pull out of his tight grip but that only made things more painful. He wasn’t letting go and you didn’t know what to do - he clearly wasn’t him right now. You struggled with him for a few moments before you heard someone running up and yelling at Joel to stop. 

You looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over your body when you realized it was Tommy. If there was anyone that could help in this situation, it would be him. Tommy managed to pry Joel’s hands off you, the sheer force causing you to stumble backwards and fall onto your butt. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy’s hands were on Joel’s shoulders as he tried to get him to snap out of his trance. You’d never seen him like this and it was as scary as it was heartbreaking. You didn’t fully know what was going on but you had a fairly good guess, “Joel, this isn’t real, it’s just a memory. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re at home with us.”

That seemed to quell him even if it was the slightest bit and he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to shake whatever was going on off. 

“Breathe in and out slowly,” Tommy had a calming effect on your boyfriend who seemed to relax, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, “look around, we’re at home, we’re safe.”

Tommy took a few steps back and looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as he held out his hand to help you to up and to your feet. Once you were back up, you looked over at Joel to find looking between you and Tommy,

“Joel?” your voice almost cracked as you subconsciously at your sore wrist and sore. His eyes darted to the sore area that was already red and starting to swell. 

His jaw clenched as he let out a long sigh, hanging in head in exhaustion and shame, “I’m…I’m okay.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “let me take you and Ellie home.”

“But-”

“Please?” he asked softly, offering you a pointed look. You realized what he was trying to convey and nodded before letting him lead you away, “I’ll be right back, big brother.”

You cast one last look at Joel but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your heart broke a little bit, but you kept repeating to yourself that everything would be alright. This was just a small bump in the road.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself alone in bed, Joel’s side still made up and cold. He hadn’t come to bed. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before putting on your slippers and padding down the hall. You poked your head into Ellie’s bedroom and found the girl fast asleep still; at least she was getting some rest. 

You decided to start a pot of coffee and made your way to the kitchen; when you stepped inside you found him sitting at the table and staring at his hands. You relaxed ever so slightly when you realized he was home…but something was definitely still going on. 

“Joel?” you’d been so quiet that he hadn’t heard you come in, but his head snapped up and looked at you, “h-hey, my love.”

He inhaled shakily before looking you over, his entire face turning into a grimace at the angry haze of bruising on your arm. You realized what he was looking at and moved to tuck your arm behind your back. 

“I hurt you,” was all he managed to see before you could see that his eyes were glistening with tears. You took a few steps closer and shook your head fervently, but he recoiled from you, “I did that to you.”

“No,” the fact that he tried to shy away from you didn’t stop you from getting closer, “you didn’t hurt me - that wasn’t you.”

“It was me,” gingerly, he reached for your hand and pulled out your arm so he could look it over properly. In between the marks you could see the fingerprints etched in there, “if it wasn’t me, who did this to you?”

“Baby-”

“I hurt you,” he repeated, “all because I couldn’t handle the sound of some fuckin’ fireworks.”

“Stop,” you crouched down so you could look up at him since he refused to do so, “please. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you for this. No one should - it was an unfortunate thing but it’s over and done with this and this bruising will heal and go away. But I am never going away, and if you think this one little thing will do that, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I had no control over what happened,” he was willing to concede at least that much, “and that’s what scares me. What if it happens again? What if it gets even worse the next time? What if-”

“Joel,” you reached up and put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “you can’t think like that. It’s not healthy….just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will happen again. And, if for some reason it does, we’ll take it one day at a time.”

He reached up and gently removed your hand from his face, causing you to frown deeply, “I can’t trust myself around you. If anything ever happened to you or to Ellie, I would never forgive myself.”

“Joel-”

“I need some air,” he stood up and gently brushed past you, walking outside and into the backyard. You remained rooted in your spot, but sighed heavily, blinking back the tears that threatened to well up. 

Things would be okay, you knew they would…they had to be. Right? Right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was still with you, but you could slowly see him growing more and more distant as the days wore on. Despite your reassurances that you were okay, and you still loved him more than anything, it was like he became a shell of his former self. And it wasn’t just with you, which was a bit of reassurance that it wasn’t just you, but it was with everyone. You wished there was something you could do that would easily get him back to his former self. Just as your arm grew better and less bruised, he continued to pull away and create a barrier between the two of you. 

One late night, as you laid in bed reading due to your inability to sleep, Joel came in and slowly closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. When he cleared his throat, you looked up and saw a serious expression on his face. He looked just as tired as you felt. 

“What’s up?” you asked softly as you closed your book and gently set it to the side. He remained silent for a few moments, clearly searching for the right words. Once a few moments of tense silence passed he finally looked at you, "hmm?"

"I've been thinkin'," he shoved his hands into pockets. You sat up straighter and tried to push down the nagging feeling that was already forming in your tummy, "and I think it's best…I should go."

"Go?" You parroted, not fully understanding what he was talking about, "what do you mean, Joel?"

"Go," he waved his hand around, "I don't think I should be here with you and Ellie anymore."

"Oh. Oh," you frowned at him, "so you're just going to up and leave."

"Baby, I - it's not like that," he insisted softly but you weren't just about to let him go. Not that easily, "this is what's best."

You scoffed at him, not even bothering to hide your disappointment, "that's what's best, huh? For who? For who is it best? You?"

"Best for everyone."

"Well that is just a straight up lie," you got out of bed and walked over to him, crossing your arms over his chest, "its not what's best for me at all. Or Ellie."

"Baby," it was softer and much more gentle, and almost resigned in a way.

"Listen - this time I need you to listen to me," you stood in front of him, firm and tall, "this has been going on for weeks now and I'm not just going to let you keep continuing on like this."

"I just…I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever did anything to you or hurt you in any way possible," you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "its already hard enough knowing that I did." 

"Look," you pulled back the sleeve of your sweater and held up your arm. When he refused to acknowledge what you were doing you kept a cool and even tone, "look at me."

Reluctantly he allowed himself to look at your arm, at the place he had once hurt you. Your arm was back to normal and no remnants of what had once happened. He wrapped his fingers gingerly around your wrist as he tenderly turned your arm to get a better look at it. 

"There's nothing there," you pointed out softly, "and it doesn't hurt at all. I don't think about it anymore and I don't…I never blamed you and I was never scared of you."

"You're saying that now…but what if it happens again?" You could see the genuine concern in his eyes as you reached up and gently touched his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, something he'd denied himself for what seemed like an eternity by that point.

"If it does, we'll figure it out," you meant every word you said and you hoped he knew that, "Joel, life isn't always easy and it's not always fun. But just because one hard or bad thing happened doesn't mean I'm just going to walk away. That's not who we are and that's not what we do. I'm with you forever and nothing is going to change that."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, in search of the right thing to say. Instead of verbalizing all that he was feeling, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

"If it was me that happened to and I hurt you, would you want me to just leave?" You asked softly and you could feel the shake of his head.

"Of course not," he insisted, "it wouldn't…it would have been an accident."

"Exactly," you whispered, "how do you think I feel about you? I'm not going to let you just go. Not without a fight."

"Really?"

"Of course," you took his face in your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I love you, silly man. Nothing is ever going to change that. We'll be together through the good and the bad, through thick and thin. All of it."

And that was what seemed to break him. You could hear him sniffle lightly before a few tears rolled down his cheek. You gently brushed them away before making a small sound of reassurance at him. 

"I love you, baby," he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his warm, soft body. You felt him relax into your touch as you looped your arms around his shoulders and tucked yourself into his body as best as possible. You could tell that he needed this just as much as you did; he was practically melting into your body, "so much."

"I love you," it was a sentiment whispered in his ear so only he could hear it,"so, so much my love."

"When I hurt you I just…I got so worried."

"It's understandable," you insisted, "anyone would feel that way. But I want you to also understand that I love you and that nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know," a huff of laughter escaped him, "I've always known that."

"Good," you gave him the beaming smile that he still managed to fall in with over and over again, "because I've always known that you love me too. I can't promise everything, but I can promise you one thing."

"What's that?" He trailed his fingers against your jaw.

"That we'll always be together," you pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, "and we'll get through anything. And that I will always love you."

"That's three things," he teased, a glimpse of his true self coming though.

"Joel!" You were laughing though and he loved that sound, "get the sentiment though."

"I do," he agreed gently, "I love you."

"I love you too, Joel Miller."

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

He’s mine || Billy the kid x oc!reader

Summary: Mrs Riley’s affection for Billy does not go unnoticed by you, or anyone for that matter. There was hardly competition because unlike her, you weren’t married and sworn to another man, but Mrs. Riley just needed a little push over the edge and she would be done for. What you didn't expect however, was that you would be there at the scene of her downfall.

Warnings: slightly dark oc! mention of blood, shooting, oc sorta manipulates Billy, possessiveness, guilt trapping, violence, mention of dead body

Wc: 4,712 this is a loooong one, longest one ive ever written lol.

A/n: Sofía does not back down when it comes to getting what she wants is all I gotta say 😃 also it's sorta long because I'm basically retelling some of the scenes from the btk episode but with sofia in it so..

Divider by @pommecita

In Mr. Murphy's sprawling house, the air buzzed with animated conversations, and the linger familiar scent of alcohol and smoke added to the vibrant atmosphere. You and Billy navigated the lively gathering, your hand on Billy's arm.

"There he is," A voice murmurs softy, pulling your attention away from Billy. "Billy! Come here." John Riley, Murphy's right hand man, beckoned him over for a chat. You could sense the hesitation within Billy but Mr. Riley persists. "I would like to introduce you to my wife," He rests his hand on the woman's waist. She looked no more than 3 years older than you, her hair elegantly arranged in a bun as she showcases her pearly white smile.

"Honey, this is the fella I was telling you about, this is Billy the Kid," Because of how tall Billy was compared to majority of the people here, Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley had to gaze up at him. "Billy belongs to The House now. This is Irene," John gestures to his wife.

Watching the entire ordeal by his side, you saw a glint of desire in Irene's eyes. "Howdy," Billy tips his hat nonchalantly, sporting a bored expression as Irene extends her hand out for a shake. Your gaze drifts around the room, noticing eyes already fixed on you as your hands delicately squeeze Billy's arm.

"So, you're a cowboy, are you?" She grins broadly, the smile stretching from ear to ear, her hand lingering on Billy's just a beat longer than deemed necessary for a married woman with high status like her. "Oh, he's an outlaw, baby," Mr. Riley corrects his wife with a sly smile. Leaning in, he murmurs into her ear, "This man's wanted for murder."

Irene subtly inches closer to Billy, her voice gentle and soft, "Well, it sure is nice to meet such a handsome outlaw." Her eyes carefully trace his features as Billy, feeing a tad bit awkward, manages a brief, but tentative smile, then glances towards Mr. Riley. "Billy," He bids him goodbye, tension already simmering, and he draws Irene along with him, her gaze remaining fixed on him.

"I don't like her," You assert boldly as Billy smiles, he loved it when you were up front with him. He turns to face you, his hand gently on your waist while the other finds its place at the base of your neck. "Me neither, sweetheart. She looks like trouble, and I don't want that," He reassures you, affirming his unwavering loyalty.

"Hey Billy," James Dolan interrupts his conversation with Jesse. "Uh, we've, uh, set up a little fun thing for you to do," he says, fixing an intense gaze on Billy. You set your glass down, and Jesse glances at you. "See, everyone here, they want to see what you can do with a gun, hmm?"

At the mere mention of guns, Billy's gaze shifts to the floor, and he leans back on the table behind him. "They've all heard the stories." Jesse uncomfortable shifts as you observe Dolan, "Murphy thinks it would be a great idea for you to give 'em all a little- you know- demonstration." He playfully slaps Billy's chest.

"Yeah? No." Billy says flatly, turning to leave before James firmly grips his arm "Okay, okay, Billy." He shakes head, his hands resting on his hips. You narrow your eyes at him, not liking him already. "I see you don't understand how the wicks. We're paying you a whole lot of money, so if we ask you to do something small for us in return," Billy's head drops, "we expect you to do it."

"Now, come this way," He gestures, anticipating Billy's compliance. Instead, Billy stands his ground, "I don't feel like doing that," You glance between Billy and James who kisses his teeth and beckons for a man named Jimmy.

Jesse turns around to face the table, pouring himself a glass of alcohol before extending the offer to you. A subtle shake of your head declines the offer, but Billy eagerly accepts, tossing his head back with a satisfied expression. James whispers into another man's ear, Jimmy you assume as he then continues to tell Billy how he should do this little, to show everyone how good he was.

"You can do that for us, yes?" Jimmy holds Billy's shoulder, his gaze on the floor once again. "And if you agree there, Billy, we got you a little gift, hmm?" James adds as he opens a wooden box revealing a gleaming double action revolver.

You weren't an expert on firearms but the subtle widening of Jesse's eyes before he averts his gaze signifies the weapon's quality "It's brand new. Very expensive. We think you're gonna like it," Jimmy adds as he and James stare at Billy.

Billy's gaze shifts from the gun to the two men standing before him. A momentary hush envelops the room before his eyes meet yours and Jesse's. A sigh escapes him as he sets his glass down.

Billy picks up the gun, inspecting it, before toying with it, eliciting gasps from those around the room. He then tucks it in his gun belt, pouring himself a reasonable amount of whiskey and downing it in one determined gulp. You approach Billy, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm as he wipes the corner of his lips.

"You sure you wanna do this?" You gently ask him, already knowing his reluctance. "What choice do I have, Sof?" He mutters before he's urged to move on.

"Ladies and gentleman, our friend Billy here's gonna demonstrate his gifts as a gunslinger and the reason why we hired him to protect all of our interest. Yeah?" Major Murphy's voice resonates with authority as Billy loads the gun barrel.

You stand alongside Jesse, a tantalizing sip of alcohol hovering at the edge of your lips as you observe the unfolding spectacle. Just a few feet away, Irene grips her satchel, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Come on, Billy!" Murphy exclaims, his applause echoed by the enthusiastic claps of those surrounding you.

Billy wipes his mouth, clearing his throat before fixing his gaze on the targets ahead. The initial shots are a breeze, a mere warm-up for someone of Billy's caliber. In a lightning-fast span of three seconds, all five glass bottles shatter, eliciting an eruption of applause from the captivated crowd.

You smile to yourself, you knew Billy was very skilled, this ordeal demonstrating it even further. He returns to the table where a range of guns were displayed. There's a palpable tension—anger, annoyance, perhaps both—etched across his features.

The stress of the last couple of days working for Murphy, threatening people out of their own homes, has left its mark on him. Night after night, Billy sought solace in you, pouring out his emotions as you offered him nothing but a listening ear and a comforting embrace.

In a swift motion, he removes his tie, choosing another revolver with a sense of purpose. The murmuring crowd hushes as Billy cocks the firearm, once again targeting cans on the ground—now more challenging to spot and precisely aim at, but not for Billy.

With each bullet making contact with the tin, a collective flinch ripples through the crowd, including Mrs. Riley. Unfazed, Billy seamlessly transitions to a rifle. He fires a few shots at a measured pace before seamlessly shifting into a rapid sequence of shooting, cocking, and repeating.

The tension in the crowd palpably escalated as Billy's anger became increasingly evident. The wooden backdrop itself caught fire amid his repeated shots, casting a fearful hush over the onlookers, the only audible sound being the ominous crackling of the flames.

You maintained a composed stance, your gaze unwaveringly fixed on Billy. He, too, remained motionless, likely processing the chaotic scene unfolding. A swift glance at Mrs. Riley revealed her frightened demeanor. Billy wiped his mouth, setting the rifle down, and approached you. Without a word, he took your hand, pulling you along as your eyes briefly connected with Irene, navigating through the subdued crowd.

"You okay, Billy?" You gently ask him knowing he was still fired up from before. He was sat on the bed, arms resting on his thighs with his legs open. You slot yourself in between them as your hands run through his hair, a tender attempt to soothe him.

He tilts his head back, his hands roaming around your back and down your . "You still seem stressed," You frown as he stares at you quietly, though the glint of mischief was still evident in his eyes. "I can fix that," You whisper against his lips before he kisses you aggressively, hungry, starving for more.

~

The saloon buzzed with the clinking of glasses and the shuffling of cards as Mrs. Riley sauntered in. Her eyes, keen with mischief, spotted Billy at the table, surrounded by others as he was deeply engrossed in the poker game, his attention fixed on the cards in his hands.

"Hey there Irene. Come to join in?" Sam says as Mrs. Riley smiles, "If you'll have me, Sam," As she approached, she ignored the way your hand rested on Billy's thigh as your eyes stay focused on the cards in his hands. Mrs. Riley couldn't help but cast a flirtatious glance his way, something that Billy doesn't catch on, but you do, and Charlie, who was seated on your other side.

"Good evening, gentleman," Her high pitched voice greets as you supress a subtle eye roll. True to their gentlemanly nature, they all reciprocated with polite greetings, Billy even taking his hat off as you remained silent. You silently threw daggers her way.

Your dislike towards the woman started from the second you caught her eyeing Billy when she sat beside her husband in the carriage. Even with Billy’s hands on your waist and the close proximity between the two of you that was more than platonic, it didn't seem to deter her away—drew her more in perhaps.

Undeterred, Mrs. Riley leaned in closer to Billy, her words tinged with flirtation. "My! It's Billy the Kid, isn't it?" She purred, a blatant expression of infatuation adorning her face, her smile captivating display aimed directly at him.

Billy's gaze finally shifts toward her for the first time since she stepped into the saloon. "Yes, ma'am," he responds politely, offering no more than a slight smile before his attention returns to the worn wooden table before him. You gently squeeze his thigh, and as his eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passes between you.

"Do not call me that," Irene interjects abruptbly. "It makes me feel old, and I am not old." She states, exhaling through her nose."I didn't mean to suggest you were," Billy quickly backs himself up.

Your gaze shifts to Charlie, and a subtle exchange of glances circulates the table. "I'm really so happy to see you, Billy," she utters, a faint smile playing on her lips, her voice lowering ever so slightly. The weight of her words hangs in the air, and Billy, in response, squirms uncomfortably in his seat.

You extend your hand gracefully above the space between you and Billy, a subtle bridge in the air. "Sofía Del Tobosco," you introduce yourself, your voice carrying the weight of confidence. Yet, she meets your greeting with a blank, unwavering stare, leaving the air between you tinged with an intriguing tension as the others on the table watch on.

"We haven't properly met, I'm Billy's-" "Aren't you Dulcinea's little sister?" With narrowed eyes, you retract your hand, an awkward silence settling over the table, "I'm good friends with her ya know," Mrs. Riley giggles, leaving you to decipher her intentions at the mention of your sister. A simple hum escapes your lips as you inhale sharply, shooting an annoyed look to Charlie, who quietly chuckles.

"Wanna start a new game?" Sam cuts through the silence. Irene gracefully declines the offer, "Oh, no. You go on. I'll watch," she smiles. "Good," you mutter under your breath, a quiet comment that only Billy and Charlie seem to catch.

Mrs. Riley gracefully raises a wine glass, "Here's to you, Billy," she toasts, her gaze unwavering as she lifts it to her lips. Billy's expression remains inscrutable as he watches. The corners of his lips hint at a subtle upward twitch before he speaks, "Well, we should get going."

You gladly agree with Billy as you get ready to leave, "Gentleman-" "Oh, no. Don't go," Irene cuts him off as Billy freezes, "Stay." Despite being on your feet, you cross your arms, fixing her with an irked expression. "Walk me home later?" She nervously proposes, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

Your lips part in astonishment at her words. There was no way she asking that from Billy when clearly, he has a girl by his side. Billy's eyes flicker towards you, a subtly nod indicating his loyalty. Mrs. Riley persisted, "Please, Billy?" Just as you open your mouth to respond, Sam beats you to it.

"I'll walk you home, Irene," Sam says, diffusing the tension in the air. The relief on Billy's face is palpable as you gently touch his bicep and he glances at you. He bids farewell to the table, and you follow suit, exiting the saloon with Billy. His hand extends behind him, finding yours as he pulls you along with a certain urgency, knowing what the rest of the night would entail.

~

Amidst the haze of smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol, Jesse and his gang sprawled across the room, resting a chaotic atmosphere. You were making small talk with the people around like the mannered young woman you were.

Your keen eyes wandered around the room before landing on Mrs. Riley, who was making her way to Billy. You narrow your eyes, “Has she learnt absolutely nothing?” Your words spat out with an unmistakable tone of annoyance. Charlie lets out a subdued chuckle, shaking his head as he swirled the glass of alcohol in his hand, a wry smile playing on his lips as he watches Billy and Irene.

"Hello there, Billy," Irene came up behind him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Mrs. Riley," he politely greeted her, a trace of urgency in his tone, "I wanted to see you. I really—I want to talk to you. I need to." Her words were slurred. Sensing trouble, Billy discreetly scanned the surroundings, his eyes discreetly seeking you.

"Uh- maybe now is not a good time," He made a move once his gaze fixated on your silhouette. "Oh no, definitely now. I have something to say," Irene interjected, pulling Billy back with a subtle sigh escaping him. "Get me another drink, will ya?" Her request carried an undertone of desperation, a silent plea to retain his focus.

Billy surveyed her, noticing the telltale signs that she had indulged in one too many drinks. "Sure," he bobbed his head before moving to find a servant holding glasses full of alcohol. "Gracias,' Billy thanked the woman with a smile before he redirecting his attention back to Mrs. Riley.

She gracefully retrieved the glass from his hand, her fingers delicately lingering on his before she flashed a captivating grin, taking a sip. "What did you want to say?" Billy, with a subtle furrow of his eyebrows, gently steered her back to the purpose of their conversation.

Mrs. Riley gulped. "I want to tell you about my husband," she began, and Billy couldn't help but notice a subtle shimmer in her eyes, dulled by the influence of whiskey. "What about your husband?" Billy questioned, a hint of confusion coloring his expression, uncertain where the conversation was headed.

"I- I hate him," she confessed, punctuating her words with another gulp of whiskey. At the abrupt confession, Billy's gaze eagerly sought yours once again. "You can't even imagine," She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Maybe this isn't the place to talk about this," Billy pointed out as he nervously looked at the people around who could possibly be listening.

There was silence in the air as Billy's words manage to sink into Irene's head. "No," she utters softly, delicately placing her glass on a nearby table. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" She gazed up at Billy, who sighed but complies, retrieving a packet of matchsticks from his pocket and igniting the end of her cigarette.

From afar, you were silently raging inside as you watch the two interact. You knew Mrs. Riley's affection was more than friendly, oh it was more than that. "I feel like I'm going to be sick," You mutter with an eye roll, fishing out a cigarette from your purse.

You move the end of the joint to a nearby candle letting it ignite as you take a few deep drags, eyes glued on Billy and Irene. "Thank you," Irene said lowly, her eyes looking off to the side before she directs her gaze back at Billy. "You know, you're very good-looking, Billy,"

Billy wets his lips, casting his gaze downward, an air of discomfort lingering in the unusual tension between them. "Can we go somewhere? I like you," she murmured, drawing nearer with a drop in her voice.

Billy knew what she was trying to do and he wanted nothing of it. He locks eyes with you for a fleeting moment, your silhouette veiled in smoke, a clear sign of your annoyance. "I don't think that's a good idea," He firmly says as Irene's hopeful expression drops. "Please. Please, Billy," She pleaded. There was something uneasy about how she was begging him.

"I told you I hate him. I have to get away." Mrs. Riley persisted as Billy's eyes search hers. He ignored the unsettling feeling in his stomach, "No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley." She pursed her lips before she lightly shook her head, her eyes closing for a brief moment, an acknowledgement of his rejection.

"Never mind," She giggled softly to herself, "It's not your fault," Irene gave Billy a smile before it drops slowly as if something inside of her was sinking. The two of them stood there for a couple of seconds before Billy felt her lips on his.

"What is she doing-" You stub your cigarette on the table, ready to storm off in Billy and Irene's direction before Charlie subtly interjects, his arm forming a barrier in front of you. Your eyes were wide in shock after witnessing the unexpected kiss. "Did you see that? Tell me you saw that, Charlie," you exclaimed, shooting him a pleading look.

"Yes, yes I did. But causing a scene won't help, besides, I think someone else could do that," Charlie whispered in your ear, prompting you to give him a puzzled look as your nails dig into his arm.

Charlie cocks his head to where Mr. Riley was, a few feet away from the two, standing with a few other men. You smirk to yourself, imagining the havoc you would create when you redirect Mr. Riley's eyes to Billy and Irene kissing. Charlie removes his arm from in front of you as you straighten up.

Seizing the moment, you deliberately raised your voice, "Is that Mrs. Riley with Billy?" The words echoed through the room, catching the attention of those nearby.

Mrs. Riley's husband, mere feet away, overheard the commotion. Anger flashed in his eyes as he turned to witness the scene, realizing his wife's inappropriate proximity to Billy. Without a word, he stormed out, following Mrs. Riley into the night.

You push your purse into Charlie's chest, "Watch this for me, will ya?" You gave him no time to answer before you were already moving away from him. You made purposeful strides to follow Mr. and Mrs. Riley, leading you outside.

"Hey!" You hear John's voice yell loudly as you hastily conceal yourself around the corner. You peeped from the corner as your eyes widen; John had a firm grip on Irene who was whimpering. "You fucking, lousy fucking bitch." He seethed, his hold on his wife unwavering.

"What do you mean?" Irene fired back, "I saw you in there, with Billy," John lowered his head as Irene shut her eyes. "I know what you were doing, You was trying to get him to fuck you, because you're a little fucking whore!" He taunted her, violently shaking her slender frame.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley seemed the slightest bit drunk. Sensing the intensity, you quietly moved to another spot to hear them better, "I'm tired. I want to sleep," Irene pleaded helplessly, pulling away. Her once-neat bun now betrayed signs of disarray.

"I've had enough of you. Do you understand?" John forcefully pulled her back towards him, and Irene released a pained groan. "You're a fucking embarrassment. You're always out there in heat. It's fucking disgusting and I've had e-fucking-nough!" He yelled in her face.

Part of you wanted to go out there and confront him, but what would that do? Your gaze involuntarily fell on the revolver snug in his gun belt—John Riley, a man not hesitant to use it, especially if he discovered you eavesdropping on their private dispute.

"So have I!" Mrs. Riley yelled back, making you slightly jump at the suddenness of it. "I've had enough of you; I hate you!" She roughly shoved him off of her, stumbling as she walked away.

From where you were hiding, you could see what she was doing. What she was reaching for in her garter. A revolver. Swiftly turning, she cocked it and fired, the shot lacking precision. Her lack of aim resulted in wounding John's upper right arm, and you instinctively covered your mouth to stifle a gasp, your eyes widening in shock.

Meanwhile, Billy had been searching everywhere for you. His search for you led him out front of the house where the unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced the air, prompting his head to whip in the direction of the noise.

Against the wall, you pressed yourself further, a silent witness to the unfolding chaos. In a single, fluid motion, Mr. Riley drew his gun, the metallic click resonating in the tense atmosphere before a decisive shot rang out. Her body dropped to the floor where you saw a clear view of the blood pooling around her body.

Your hands covered your mouth in both shock and horror. Trembling with fear, you couldn't tear your eyes away. At the echo of a second gunshot, Billy sprinted to the side of the house. The urgency became palpable – you needed to leave, immediately. Peeking cautiously around the corner, you saw John's back, hunched and vulnerable, as he clutched his wound.

You quickly slip out before you bump into a hard surface. Your eyes widen in shock as Billy stares down at you, his eyebrows knit in confusion yet his gaze reflecting genuine concern. Before he can question about your unexpected presence, his attention shifts behind you to where Irene's lifeless form lies sprawled on the ground.

His gaze then locks onto John, who winces in pain. "She's dead!" Billy instinctively pushes you to safety behind him; your breathing is quick and shallow, your chest heaving with rapid breaths. Billy's gaze remains fixed on Mrs. Riley.

"What did you do?" His voice turns cold, and the unmistakable sound of him cocking his gun follows. "Billy!" you whisper-yell, hand urgently tugging on his shirt. "She shot me! She tried to kill me!" John points to his bleeding wound, your fear lingering despite Billy's protective stance. "Now, get me some fucking help!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" James Dolan rushes in between the two, "what the hell is happening?" Billy's aim at John doesn't falter. "You're friend killed his wife." You flinch when John's yell rang through your ears, "She shot me! Look at me!"

"Okay, okay, just.... Billy," Dolan puts his hand on Billy's arm, lowering the gun, "Billy, put it down, all right?" Billy complies but hesitates when he puts his gun back in the safety of his belt. You clutch onto Billy's arm as pulls you into his chest, relief flooding through you as he holds you tightly.

"Hey, go fetch the doctor, huh?" You hear James yell. Unbeknownst to you, Billy's eyes stayed glued on Irene. His lip quivering slightly. There had been so much life in her just a couple minutes before, and now, he stared at her lifeless body, blood soaking into her dress.

As his hand moved to caress your hair, his eyes snap to James and John. James was ushering John to go back inside so that he could help him until Billy interjects. "We need a fucking sheriff!" He yelled, as you felt the vibration of his chest in your entire body as you clung to him even more.

"Billy, Billy please, take me out of here," You pull his face down in between your hands as he gazes at your desperate eyes. "Just, just get out of here!" James instructs the onlookers. Billy brushes the sweaty strands that framed your face back. "Sh, it's okay, 'm right here, sweetheart," He pulls you back into the warmth of his chest as you let out a choked sob.

~

“What were you doin' there?” The question, anticipated and inevitable, lingered in the air. Placing your cup on the kitchen counter, you turned to face Billy, his eyes fixed on you, awaiting your response. His expression, an enigma.

Exhaling through your nose, you crossed your arms, eyes drifting to the plant in the corner of the room. "I just wanted to check if she was okay, stumbling around the house drunk, Billy," you lied, leaving the part out where you saw them kissing and discreetly letting Mr. Riley know of the inappropriate behaviour his wife was partaking in.

Pushing off the counter, you approached Billy, your feet closing the distance. His legs, too long for the table, faced you, stretching out.

"Then Mr. Riley came, so I hid... And then it happened," you explained, shrugging. A sigh escaped your lips as you settled beside him, your hand offering a comforting squeeze to his thigh.

Billy scrutinized your features, finding sincerity in your eyes, yet sensing an underlying truth—you didn't truly care about Mrs. Riley's death. Your behaviour around her proved it.

"I just can’t stop thinking ‘bout it," Billy admitted, fingers toying with the mug handle before him. "Of course you can't, Billy-" You were cut off as Billy spoke, "She was even begging me! Fucking begged me to take her somewhere, away from him."

You bit your lip, containing your reaction to this new revelation. Irene begging him to take her away? Mr. Riley's accusatory words echoed in your mind, You were trying to get him to fuck you

"I-I should’ve done something. If I had taken her somewhere, she'd probably be alive right now," Billy stammered, and you moved to cradle his head, ushering him to stop. "Billy. Billy, stop." You spoke calmly, though turmoil brewed within.

He blamed himself for Irene's death, carrying the weight of responsibility for her demise, a fate she brought upon herself by flaunting more than friendliness—brazenly, in front of her husband.

"It is not your fault that Irene was murdered, okay?" you reassured him as he fell into silence. "Still, takin’ her somewhere could’ve helped-" "Stop!" You abruptly shouted, making Billy flinch in your grasp.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before releasing your hold on him, and Billy stared at you in shock. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just-" You halted, inhaling again to gain your composure.

“Do you really think nothing bad would’ve happened to either you or Irene if you did take her somewhere? Billy, Mr. Riley would not have taken it lightly if he found out you did take his wife somewhere,” you reason with him.

Billy nodded slowly. "Yeah, you’re right." You gave him a tight smile, patting his thigh. "I should probably get going, Jesse wants to meet up with me." Billy stood, adjusting his hat, and you rose from the seat.

"Okay, be safe." Approaching him, you smiled up, and he slipped his arm around your waist. "I love you." Leaning in, you replied, "I love you too," your lips meeting in a tender connection.

[crowdedimagines]

Roadkill - Aaron Hotchner Imagine

Based around the season 4 episode 23 titled Roadkill! I am going through a rewatch right now and just watched this one!! Also I am trying to stick to the storyline of the episode, but obviously things will be a little different in how they play out 🤩 3.6K

"How do you feel about Oregon?" JJ asks immediately after I pick up on the third ring.

"I have a feeling I would like Oregon a lot more when it isn't 3:00a.m." I tease, sitting up in bed, already knowing whatever she's calling for is going to be bad enough to to call us in this early.

"Can you be in to the office to brief in an hour? Wheels are up around 4:30."

"I'll be there!"

We both get off the phone so we can pack our go bags and get the day started, although earlier for both of us then intended. I manage to take a fast shower by the time I get out my phone is ringing again, this time it's unit leader Aaron Hotchner.

"I assume you've been informed that we have a case and we're meeting shortly." Hotch has his stern, yet tired voice on.

"Yep, showered squeaky clean. I just need some coffee and I will be on my way!" I smile, wringing out the moisture that's still in my hair and put the phone on speaker to set it down on the bathroom counter.

"I actually just made too much, I'm on my way in now. I could bring you coffee." He offers.

I pause in my actions, surprised by the offer. Although I would've been a lot more shocked a couple weeks ago. When I started with the team Hotch was going through a divorce, but in recent weeks there's been a shift in our dynamic and I'm not sure I'm dreaming it up. It all started a couple weeks back when I dropped off some baked goods after a rare long weekend away from work for him and Jack since it was his weekend to have him. They invited me to stay and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the boys. By the end of the night I was calling him by his first name instead of 'Hotch' which was a new development. Ever since it's been small gestures and looks that tell me something is different.

I've been a part of the BAU for a couple years, growing in confidence and skill the more cases I get under my belt. I spent four years in the military as a designated marksman before continuing my training with the FBI, which lead me to the Counterterrorism Division, and then to the BAU.

"That sounds great actually." I grin. Bringing me coffee to work is another new thing. Aaron has been chattier, smiling more, but coffee is a new ball park.

"Alright, I will be in around twenty. Drive safe."

I mutter back a "you too" before we both hang up. As I make my way into the office I'm the first to reach the bullpen, I came a little early once I knew Aaron was going to be in. A traveling mug is sitting on my desk and I take a long sip. It's still hot, and it's exactly how I always make it. It's also the traveling mug he almost always can be seen with. I set my bag down by my desk before climbing up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"Good morning." I knock lightly on his open door, "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

He looks up from the folder in front of him and the frown leaves his face.

"I'm glad."

I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. It'll be fifteen minutes before the rest of the team joins us. Hotch begins to fill me in on some of the details without going too much into it. We still have to brief as a team.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a vehicle being used as the weapon." I surmise.

"It's highly rare. I've never seen a case likely this first hand." Aaron admits and we discuss a few more aspects of the case.

Eventually the rest of the team trickles in and after some light conversation I go back to my desk. Garcia comes in stomping directly to my desk.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Kevin is looking into a working a secret job and I wont even know where he'll be!" She gushes.

"Slow down, he what?" I spin around in my chair. Garcia fills me in on the details of the job and exactly what he had said to her. The worry on her face is permanent.

"Don't worry yet. He hasn't gotten the job, and if he's offered, you don't even know if he'll take it! Lets just wait to worry once we have something to worry about."

Penelope nods agreeing with my words before moving onto Morgan's desk to do the same and I smile and shake my head. JJ pulls us all into the conference room.

"An unsub that kills with his car." Emily states, "I haven't seen that before."

"Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon." JJ replies, displaying pictures on the screen in front of us.

"Two victims in the last twelve days." Hotch adds, "First was hit on a morning jog and the second was a woman stranded after her car broke down."

"Both female victims, but completely different age groups." I speak up, "The first victim was 23 and the second was 43."

"Maybe they aren't connected." Morgan thinks out loud.

JJ pulls up more pictures and explains that both victims were backed over after they were hit. No chance of accident and the same tread marks at both scenes.

"With where these wounds are, the worst of the blow is high on the bodies." I comment looking through the file, "It has to be a truck or SUV to match these wound patterns."

"See if Garcia can follow that. Try tracking makes and models." Aaron directs.

"There should be significant front end damage to the vehicle." Spencer chimes in.

"Unless our unsub is smart enough and skilled enough to cover his tracks." I begin, "Somehow I don't think it'll be as easy as finding a damaged truck."

It's a five hour flight from DC all the way to Bend but thankfully it gives us all the opportunity to rest up again. By the time we land we can go straight to the police station.

"I think it's safe to say our unsub is male." I read over the case file, thinking out loud with Aaron. This is something new too, we often brainstorm together and work well to get the other thinking outside the box.

"I agree." Hotch nods, "Given what we know about aggressive driving and road rage."

"And the fact that men have an unnatural bond with their cars." Emily laughs. JJ chimes in to agree, which turns into Morgan disagreeing before Rossi is also adding to it.

"I think he has to be overcompensating. Why else have a need for a truck that big." I guess.

"Possibly." Spencer comments, "If the unsub is physically defective the car not only gives the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield."

"A way for him to avoid physical contact?" Hotch asks.

"He wants power and control of his victims." Prentiss shutters, "Female victims. It almost reads like an assault profile."

"I wanna know why he isn't getting personal with it then. If this is how he assaults women, what if there's something that prevents him from going a more traditional route. It's possible he's disabled." I suggest.

Hotch tells Garcia to look into it to see if anything recent could be a trigger and to look at the people surrounding the victims. Morgan and Rossi head to the highway to get a feel for it and see what they can get from it from the second victim's scene. Hotch and I head to where the jogger was hit.

"Not a lot of people jog here. It's a physically demanding hike." The sheriff informs gesturing to the trail.

"Well, she was a triathlete." I remind.

"The assailant drove behind her and ran her down right here." The sheriff walks us in to where the red stained gravel remains.

"She was jogging alone? Any woman would know if a car was following her up the trail. Her intuition would've been driving her crazy. She would get off the trail or call for help."

"What if he was already here waiting." Hotch agrees, taking in the scene, "What if she was the reason he was here and it wasn't random. He was waiting for her specifically."

"That would mean we underestimated him. It wasn't a random attack, it was planned and vindictive.

The team meets back at the station to go over what we've discovered. The second victim's husband comes in and recalls seeing a large black truck parked by their house giving us something. This confirms that he's targeting and stalking specific individuals.

"Ready be done for the night?" Aaron asks, he peeks his head into the conference room that only I occupy at this point. The rest of the team has already gone to the hotel to call it a night, but Aaron was still talking with the husband and I was just pouring over people in the area that raised some of Garcia's flags based on what we know so far.

"I suppose." I close the file I had been reading and rub at my eyes.

"It'll still be there tomorrow." He reminds.

"I know, the sooner the better though." That's something I don't need to remind him on. We both know it all too well. With an unsub this aggressive we know he isn't stopping anytime soon.

The drive to the hotel is short and comfortably quiet. Neither Aaron or myself have the energy to discuss anything as we're going on a fifteen hour day.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Aaron carried my bag in from the car to the foot of my bed in my room, even with multiple reassurances that I could carry it just fine. I give him a soft knowing smile before he leaves for his own room.

The next morning it's discovered that the unsub sabotaged the second victims car in order to strand them. He's very focused and well planned.

"We need to figure out why he's picking these women." Hotch states, "What makes them a target and links them together."

"Road rage, maybe they cut him off at some point?" I question, "Also how does he have the time to stalking these women to know their routines, sabotage a car, park and wait."

"Roughly eight percent of the United States is unemployed." Reid rattles off.

"Including someone who could be disabled and lives off of a pension." I remind from my earlier guess."

"Have Garcia look into it." Hotch states before walking away and I smile.

"Pretty girl is on top of it this case." Morgan teases with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe it's something to do with her getting the case early and going over it with Hotch before our team briefing." Reid says with his nose already in a new file. I can feel my face turn a shade of red.

"Pretty girl is getting extra credit!" Prentiss joins in happy to tease, even adopting Morgan's typical nickname for me and Penelope.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. I simply got in early and we were both at the office." I take a sip of my coffee, looking for any distraction, reaching out to grab a file for myself to ready through. I'm really glad that I didn't bring Hotch's travel mug in from the hotel, I still have it and I almost used it today. That definitely wouldn't go unnoticed with the people surrounding me.

Thankfully the team lets us move on and were able to brainstorm some more. Unfortunately it doesn't take long for JJ to interrupt to tell us there's been a third victim.

"Impact nearly cut him in two." The sheriff explains.

"Male victim?" I question as we arrive on the scene. The unsub hit him in a parking garage, pinning him between the truck and elevator doors. "He's getting more aggressive."

Cigarettes butts are discovered where the truck was parked in waiting. All of them stripped of the filter showing signs that he's military.

"Guys I think I know what ties the victims together." Reid interrupts, "All of the victims drove two door red coupes."

Garcia was able to look into car accidents that left someone injured enough to the point that he can't kill traditionally. He holds the person responsible for his accident for killing his loved one and his own disability. There's nearly twenty five people to still filter out off of the specifications we gave her.

"Wait you guys I think I found it." I sit up from the most recent file that had red flags, "Ian and Sheila Coakley crashed while driving home from Napa Valley on route 7 around midnight. It appeared their car was run off the road. His wife died at the scene."

"And Ian?" Rossi asks.

"He survived although he suffered a spinal cord injury."

Morgan and Prentiss go to his doctor to verify some information while we try to track down Ian. His house foreclosed after the accident.

"Track the parts for his specific truck. He's been doing his own repairs so they have to be sent somewhere." Rossi suggests to Garcia.

"Rossi gets a gold star!" Garcia sings, "He's having the parts drop shipped, I'm sending you guys the address."

"Hey, what do I get for knowing he would be disabled?" I jest, I called that from the plane.

"Nothing but my love, sugar." Garcia says before hanging up.

"I don't have a gold star, but well done Y/Ln." Aaron nods.

Arriving at the home Ian had been renting we find it empty but lots of surveillance photos of the victims and one other person who hasn't been harmed.

"Send this to Garcia now, we need to know who this is." Rossi hands me the picture. I send it to her and she's able to run his plate from the image.

It doesn't take her long to find him and contact his home, where she finds out that he's out biking with a group doing a thirty mile loop.

"Y/n, you're with me. We'll take the north side, Morgan and Rossi you start south and we'll meet in the middle." I quickly get in the passenger side of the SUV and Aaron takes off.

The biking club that target is in covers a lot of milage as Aaron speeds through the dirt road trying so hard to meet the group before the unsub does. Eventually we're closing in, but unfortunately the black truck is ahead of us and gaining on the bikers faster than we're gaining on him.

"Hold on." Aaron takes a risk by cutting Ian off before he can clip the mass of bicyclists. He does this by driving the front left corner of our car into the back right of his truck.

The airbags go off and were spun around from the impact.

"Y/n." Aaron calls. He says it a second time with more panic when I don't answer.

"I'm okay." I groan. The unsub is attempting to back his truck out of the ditch we're both stuck in to finish his mission. He took a much less impactful hit from our collision. I unclip my seatbelt and swing open my door, shattered glass falling from my lap as I stand up.

"Y/n, wait." Aaron instructs, he pulls hard on his seatbelt. It seems like he's stuck from the accident, but the worry on his face is only for me. I give him a look to say I've got this, while he continues to pull at his jammed seatbelt.

"Ian Coakley." I call out, and the man looks over to me briefly. It registers on his face that I am holding my gun and it's aimed for him, he has tears in his eyes.

"This is for Sheila." he floors it heading straight for the group that's waiting after witnessing the accident.

I plant my feet and aim for the back window of the truck, hoping to hit Ian's shoulder. Enough to stop him in his tracks before can harm anyone else without killing him. I've done enough killing myself over the years, and even with all he's done he's a man suffering with the grief of accidentally killing his wife.

The bullet leaves my gun with a loud crack, shattering the back window of the truck. He swerves but not enough to take him off the road. I let out a breath and fire again, this time sending a bullet into the back of his chair and sending his car off the road again to be stopped by a tree. I let out a huff of exhaustion from the impact leaning against the SUV.

Morgan and Rossi pull up and stop to get out and help Aaron and I after seeing our totaled SUV.

"Go" I wave them to keep driving to the unsub to see if he's ok and they do. Aaron manages to get out of the car finally, I hear Morgan call out to radio in an ambulance.

"He's still alive." Rossi shouts to us referring to Ian, they have him laying down now while applying pressure to his wound. The top of his shoulder which shouldn't be fatal, I sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks finally rounding the back of the car to join me where I stand, he steadies himself. I nod, finally putting my gun away, feeling how stiff my body is.

Aaron fully ignores my nod, taking my head in his hands and pulling my eyelid open to check for signs of a brain bleed. He wipes at my forehead, pulling back his hand with blood on it. Maybe we were hit harder than I thought. Damn airbags.

"I think you have a concussion-" He states, "and you might need stitches."

The worry on his face is deep. I can feel the guilt radiating off of him, he was the one driving. He's the one that chose to hit the unsub's truck.

"I'm okay!" I reassure him, placing my hands on top of his that still rest on my head. This is crossing a new line. He's never touched my face, and I've never touched his hands like this.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was reckless."

"I'm glad you did." I disagree, "If we had waited any longer he would've been able to get his last victim. There's an entire biking club alive right now because of you."

This reminder seems to help slightly, he looks over my shoulder where the crowd remains. I pull him in for a hug, both of us shaking slightly from the adrenaline. After a while we pull apart, the rest of the team arrives as well as a couple ambulances. One takes Ian away immediately, escorted with two police officers as well.

"It took two shots? You're losing your touch." Morgan teases, thowing an arm around my shoulder that makes me wince a little. My phenomenal aim has always been a touchy subject with him, not liking being second.

"I'm concussed and he was driving fast." I defend, fully knowing how whiny I sound.

"Statically of our entire team Y/n would be the only one likely to have made that shot with the variable speed that Ian Croakley was traveling at." Spencer chimes in.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason." I grin pulling Spence in for a hug effectively shaking off Morgan's arm.

"Yeah, whatever." Morgan shrugs, ruffling the hair in top of Spencer's head.

"Ma'am, you really need to get looked at." The emt reminds, interrupting our conversation. I leave the group and look over to see Aaron sitting on the back of one of the ambulances. We both finish getting evaluated, thankfully nothing too serious that we have to delay our flight home.

"You were right about the concussion." I grin walking up to Aaron as the sheriff walks off.

"And it would seem the stitches too." He reaches out again, thumb hovering over the threading sticking out of my forehead.

"Yeah, should make fore a pretty badass scar." I tease.

"I'm sure it will." He smiles, a real smile. The Aaron smile that I have seen so rarely, but more frequent lately. The plane ride back home is quiet, everyone drained, Aaron and I just flat out sore. By the time we get back to the BAU, Aaron sends everyone home saying the paperwork can wait for the following day. Everyone clears out and he goes back up to his office.

"Not following your own advice?"I question, walking into his office. I make my way round to his side of the desk and lean back on it. The edge of my thigh just barely meeting the outside of his arm from where he sits.

"Just wrapping up a few things before." He sets down his papers, his eyes raking all the way up me from toe to head, we both pretend I don't notice.

"You know, since I have a concussion they said I need to be under observation. No sleeping, crazy delusions, slipping into comas that sort of thing. You know anyone who wants to stay awake with me?"

"I can think of someone" He smirks, "I can put on a pot of coffee."

I pull out the to go mug he had brought my coffee in a few days ago out of my tote and hold it out to him.

"Take me home Aaron."

AHHHHHHHH i hope yall like this! i haven't written in forever to it was honestly just fun to do! :)

[fromabasementonthehilll]

Hunted

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: Doomcoming had everyone in a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ craze, it had you almost killed, until Natalie ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎found you.

Pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

Warnings: whatever the hell happened in ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎the doomcoming episode

Original request ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

A light had sprung within everyone, it was as if everything had come back to life. They danced, laughed and talked as if the crash had never even happened. You also danced, with anybody you could find, flinging your arms around in the air and enjoying the moment without a care in the world, smelling the breeze of a new spring and hearing the trees move their leaves.

Natalie had leaned against a table, drinking from her cup with the alcohol all of you had made. She watched you, admiring you, how the flare of your short skirted dress waved around as you danced; how your body moved so beautifully, and how you would talk to everyone but her. Her limerence for you was aching, you were just too oblivious to notice.

Her eyes shadowed you and only you, eventually you had saw her and made your way towards her - almost skipping with joy.

"Hey Nat!" You settled down next to her, grabbing a cup to match her.

"You're having fun aren't you?" She smiled with wide eyes, pupils as big as comets.

"Well I'm tired now. I'm glad we did this, it's nice isn't it?" You said, titling your head.

She just nodded, taking another sip from her drink.

"You look really pretty, (y/n)" She said as you walked away, you gave her a glance with a smirk on your face - making your way back to the rest of the girls.

-

The sun had began to set, though everyone seemed to get even more excited. You rubbed your eyes as you stretched your neck, almost exhausted from all the stupid things you managed to do during the day.

You walked into the cabin, hazy vision scanning the room for everyone. You managed to land your eyes upon Lottie, who eyed you intensely, though you hadn't found Natalie yet. Wondering where she was, you came up to Lottie. "Do you know where Nat is? I looked around the cabin but I can't find her." Your eyes wandered around as you grew worried.

"Don't worry about her, (y/n)." Her voice almost seemed distracted as she stared into you.

"But what if something happened? I wouldn't want her to-"

"Let her be."

A slow shiver overtook your spine while your lips quivered, opening to speak, ignoring Lottie moving her body closer to yours.

"She doesn't matter anymore."

You'd finally looked back at her, a strange fear overcoming your face. Her look towards you was overwhelming, you became agitated; dizzy, a cold sinking feeling breathing into you.

Your discernment had sensed everyone surrounding you, no longer making time to think of Natalie and where she could of been, or what she could've been doing. Though your eyes gazed under Lottie, holding your breath as she screamed hunger.

Suddenly, you were pushed down onto a chair, fast hands sucked onto your bones, tearing off the dress you wore. They were esurient against you, breathing into you as they slid their starved hands all across your beating chest. You sunk into their craze, losing all control and looking side to side, covered in nonsensical adrenaline.

You had noticed the face of Shauna, her dark brown eyes being darker than usual as she wrapped her mouth against your neck like an animal. Her savory cast snapped you out of your state, a switch in your mind had completely changed the direction of your thought, now you had to survive.

When you saw the chance, you ran. You ran faster than you ever did before, a blank mind coming over you as an impending feeling bled into you - you were their prey. Their animalistic noises chased you, stalking your rushing steps as you fled through the nightmare and into the dark woods.

A falter of your legs had you backed into a corner, they had caught you. The hunt was over and the only choice you had was to surrender into their compulsion, but despite that - you fought against them, though eventually a weak feeling taking over you as they stood before you.

Lottie fixed a crown onto her head, a terror blinded you in a way you had never come to experience, she was stronger than you. They were stronger than you.

Lottie's words were blunt, heavy with her desire.

"Stop fighting."

You had been tied up to a wooden post, against your weak will, they had all the power now.

"You know what to do." She turned to Shauna.

Shauna crawled towards you with a knife against your neck, you were shaking shamelessly with your head slowly moving away from her threat. She hesitated, and you watched her change back into something that resembled the slightest of human emotion, though that was quickly broken by Lottie's interference.

"It's okay, it wants us to," A smirk almost patterning her ghastly face, you were a stroke away from being killed and the fact that none of them cared wasn't endearing to you at all. Your eyes were heavy, grazed with hurt and confusion, it was all too surreal.

Shauna fixed her hand onto the grip of the blade, as she backed it to gain momentum for her slash,

Your impotence was gnashing.

-

"What the fuck are you doing?!" A familiar tone shouted, voicing into Shauna and interrupting her. In the flash of a second you were saved, saved from being met with death from your own teammates, relief settled into you, finally taking a breath of air.

Natalie rushed over to you, taking you down from the post you had been tied to, "Are you okay??" Her words were spoken in between gasps for air, you stayed silent as you regained composure and control.

"You can't just have her, Lottie, you're sick," Natalie spit her words out in disgust watching Lottie laugh through your turmoil. "She belongs to me, not you." You hadn't heard Natalie say it, you hadn't heard any of it really, your mind was preoccupied with sweaty arms and legs; muffled voices was all you managed to hear through your unfocused state, all of it had been lasting for too long and you were drained.

"You can't have her all to yourself, Natalie,"

"It's in all of us you know, even her, even you." Lottie moved close to Natalie.

They all looked at the two of you, stares still hungry for your blood - and they wouldn't stop, the hunt was not over.

Natalie caught on, your dissonance had resulted in a lack of awareness, hence you were startled as she suddenly grabbed onto your hand and ran back into the dimly lit woods. They kept on chasing you, as if you were running from wild wolves; you could almost sense the foaming of their rabid mouths, as if seeing it up close wasn't enough.

-

Natalie dropped down behind a tree when she could no longer see the luminescence of the fire, dragging you down with her. Both of you were panting like dogs, you leant your head back onto the oak and closed your eyes in solace.

"(y/n)," She spoke, her breath calming itself. "What the fuck happened out there?"

You opened your eyes back up and looked towards Natalie, eyebrows whining at her.

"I don't know, they just," You found it hard to put into words, you didn't even get time to think while it all happened.

"They just came onto me, like they were possessed or something." The night got darker, wind soothed your red face and all that could be heard was the girls running the wrong direction, further away from you and Natalie. Your attention diverted back to her, away from the sound, as she kept looking at you, even more confused than yourself.

"What do you mean came onto you? Is that why your dress is ripped?" Her brows furrowed, you'd think she was almost mad the way she spoke.

"I was looking for you and then they were all over me, so I ran. God it was fucking terrifying, Nat." Your thoughts were faster than your mouth, and you still couldn't think of how to describe it to her.

"You were looking for me?"

Natalie's expression had melted quietly, you couldn't see the anger and confusion in her anymore, like something had shifted.

"Of course, I was worried about you, you had just disappeared." You shivered slightly as a gust of wind caressed the tear in your dress.

"Here, have this." Natalie took her jacket off, shuffling closer to put it over you. You uncrossed your arms and helped her wrap it around your shoulders, "Thanks, Nat." You became warmer and smiled at her, pupils growing into her gaze as your eyes softened.

"That's so fucked up, (y/n)." Silence was broken as she spoke, slight worry still trailing in her lips.

"I know, It's like they were hungry for me. I mean I get it, we're basically fucked out here and everyone's losing their minds, but they almost killed me." Your vision was averted to the floor, questioning yourself as you spoke - trying to figure right from wrong.

You ultimately turned to Natalie, who never took her eyes off of you. "It's okay, you're safe with me (y/n)." She whispered, her sleepy hand resting on top of your legs.

You played with your fingers, smiling and looking back down as you sensed Natalie bear down on you through your peripheral, she moved slowly, keeping track of your expression. You met her eyes, illuminated by the moon that hung over you, and the stars that shined just for the two of you.

She gently raised her hand to meet your face, lowering her regard to your lips and back to your eyes, where your eyebrows raised like a hurt puppy, knees to your chest.

"That dress looked gorgeous on you, by the way."

Your cheeks flustered. She tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear before leaning into you, softly meeting her lips with yours. She tasted like berries and alcohol, your lips moving in sync. The breeze was soft, and you were gasping for air, grazing her beautiful moonlit face with your desperate eyes before falling further in.

-

You spent the rest of the night sleeping in the woods, gazing intently at the stars that appeared throughout the night, holding onto each other for the warmth that left with the day, your head resting on her chest.

[seikilos-stele]

There are many different ways to define the “main character” of a story, but the one I found most useful growing up is this: “the main character is the one who grows the most.” Sometimes, that means your POV character isn’t the main character. By nature, whoever grows the most will be the one audiences are drawn to; this is why audiences frequently gravitate toward side characters in ongoing tv shows; because we sense the capacity for more growth in Sidekick #3 than in Hero #1. To cope with this, the writer’s room will typically push Sidekick #3 out of the story entirely or will coax him into the spotlight and develop storylines just for him, thereby making him into a main character.

This is what we saw in OFMD. Ed and Stede were the main characters of S1. They had plenty of growth ahead of them and audiences were excited to see that teased out. Stede — selfish, out of touch, gentlemanly — longed to remake himself into a fearsome pirate. Ed — jaded, bored, infamously badass — longed to leave piracy behind and find something more meaningful. He didn’t yet know what would be most meaningful for him, and we were excited to watch Ed and Stede meet and figure it out together.

However, at the same time, the writers gave us Sidekick #3 — Izzy. Humorless, snarling, rage-filled, Izzy was your stereotypical henchman. This put him at immense odds with the rest of the cast. While everyone else, including Blackbeard, Fang, and Ivan, took to Stede’s management style, Izzy chafed under it and lashed out. Already, we can see that he has a lot of growing to do before he can get on the same level as the rest of the crew. That alone makes Izzy interesting, from an audience perspective. But what really enhances it is Con O’Neill’s performance — he brings an interiority to Izzy that’s lacking from the other characters; from his expressions to the intonation of dialogue, Con is always hinting that there’s something more to Izzy than what meets the eye.

Fans noticed. What exactly is going on inside this weird angry little rat? Why is he so furious all the time, and why is he so loyal to Ed? What will it take for him to let go of that anger and be part of the crew? By setting Izzy apart from the cast, the writers automatically set him up for an arc of growth. In S2, we watched that growth arc come into full swing. From E1-6, Izzy is on a constant climb up that hill to be part of the crew. We watch him take a bullet for the crew in E1, then attempt suicide in E2; we watch him try and fail to save the crew from execution in E3; in E4 Izzy is given a new leg and embraces his role as the ship’s figurehead. In E5 he works to train Stede and gives advice to Lucius on letting go of trauma. In E6 he embraces drag and performs in front of the crew. We see him, throughout S2, physically leaning on his crewmates and even crying in their arms — acts that S1 Izzy would never do. And we see him grappling with his relationship with Ed, admitting his love for him, mutinying against him, finding who he is without him.

By contrast, in S2, Ed’s and Stede’s growth hit a roadblock. As an Ed fan in particular, it was tough to watch him stagnate and backslide in this season. He makes no effort toward growth or change, and his efforts to leave Blackbeard behind are displayed not as growth but as a form of cowardice — running away from his problems rather than facing them head-on. Stede, at first, seems to be making progress. He makes strides as a pirate and even attains fame. But this progress toward his goals does nothing for his personal growth. Instead, it seems to catapult Stede back into his least-savory self from S1: selfish, out of touch, and vain. He and Ed enable each other in their determination NOT to grow, while Izzy fights for growth in every episode leading up to the finale.

This, essentially, is why so many fans believed Izzy was a main character. And it’s a good part of why so many fans were shocked when Izzy was killed off to service Ed’s growth, and his relationship with Stede. We spent a whole season watching him be the main character, only to be told at the end that he was really just Sidekick #3 all along. This strikes me as dishonest and unskilled, like the writers were working off intuition — good intuition, granted, for most of the season — without any real understanding or intentionality behind their decisions. They were working off what “felt” right without interrogating why it felt right, and when they hit the season finale, all those instinctive, thoughtless decisions came crashing down. The rubble left behind is difficult to sort through and honestly doesn’t make much sense. And, as an audience, we’re left with a season-long growth arc that was bafflingly cut off before it could culminate — and a prospective S3 where one of the main characters is dead and buried, after only a single season to shine.

[void-wolfie]

The Moon & Saturn

summary: Jenna comes home early one day to find a heartbreaking sight. The two of you work through your problems together.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

tw: self-harm, depression (?), mental instability, angst...

words: 1.26k

a/n: I'm a terrible writer, and it's my first time posting something like this, don't judge me too much.

**if you're easily triggered or upset by things (ie, talk of self-harm), I recommend not reading.

Jenna stood in front of you defeated, tears pooling in her eyes despite her attempts at remaining strong. She seemed desperate to reach out, yet afraid the smallest touch might break you.

You sat curled into the corner. The tear tracks would've been dry if it weren't for the fresh wave running down your face.

It would've been fine if she hadn't been home. She wasn't supposed to be, but she came home early to surprise you. When she walked in on you in the bathroom all hell broke loose.

As a kid, you always felt different from others around you, and adulthood was no different. The thoughts in your head ebbed and flowed like the waves of a tsunami and the ups and downs often pulled you under. One week you'd be fine, feeling like life couldn't get much better, then the next you'd hit a major depressive episode for seemingly no reason.

When you met Jenna you learned to hide all that. Or at least mask most of it. Eventually, you couldn't hide everything, and she met a side of you that you never wanted her to see. Late-night crying sessions, temper tantrums out of frustration, days where you were so numb you couldn't even manage to leave your bed... She saw all of it. Well, almost all of it.

A year of dating and somehow you had still managed to hide your biggest vice from her. Cutting. As far as she knew you'd never done it and you never would. It was the only lie you'd ever told her in your relationship.

The blade sat on the edge of the bathtub from when you had used it mere minutes ago, the edge still stained red.

You pushed yourself further into the corner, almost hoping the floor would crack open and swallow you whole. Anything to avoid Jenna's disappointed and heartbroken gaze.

She didn't say anything. Not yet at least. She picked up the washcloth sitting on the bathroom counter and wet it under the sink. She kneeled in front of you slowly, as though any sudden movement might scare you off.

Waves of guilt were flooding your veins. You couldn't meet her eyes, settling on watching her clean the red lines on your thigh instead. The blood had rolled down the side of your leg, creating a small puddle underneath you.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve you. She shouldn't have to come home and worry about her girlfriend having some kind of mental spiral. She shouldn't have to deal with you on top of all the other shit she deals with on a day-to-day basis.

She finished wiping the blood away and used the cloth to put pressure on the slits, attempting to slow the bleeding. She grabbed the blade from beside you, moving it to the counter instead, just out of reach.

It was silent. Deadly. Both of you watched as she tended to the cuts. Neither of you wanted to make eye contact.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She finally broke the silence, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry." It was all you could muster up, your voice hoarse and weak from all the crying. The lump in your throat made it all worse, like trying to swallow sandpaper with cottonmouth.

She grabbed your hand gently, waiting to see if you'd flinch away. She'd never admit it, but she was thankful you hadn't. She set your hand where hers was on the washcloth, "Hold this."

You did as she asked, holding the cloth in place, trying to use about the same amount of pressure she had.

She went to stand up, but before she could move away you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in place. "Please don't go," It was barely above a whisper.

Now that she had seen you here, in this dark head space, you were terrified. Terrified that if she left, even for just a second, it just might be forever. You couldn't have that; you weren't ready to lose her. It might seem selfish, but you needed her.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," She cupped the sides of your face, wiping away the tear tracks with the pads of her thumbs. She placed a small kiss on your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

The reassurance made you melt. She wasn't leaving you. Not yet.

She grabbed the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink. When she moved the rag away from the cuts it was a lot clearer how long this had been going on. A sea of faint white lines and faded pink scars littered the surrounding skin. She wanted to cry just looking at them. How could she have missed this? How could she not notice that one of the most important people in her life was suffering?

When she finished patching you up, she led you out of the bathroom and over to the bed, sitting down beside you. All you wanted was to curl up and sleep beneath the warm blankets, but the look on Jenna's face told you she wanted to talk.

"Why?" It was only one word, but a loaded question.

You shrugged, not giving her the answer she wanted. The disappointed look on her face was enough to make you rethink everything.

"And this time using words?"

"When I get... overwhelmed, I feel like I'm gonna explode. Sometimes, doing that is the only way to make it better."

"How long?"

Your silence was all she needed to know. Long enough.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you," Her voice crackled as she spoke, silent tears rolling down her face. You had done the one thing you were hoping to avoid. You hurt her.

A numbness washed over you at her words, the voices coming back louder than before. She deserves better. Why would she ever love you? All you are is a burden. All you do is hurt people. Loving you was is destroying her.

"You should leave me," the words slipped out without a second thought. You knew why you had said it, you needed to protect her from your fucked psyche, but that's not what you wanted. God, Jenna was one of the best things to happen to you if she left you... well, you didn't wanna think about that.

"What?" The question caught her off guard, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to find some sign you were kidding. "Why would say that?"

"I'm a mess, you shouldn't have to put up with me all the time-"

"Hey, no." She put a stop to your rambling before you could even get started, "I don't put up with you, ok? I love you. Every single fucking part of you. The late-night fights over stupid shit, the midnight tears followed by way too much ice cream, the way you put everyone before yourself, how you laugh at every single joke you hear, even if it's completely ridiculous. I come home every night and I think about how lucky I am to have you in my life. I love you so much it hurts. To the moon and Saturn, remember?"

That was your thing. Some couples had traditions or inside jokes. You and Jenna loved each other to the moon and Saturn.

"To Saturn."

It was a simple reply. But it didn't need to be anything more. Jenna knew that you loved her just as much as she loved you. So much so, that just the thought of losing one another was physically painful.

[simp2537]

Once again, you wrote that request super quick! I was hoping for yandere again cause that’s kinda my forte, but I can honestly say that I did enjoy that fic and thought it was pretty good (as all your fics seem to be :) ). Your fics are really short but sweet, and I thoroughly enjoy them. Also, I have another request already, but obviously don’t feel like you need to do it or anything, and especially not right away— I’m just sending requests cause you said we could, and I keep getting ideas & whatnot; I just watched the most recent Percy Jackson episode from the show and saw young Percy asking his mom “why are you trying so hard to get rid of me? I would never do this to you,” and it made me imagine a scenario. Basically, the reader (once again, gender neutral or male, and preferably a child of Apollo, but whatever works) either tries to break up with Percy— and maybe Annabeth too if you find a way to fit her into it with the idea I have in mind— or tries to run away or fight him, just something that makes Percy feel hurt & upset— and probably angry & whatnot cause I’m imagining another yandere scenario with this— to where he says something similar to what young Percy said in the show.

It’s just a neat concept I think, and I’m really interested to see what your take would be on it; thanks again for taking the time out of your day to write my requests, and have a great day :)

-🪑

Runaway

a/n sorry this one took a me longer I finally caught up on all the episodes. Any none canon events are fic magic and enjoy.

Warnings : Yandere! Percy, stalking and stalker behaviors, possessive behaviors, blood, and gore mentions.

Anon - 🪑

All Characters are aged up to 18 plus

Percy Jackson x Gender Neutral! Reader

Percy glared at the forest ahead of him. His lovely Sunni had disappeared into the wood surrounding camp. Y/n was hysterical and was tense all over. Their eyes weld with tears as they kept on going on and on about how they couldn’t do this anymore.

As Percy ventured into the woods tracking Y/n’s footprints he thought in their words. How their words cut into his soul like a knife.

“Everything is temporary, this is me of those things.”

Y/n spoke as they held in the tears that threatened to spill. Percy tried to reason with her of course. He tried to explain that he was the only person for them. He cried telling, begging them not to leave. Y/n merely took a step back, took in a breathe and stared at him.

“You aren’t a good guy Percy, you tried to kill my friend because he gave me a hug.”

“He was staring at you with a love sick look! He was asking for me to beat him up.”

Y/n don’t say much after that, they just walked away. Now as Percy tracked them he heard their soft sniffling. His poor Sunni didn’t know what to do with themselves now that he was gone.

He stared at them from an opposite tree as they sat firmly in the ground. Their first clenched the grass and muddy under them. He slowly stalked to them, his movements silent.

He grasped into them wrapping his arms around them tightly. Before they could scream a hand was clasped against them. They thrashed in his grip but it was no use. Their nose was covered and they couldn’t breathe.

Panic set in as they tried fiercely to get away. The managed to grab a dagger and slice at Percy’s arm in a weak attempt. Percy winced as Y/n dropped the dagger and went limp.

“Don’t worry, you can’t leave me, I’m the only permanent thing for you. Just like you’re the only permanent thing for me.”

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Bad Feeling

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: you have a bad feeling when your girlfriend’s working and you’ll act upon it, however it didn’t go as planned

Warnings: angsttt

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

Starting with the Angsttt👀 hope you like this! 🤍✨

———

It had been almost 3 years since you had been together with your girlfriend, Jenna. You were always with her wherever she went because being the cuddly girl she was she never wanted to get separated from you for too much time. That’s why wherever she went to film movies, she always asked an extra place for you. Everyone knew you by now, her family, her managers, her casting crew and you even got to meet the other actors she would act with. You had even gained a little following. You weren’t an actress, well you actually weren’t famous. You were just a normal girl who happened to be Jenna’s girlfriend, but people loved you two as a couple, so since the first time Jenna tagged you on her instagram stories, people started following you on social medias and tagging you two on edits or even on fanarts. You had to admit you didn’t mind that.

However with that came also a lot of responsibilities. You were starting to get recognized in public even when you were out on your own and let’s not talk about paparazzis taking pictures of you, following you home. Luckily you didn’t yet live with Jenna. You wanted to live with her but it meant leaving her no privacy at all, this is why when she wasn’t filming you’d talk through phone calls or video calls, catching up when you went with her on filming locations. This was one of those times, you had gone to Romania with her on set of “Wednesday” because she had to film her new series. There you met Tim Burton (you fangirled a lot over his movies and it was a pleasure for you to meet him) and also managed fo make friends with the other actors.

They were all around your age, so most of the times even if Jenna’d finish filming late at night you’d spend time with them, talking outside someone’s trailer or when it was colder you would just get inside and talk about everything, play cards or table games, you always had things to do, and of course there was also your alone time with your girlfriend. Luckily the time on sets was longer then the times off set so you’d see her a lot actually. When you had alone time you would help her revise her scripts, watch movies together, cuddle and even go further than that. You loved each other so much, and both of you could swear on your parents’s life that you would never find someone better than each other.

That day you woke up with a really bad feeling, well actually you had spent your whole night awake because of it. You knew something would happen, you were sure of it and when you had bad feelings, they would always come true. You were also sure that this bad feeling was about your girlfriend, so you just felt the need to be with her and protect her if anything happened. Soon Jenna’s morning alarm rang and she turned it off before turning around in your arms as she stretched “mhmmm I don’t wanna get up…” she mumbled with her eyes still closed as she snuggled up to you, hands on your chest and you gently caressed her cheeks. “Good morning my beautiful princess” you said and watched her both smile and blush, moving in closer as she hid her face in the crook of your neck giggling.

“Don’t call me that!” She said shyly and you kissed her head with a smile. You two stayed like that for a while, cuddling in silence until you spoke up. “Babe I know I probably can’t, but can I come on set with you today?” You asked, Jenna pulled back and looked at you. Eyes swollen from the sleep, she seemed confused. “You never asked me that… I think you can but why?” She asked as she caressed your cheeks, enjoying the morning cuddles. “I have a bad feeling, I feel like something bad is going to happen to you and I want to be there to stop that from happening.” You looked down. You already had these episodes, and Jenna always made you go with her, even though nothing actually happened.

“If that makes you feel more secure then yes honey of course you can, I could never deny you that” she said and you smiled, somewhat sighing in relief as you nodded and pulled her in for a sweet sleepy kiss. “Thank you honey, now come on get up so we can head to set” you said and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before both of you got up and headed to hair and makeup and then going on set. You two had some time together before filming started. “You know, you look so cute in these braids” you said and played with her hair “don’t touch them! Tim spent a lot of time doing them how he likes… I promise I’ll let you play with my hair when we get back to our trailer” you smiled and nodded at her words, kissing her cheek as you hugged her from behind, waiting for all the equipment to be ready. She looked so small in those oversized clothes.

Then Jenna started filming. It was one of the scenes inside Weems’s office. It was the place with most equipment, for some reason which you came to the conclusion to be because of the different angles the scenes were filmed at. You had to admit you loved the atmosphere that was there on sets, it was so interesting to see how all the equipment worked. Though while you checked all of the stuff around you noticed that one of the structures built in to hold the cameras was failing right on top your girlfriend. You tried to make the crew notice, but they were too busy with filming that they didn’t notice you. You hoped she would move from her position soon, but it didn’t seem like she would anytime soon.

“Shit shit shit-“ you thought to yourself as you stared at the equipment. You couldn’t just let it fall on her head, and just as the last nail keeping it up failed, you jumped in where she was and pushed her away as the equipment broke and fell on you. It took Jenna a while to get up from where she had hit the ground, but when she did she saw a terrible scene happening in front of her. “ (Y/N)! OH MY GOD-“ she ran to where you were supposed to be, there was nowhere she could see your body, except for your hand. They obviously stopped recording and tried getting you out of there, but the equipment was far too heavy to move on their own. Jenna started crying and yelling. “(Y/N)! (Y/N) Can you hear me? Please please answer me!” She then moved to the crew “AND YOU GUYS FUCKING DO SOMETHING! SHE COULD DIE UNDER THERE!” At that they tried again, to no use.

Jenna reached for your hand and as she did she heard you cry weakly “Baby can you hear me? Please please be okay-“ she said the last part mostly to herself as you gently squeezed her hand “J-Jen it hurts- I c-can’t breathe-“ you cried out in pain under the remains of the equipment. In the meantime someone had called an ambulance and you could hear it from a distance “don’t worry baby- you’ll be okay.. someone called an ambulance, just please stay with me” she said, trying to reassure you but eventually she felt you lose your grip. She began to cry more and beg for the cast mates to get the heavy pieces off of you. The ambulance soon arrived and took you to the hospital, and as much as Jenna insisted to go with you the crew didn’t let her. She had to continue filming.

However she couldn’t. She tried filming different scenes but she was too distracted, she was constantly thinking of you, if you were okay, if you were in danger, and she couldn’t help but think about the fact that you told her this morning that you had a bad feeling. It could have been her. At some point she even wanted to be her instead of you but seeing how you didn’t hesitate in jumping in front of death for you, made her realize how much she loved you and how much you loved her. The crew mates and the director though saw how Jenna was distracted so he let her go for the day, and she immediately asked to be brought to the hospital.

The other cast mates, having gotten close to you, decided to go with Jenna, one because they cared about you, two because they wanted to comfort Jenna. As soon as they arrived at the hospital and went looking for you, they were met by your doctor who explained them everything, and also told them that your life was not in danger but also that you had a chest and a head trauma so you were now resting and had a mask to help with the oxygen. Jenna couldn’t help but just be glad you were okay as she got in your room. She sat down in the visitors chair and took your hand as she cried slightly waiting for you to wake up. Emma, Percy, and Hunter there as well as they were the ones you bonded more with.

Eventually after a while you did wake up and immediately squeezed your girlfriend’s hand, who looked at you with tears in her eyes. “(Y/N)? Babe are you awake?” She asked you, having noticed your eyelids flatter as you softly smiled at her and tried to sit up, only to stop when you felt pain in your chest. “No no don’t try to sit up” she said and gently pushed you to lay back down, caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?” She asked, a tear rolling down her cheek as you wiped it away with your hand. You nodded at her question. “Geez you scared me a lot! You are so crazy at times (Y/N)!” She sighed out of relief “wow I save your life and this is the thank you I get?” You replied jokingly and watched her smile and shake her head. “Don’t do that ever again!” She said as she gently nudged your side.

“I promise baby. But next time I have a bad feeling, we’re staying home.”

[absurdthirst]

The Meeting Placer {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Mentions of anal sex, FWB?, vaginal sex, period sex, fingering, unprotected sex. derogatory language, Joel being a shit, dirty talk, high risk sex, no pull out, Joel has his red wings. Basically just PWP

Comments: You supply Joel Miller with the contraband he sells inside the QZ. You meet up to trade the good for information - and sex. Joel fucks you just like you need, regardless of if you're on your period or not.

A/N: I HC that Joel prefers anal sex to prevent pregnancy unless you are on your period. PLUS....As soon as they went under that bus in Episode 1 - I wanted to write a fic banging in a bus. 😂

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

“Shit.” Joel glances at his watch, a habit he still has even twenty years later, and he glances at the clock on the side panel. Time is different in this new era. It is regulated by FEDRA mainly for the workers to keep track and Joel knows you’ll be keeping track of the time from Bill and Frank’s. He is going to be late if he doesn’t leave now. It’s late, Tess is hanging around his room and he needs to get away. “I gotta go.” He grunts, standing up from the sofa. 

Tess glances over at the clock, snorting when she sees the time, “give her my regards.” She has met you before, only once, but she’s not dumb. She knows what you and Joel get up to during these exchanges. You bring the supplies and contraband from Bill and Frank’s. Joel gives you intel…and his cock. She doesn’t have ownership over Joel and knows you are the reason he’s stopped seeking her out. She should be mad but this new world has hardened her to silly things like emotions. 

“I’ll see ya later.” Joel says, grabbing his pack and the spare one he carries to bring everything back. 

“Be careful.” Tess says and Joel nods, making his way out of the room under the cover of night to sneak out of the QZ. He can bribe a guard if they catch him with pills. Once he’s out of the QZ, he grips his rifle and makes his way through the forest to find the rendezvous spot you have half way between Bill and Frank’s and the Boston QZ: an old school bus.

Shuffling slightly, you keep a sharp eye out. Not exactly comfortable to be waiting for long periods of time, but you had wanted to get here before dark. It’s dangerous moving through the other parts of the city. The fungal growth as well as nature taking over increased your risk every time you made the venture. 

Kicking back on the ripped and sagging seat of the school bus, you sigh softly. Another 500 pills, a pretty fucking descent haul on its own, but you had also managed to score some real whiskey. A twenty-five year old bottle of Jack Daniels sitting in the pack, wrapped in an old blanket. Plus the twelve lighters you had fixed for Joel to sell. All traded for information and the added pleasure of seeing Joel again. 

You don’t know what it is about him. He didn’t sit back and shoot the shit with you. You weren’t friends, you were business associates. Associates who just happened to fuck each others brains out whenever you met up and right now, you’re waiting on him.

Joel cuts through the growth, sheathing his knife and gripping his rifle as he walks into the clearing where the old school bus is. It’s a relic from a time long gone, no longer full of happy kids heading home after school. Now, it’s abandoned and overgrown. He steps into the bus, finding you sitting there with your legs crossed. 

“Took you long enough.” You huff playfully and Joel rolls his eyes, setting his rifle down now that he’s satisfied you’re alone. 

“Fucking infected are getting more adventurous. Gotta take the longer way around.” He says, slumping down in the seat opposite you. He’s already half hard, always is around you. Your presence is like a fucking drug to him, almost as addicted to your pussy as the guards are to the pills you trade him. “Information first or you want me to get to fucking you?”

You snort and shake your head. “You get quieter after sex, Joel. Cumming makes you mute.” You don’t kid yourself, it’s not that he’s enjoying your presence or soaking up the intimacy of the moment. This is just a release for him, for you too. Joel Miller can fuck and you always enjoy the sharp ache that he leaves you with. Reaching into your pack for the other, smaller bottle of whiskey you had brought for yourself - not to give to him - you twist the unbroken seal on the cap and offer him the first swing. “What do you have for me?”

Joel takes the bottle, eyes wide when he sees it’s a bottle of Jack and not the shitty bootleg whiskey he tolerates. “Damnnnn darlin’, where did you get this?” He asks before he takes a swig, holding the bottle back towards you. 

“That’s for me to know.” You tease and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Information…so I heard from some guards that FEDRA are considering lowering the population in some areas. Trying to make them more elite. Like the Jackson QZ, they wanna get rid of the workers and make them commute from the Madison QZ weekly to do the shit jobs but have the elites live in the QZ alone. It’s bullshit. It’s the end of the fucking world and we still have fucking elitism. Word is they expect people to riot and if they do…they are out of the QZ.” Joel hates the idea, certain that it ain’t gonna happen with the amount of workers needed to maintain the QZ for the FEDRA leaders and their families.

Your own swallow of whiskey goes down with a wince and a small hiss of pleasure before you frown. “Fucking FEDRA with their bullshit.” You grumble, knowing that whatever feelings Joel had towards the military dictatorship that runs the QZ, he won’t get involved. While you weren’t a member of the Fireflies, you believed that there were better ways to deal with this. It seems like more and more ground was being lost to the infected every year. “It’s all bullshit. End of the fucking world and they want to keep class systems.”

“The human way, right?” Joel scoffs, taking back the bottle to take another swig of whiskey. “I’m only there until I have what I need to head out and find Tommy. “Also found out that the factory down in Atlanta is makin’ condoms. Imagine selling those bad boys. People can finally cum inside and not worry about pregnancy again.” Joel smirks at you, knowing you know that very well.

You snort and shoot him a grin of your own, “tired of pulling out or fucking my ass, Miller?” You tease. It’s rare that he will fuck your cunt, many times these meet ups have him literally tearing your ass up and rubbing your clit. Not wanting to risk a pregnancy. The times that he does fuck your cunt, he’s pulling out and spilling on the floor of the school bus with groans that down sound quite as satisfied. “And here I was thinking you liked fucking me.” You pout playfully, knowing that he will roll his eyes and grunt at you.

Joel snorts at you, “you and I both know that ain’t true, sweetheart. Just would be nice to be able to cum inside that tight cunt of yours without having to pull out.” He says like he’s stating the sky is blue. He’s always a matter of fact, not wanting to blur any lines. You know what this is and you’re cool with it. “I guess the question is…what am I fucking today?” He asks, knowing you’ll tell him when he has to fuck your ass or the few times he’s allowed inside of your pussy.

You bite your lip, wondering how he will feel about it. “Well, I’m bleeding.” You admit, the cloths lining your panties are annoying but necessary to not ruin one of the few pairs of pants now. What you wouldn’t give for a tampon or a diva cup, but they are nonexistent now. “So I will leave that up to you. But I know you didn’t shower before you came so I’m not sucking your dick.”

Joel nods in understanding, knowing that he has to smell like fucking roses for you to suck him off. "You want me to fuck your cunt?" He asks, reaching out to slide his hand along your thigh until he is pressing his fingers against your jeans. "Or you want me in your ass. Your choice, darlin'. As always." He reminds you, his cock hardening at the thought of being inside of you any way you'll have him. You let him use your body for his pleasure, you don't ask questions or have expectations.

You moan softly, loving how Joel always makes it your choice. It’s easy when, if there’s an accident you would be the one dealing with the consequences, but some men wouldn’t care. You spread your legs wider, the feeling of his fingers not as vivid as it would be if you didn’t have the extra material. “Fuck my cunt.” You beg breathlessly, anticipating him feeling amazing inside your sensitive walls. “You don’t have to pull out since I’m bleeding.

Joel smirks, "yeah? No oral sex for either of us then." He doesn't go down on you unless it's a special occasion. He doesn't like the intimacy. "Better take those jeans off then baby." He orders, working on his belt as he shifts to stand up to pull his hardening cock out. There's no kissing, no pleasantries, he is all business.

You quickly start stripping down. The bus is secure enough that you don’t have to worry. Craving the feeling of him deep inside you. You smirk when you are bare below the waist and raise a brow at him. “On my back or do you want to fuck me from behind?” You ask, turning around and bending over one of the benches to shake your ass at him playfully. While it’s just fucking, you like riling him up.

“From behind.” He grunts, pumping his cock with one hand and he slaps your ass cheek. “Dirty little whore, ain’t ya?” He teases you, mocking you, as he hardens in his grip enough to slide inside of you. “You want to cum on my cock, darlin’?” He asks, slapping your ass again and he shuffles closer to swipe the head of his cock through your folds, groaning at how wet you are because of your period blood, his cock now coated in red.

“Joel.” You whimper, closing your eyes and anticipating the moment he shoves himself inside you. It’s not just your period that has you wet, you’ve been looking forward to this. He doesn’t make you wait long, cock sliding teasingly through your folds one moment and you’re being split in two by him the next. Crying out loudly, your nails dig into the seat at your body lurches forward to try to absorb the intrusion, but he holds your hips and drags you back on his cock. “Oh fuck.” You choke out, eyes springing open and another incoherent cry sounding out.

There’s nothing that compares to being inside of you. Joel is as addicted to you as the assholes are to the pills he sells. He fucking loves it. The way you clench around him when he pushes deep inside of you with no hesitation. “Always take it so good.” He grunts, grabbing your hips so he can set a harsh pace. The squelch of your blood and arousal echoes in the shell of the school bus.

Your eyes roll back and you moan out his name, loving how he just shreds up into you frantically. Like he’s been waiting to fuck you again. Like he’s been waiting for you, staying celebate. You know that’s not the case. Joel fucking you is a mutual convenience but it’s one you love. “Fuck.” You whine, holding onto the seat as he rails you into the bench. 

“Always so fuckin’ tight.” He groans, certain that he’s bruising your hips but he can’t bring himself to care, too absorbed in the way you feel around his cock. This thing you got between you is purely sexual and it’s something he thinks about between runs, when he has his cock in his hand. He can feel your blood and arousal staining his pants but he doesn’t give a fuck. His clothes are ruined anyway and at least this blood won’t be from a wound inflicted on him or him on someone else. “Shitttt.” He grunts, “that feel good, sugar?” He asks, wanting to hear your voice.

“Y-y-yessssssss.” You moan out, your entire body pitching forward every time his hips slam into your ass. You love the way that he fucks you. Crave it like a rush of endorphins from those pills. Except nothing but Joel Miller would satisfy you. Your head rolls back, arching your back so your hips dip lower, making you squeal when he hits something devastating inside you.

Hearing you moan when he hits that spot makes him growl. Focusing so his cock hits that spot over and over again. He reaches out to wrap his fingers around your neck, groaning when your cunt clenched around him. “You like that, huh? You like me fuckin’ you like you’re a little whore?” He pants, getting closer to his own orgasm but he wants you to cum first.

“Fuck.” You know that Joel wouldn’t hurt you, not like he could. But the pressure of his fingers around your airway, limiting your breath is a heady rush of pleasure. “Yes.” You whine out, wanting him to tighten his grip. You lean forward into his hand and clench around him when it restricts your airway more.

“So fuckin’ desperate, ain’t ya? You wanna cum for me, darlin’? You gonna soak my cock and then I’ll fill ya up. Only fuckin’ time I can fill you up is when you’re bleedin’. So fuckin’ wet when ya bleed.” His accent always comes out thicker when he’s inside of you. Years in the Boston QZ have softened his accent, partly from him wanting to forget about his past, partly for him wanting to blend into the background. Right now though, he’s all Texas.

God, it sounds like pre-outbreak Joel would have had a breeding kink. You whine again, imagining him filling you up every time, murmuring filth in your ear. As it is, you enjoy the thicker words. The twang of Texas that you hear. He’s never told you where in Texas, but you do know that at least. “Fuck baby,” the endearment slips out as his rocks into you harshly, completely unnoticed by you but that’s perfectly fine when you can barely think because of the way he’s spearing his cock up into you. “Gonna cum.” You gasp out, feeling your body prime for it but you wanted it to last longer.

“Shit. Do it. Do it now.” Joel hisses, feeling his control slip away, especially since he doesn’t have to pull out. His hands squeeze your hips and he brings one down on your ass, smacking you hard enough to leave you aching tomorrow. “Cum.” He demands, cock already pulsing when he’s on the edge of his own orgasm.

The sharp sting of his hand pushes you over the edge. Crying out loudly, your fluttering walls lock up around him. The steady, slick slide of his cock becomes a little harder to keep at the same pace as you squeeze him tight. “Joel- fuck, JOOOOOOELLLLLL!” You squeal, the heat of your orgasm overwhelming and you collapse forward against the seat, panting as your cunt spasms.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He growls, thrusting into you like a jackhammer, unable to withhold his moans and groans while he seeks his own high in your vice of a cunt. Blood and cum coat his cock and stain his jeans but he doesn’t care, pushing as deep as he can three more times until he pushes into you, hips pressed against your ass while his cock spasms inside of you. Filling you with rope after rope of hot cum, he hisses and bends his body over yours, pressing you even further into the seat.

You moan at the feeling of his hot seed coating your walls and starting to push out of your fluttering cunt with every quick jolt of his hips as he rides out his release. It feels completely different from turning and watching him jerk his cock to spill his seed on the floor of the bus. Instead, you get to feel his hot breath pant against your neck and you hum contentedly. “Fuck that is good.” You praise, your walls squeezing him again and making him hiss as he starts to soften inside you. 

“Always so fuckin’ good.” He compliments you, “always so good.” He takes a rare moment of affection, leaning in to kiss your shoulder before he pulls out, his cock is a mess of cum and blood, but he doesn’t care, too absorbed with the way he feels.

You groan softly, hating the empty feeling you’re left with after he pulls out. Only made better by the slight ache that you still have. The slide of his cum as it threatens to drip out of you. Instead of complaining, you pull your pants back up. You wonder if he’s going to stay or try to sneak back into the QZ tonight. Sometimes he rests for a few hours but you always leave it up to him. “I have a cloth in my bag and a bottle of water to clean up.” You offer, nodding towards your pack next to your own weapon. 

Joel grunts gratefully, making his way over to your pack to grab the cloth and bottle, cleaning his cock and he wraps the cloth up carefully, “you want me to put it back?” He asks and you nod. He follows your order and comes to sit beside you on the bench while you try to catch your breath. “You gotta head back to Bill’s tonight?” He asks you gruffly, always feeling like he has to make small talk after he wrecks you.

Shaking your head, you frown slightly. “There’s a new fungal growth in the southeastern section of the city.” You tell him, wanting him to be careful if he ventures out past your normal meeting spot. “I want to make sure that I mark the way carefully so I don’t get surprised.” You roll your eyes. “Spending the night being chased in the dark by infected is not the way that I want to spend my night.” 

Joel frowns, “yeah. That sounds like some bullshit I don’t wanna have to deal with either.” He crosses his arms, figuring he might as well get some rest. “You wanna get some sleep? I can take a watch.” He offers, knowing you must be tired after how hard he fucked you.

“Thanks.” You gratefully take the offer and finish redressing, settling down on the bench with your pack and send him a quick grin. “Night.” You offer, curling your body up and closing your eyes, knowing you will be safe while he’s watching for trouble.

Joel watches you curl up and go out like a light. He’s not sure what this thing is between you but he likes it. You have no expectations of him, you have no requirements other than he makes you cum. He’s happy to do that and you give him what he wants in return. It’s an easy relationship. Give and take. He grabs his gun, keeping it close as he watches you sleep, knowing you’d call him a weirdo for watching but he likes how peaceful you look. The stress of this life lifted from your features.

Sleep is hard to come by when you’re out in the open like this. The only reason you sleep for four hours is because of Joel watching out. Waking up, you shift, sitting up and watch him turn to look at you. “I- I’ll take over.” You offer, yawning and stretching with a groan. You feel better and know he needs to get some sleep too.

Joel trusts you to have his back so he grunts his appreciation and closes his eyes, resting his head against the school bus window to get some much needed shut eye. He cleaned his gun while you were asleep, thought over what he’s gonna sell the merch for, and maybe had a fantasy about you hanging out the window of the bus while he fucks you. That thought is out of the window when he falls asleep. He’s not sure how long he’s out until you are shoving on his shoulder. “What the fuck-?” He doesn’t get a chance to argue when you slap your hand over his mouth.

“Infected.” You barely breathe the word into his ear, your eyes fixed on the window outside. Watching as the group of about five stumbled around the clearing near the derelict bus. The doors are closed and locked, but you know that it wouldn’t keep out infected for long if they gathered up.

Joel exhales against your hand before he lowers it, “shit.” He hisses under his breath. How the fuck did they manage to come across this school bus? It’s in the middle of fucking nowhere. He grabs his gun, carefully flicking off the safety as they groan while stumbling past the bus.

Your own weapon is in your hand, ready to use if necessary. “If-“ Your voice is barely audible. “If we need to, use the bottle of whiskey and that cloth. Make a Molotov cocktail.” You suggest, not taking your eyes off the bodies as they slowly go by.

Joel shakes his head, “let’s just relax. They should move on soon then we can get going. Better to be in here than out there and get caught off guard. Let’s just wait it out.” He suggests and leans back against the bus seat. His arm unconsciously wraps itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

He’s right. It’s better to be quiet and just let them pass. You slowly holster your weapon and lean back. “Too bad we don’t have anything to do.” You murmur quietly. It was too dark to try to play cards, even if you had some. You listen to him grunt and then it’s just the sounds of the infected moving outside.

Joel smirks, knowing it’s risky but this entire existence is a risk. He wants to have some fun. His hand slides down your body until he’s squeezing your breast through your worn t-shirt. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got great tits?” He asks softly, not wanting the infected to hear.

You freeze for a moment before you exhale slowly. Not expecting Joel to sound downright cheeky in a situation like this. Apparently being in a locked bus made him a little bolder than you imagined. “All the time.” You tease, loving how his hand just covers your breast and he squeezes again. “Best feature in my opinion.” You joke quietly. “Anyone can admire them.”

Joel snorts, “you got Bill and Frank eying your tits?” He jokes and squeezes one last time before sliding his hand lower until he’s cupping your cunt. “Pussy is your best feature. Fucking gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as your face.” He admits softly, flicking the button on your jeans so he can push his hand in, uncaring of the blood and his cum as he starts to rub your clit.

Your gasp of surprise turns into a moan as your eyes flutter closed. You didn’t expect him to compliment you, it didn’t seem like Joel’s style. His lips are right against your ear as he shushes you quietly. “Can’t be too loud, honey.” He coos and you can feel the way your clit starts to throb under the pressure of his fingers. Biting your lip, you turn your head to kiss along his jaw, the first time you’ve kissed him like that. The only time you’ve actually kissed was the first time and it was harsh and needy.

Joel needs you to be quiet. He turns his head to press his lips against yours, loving how reactive you are. His tongue slides into your mouth, loving how you mewl around his tongue. His fingers rub your clit a little harder, the infected still stumbling around the bus but none of them have sensed you.

You shudder, the slide of his tongue against yours makes your cunt bottom out. Joel isn’t gentle or soft. He could be, he’s never hurt you, but there’s almost affection right here in the moment. You can feel his cock pulsing and you wonder why he is doing this instead of fucking you.

He tries to keep you as quiet as possible, fumbling to unbutton his pants with his free hand, pulling his cock out and he pumps himself while his fingers work your clit. His tongue lazily stroking yours, harsh breaths escaping his nose and he keeps his eyes shut but his ears are hyper focused on the infected outside.

“Jo-Joel.” You moan softly. “Fuck me.” You’ll beg if you have to, but the idea of him being inside you again is thrilling. Your arm twists around so you can wrap your fingers around his cock and try to pump him. The angle sucks but this is more intimate than anything you’ve done so far and you don’t want to just take from him.

He pulls his hand out of your jeans, wiping his bloodied fingers on his own without care and he bats your hand away from his cock. “Stand up.” He orders, following his own demand. You obey and he reaches out to shove your jeans down, kicking your ankle to widen your legs as much as possible. “You want the infected to see me fucking you?” He rasps in your ear, pushing you towards the glass as he pushes his cock inside of you.

The slap of your hand against the windows makes both of you freeze. A moment where your breath is held as you watch the infected, wondering if they would sense you. They don’t. The sound o you hand not drawing their attention. Making you bite your lip, holding in a moan when he twitches inside you. “Move.” You beg quietly, wanting him to move again.

He obeys, watching the infected out of the window as he rocks into you, groaning your name when you clench around him, slick with blood and his last round of cum still inside of you. “You’re so fucking needy for my cock you’ll risk getting caught by those fuckers outside.” He taunts you playfully.

“Yes.” You hiss, keeping your eyes on the infected outside. “I don’t- harder Joel.” You beg him; loving his playfulness right now. Your entire body bounced, tits shaking as he rocks into you. If any of the infected were aware, they would see you getting fucked.

He fucks you harder, pushing you harder against the glass. The thrill of danger makes this even sweeter as he thrusts deep and hard, fingers grabbing at your tits as he pushes deep inside of you with every rock of his hips.

You love how frantic he seems as well, this being the first time that he’s ever fucked you twice. He normally leaves after your meet up but he had decided to stay this time. He groans in your ear quietly and his fingers pinch your nipples through your shirt and bra. Making you bite back your moan, almost making your lip bleed from how hard you are biting your lip. 

He loves how hard you’re trying to keep quiet. “Look out the window. None of them know you’re a dirty little whore. One moan and they will know. Is being loud worth getting killed? You want them to kill you for being a little slut?” He taunts you in your ear, hips grinding deep as he tries to keep the sound to a minimum.

God, you never knew Joel MIller could run his fucking mouth like this. It’s so fucking wrong but it’s also sexy. His dark rasp in your ear adds to the pleasure and you feel your entire body tensing up rapidly. Instead of biting your lip, you shove your fist into your mouth when you feel your cunt clench. Body locking up and your cry into your fist is silent as your teeth dig into your flesh like an infected eager to pass on the fungus. 

“Fuckkkk. So fucking good.” Joel hisses through his teeth. Loving how tight you grip his cock. It’s intoxicating and he fucking loves it. Almost drunk off of how you feel, he pushes deep inside of you and pulses as he cums, filling you up for the second time that night. The infected unknowingly pass by and Joel leans over to kiss the back of your neck, silently telling you how he feels.

You sigh softly and your entire body relaxes. Even more than you did the last time. “That was- shit, that was good.” You mumble. “Let’s clean up and then we can get a few more hours.” You suggest, feeling like the two of you can both sleep before you have to leave.

Joel caresses your spine and agrees, squeezing your ass playfully and he stands up straight, grabbing the rag and bottle to clean himself up before he hands it to you. “Let’s do that. Wait until these fuckers pass.” Joel grunts after he tucks himself away and sits back down on the bench.

“Do you - uh, want to lay down together?” You ask, feeling unsure of yourself and slightly foolish. This isn’t some great romance, but it would be nice to have his warmth against you, even better to have his arms around you for a little longer. “It’s- we don’t have to.”

  Joel knows this is crossing the line you drew but he wants to hold you close. He nods and shifts onto the floor of the bus, holding his hand out towards you. This will be between you. No one else will know.

You kneel down, cautiously moving into his arms. Turning towards him, you decide that if this is the one night, the one chance, you get to do this; you’re going to curl into him. Pressing your chest to his, you find your head cradles into his shoulder and you sigh softly. “Good night, Joel.” 

He doesn’t sleep. He just holds you, allowing himself this close contact before he knows he has to go back to the QZ and you go back to Bill and Frank’s. It’s a tough pill to swallow but that’s how this life is. The infected stumble past, unaware of your presence in the bus, and Joel listens to your breathing, wondering what could’ve been if you had met before all this bullshit.

You sleep better than you have in a long time, groaning softly when you wake up and not wanting to leave the warmth of his body, but you have to. Blinking at him a few times before you give a small smile and lean in to kiss the bare spot on his jaw, a patch where hair refuses to grow. The sunlight is filtering in through the dirty windows and you sigh. “We better get going.” You murmur quickly, pulling away and stumbling to your feet. “I’ve got to get back and so do you.” 

Joel grunts, reluctantly sitting up. This meeting was something that can’t happen again. Letting that emotion come through. He can’t let that weakness ruin him. He has to put the walls back up. “Yeah. I gotta get back.” The infected have passed and he grunts, standing up and he grabs your shoulders to steady you. “You good?” He asks, the rising sun hitting your features in a way to make his heart thump once in his chest.

There’s something on his face that you can’t quite pinpoint, but you nod. “I’m good.” You turn away to pick up your pack and your weapon. “I’ll have Bill play a song the next time we get anything good.” You promise him, just like you always do. “Might be another month or so.” You settle your bag on your back and turn towards him, feeling slightly off kilter but determined to shake it off.

Joel nods, knowing there’s so much unsaid between you but it’s better that way. Attachments are weakness in this new era. Pre outbreak he would’ve asked you for dinner but all he can do now is offer you and a nod while he adjusts his backpack. “Hopefully he picks a good song this time. Tell him I ain’t a fan of Leo Sayer.” He snorts, grabbing his gun.

You chuckle and nod. “Will do.” You promise, opening the door to the bus and climbing down the stairs. “Take care of yourself, Miller.” You tell him as you look around. One last look at him, you memorize the way he looks. “Be seein’ you.”

Joel steps down the stairs of the bus, offering you a nod. He doesn’t know that this is the last time he sees you before he meets Ellie. He winks at you and knows that words don’t mean shit but he says “see ya around.” With that, he stalks off through the trees, gun in hand as he heads back to the QZ, back to find Tess and get what he needs to find Tommy.

[reduxulousoctopus]

Logan: “Whatever Chuck did in there, it worked. I don’t know how he faced that thing. He never loses his cool.” Rogue: “Forget it, hon. In our business, we all get shook up every now and again.” Logan: “I don’t.” — X-Men: The Animated Series, season four, "Proteus"

~4500 words, immediately Post-Episode, Morpherine established relationship, The Most Traumatized Man in the World dealing with the fact that he is now Slightly More Traumatized

If you missed my last fic, Morph has in-universe (he/him) and out-of-universe (they/them) pronouns because I think that's funny.

--

After watching waves crash against the island’s rocky shore for a moment, Logan stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts walking in the direction of the tarmac where they left the Blackbird. He’s ready to go the fuck back to Westchester, find his favorite seat at the bar, and drink until he forgets he even exists. Plenty of ye olde pubs to be found on the mainland, of course, but he’s had more than enough of bonnie Scotland for one day.

Too bad some force out there—be it God, the Devil, or the whims of an uncaring universe—seems dead set against ever letting Logan have what he wants.

“I think the professor’s gonna want to stay a while longer,” Rogue pipes up behind him. “Y’know, to make sure Kevin’s really okay, and to make sure Dr. MacTaggert’s doin’ alright, too. We probably got at least an hour to kill before it’s time to head home.”

Holding back an enraged scream, Logan instead grunts out through gritted teeth, “Uh-huh.”

“Why don’t you pay Morph a visit?” Rogue suggests with a smile. “That might make you feel better. Even if you don’t wanna talk to him about what happened, he always puts you in a good mood.”

Despite her words, Logan’s mood somehow turns even more sour at the thought of seeing Morph again. He crosses his arms and grumbles under his breath, “Morph’s already got more than enough to deal with—he doesn’t need me dumpin’ a load of my garbage on top of everything else.”

Rogue rolls her eyes. “For some reason, Morph actually seems to like your garbage. I already told him you’d come see him before we left. You gonna make a liar outta me, or do I have to throw your sorry butt in through his window?”

How in the hell did Logan end up surrounded by so many females who think they can boss him around? Jean, Storm—even Jubilee’s gotten real bold about demanding rides to the mall.

They’re completely right, of course, but they don’t always have to rub his nose in it.

“I can walk.” Logan gives her a mocking bow. “By your leave, ma’am.”

“Go on, now, get,” Rogue says, nodding her head towards the research center’s entrance. “Surly ol’ polecat. Don’t know how Morph puts up with you.”

Thing is, Logan thinks as he grudgingly makes his way back inside the building, he isn’t so sure Morph wants to put up with him anymore. Three times now, he’s had to watch Morph walk away and not look back, even as Logan called his name.

Kinda hard for a fella not to start taking that personally.

Upon entering the laboratory where the others have gathered, Logan immediately locates the cause of his bad day—across the room, playing some kind of hologram puzzle game with Cassidy, too busy to notice him—before very deliberately looking away and approaching Dr. MacTaggert instead. “Hey, Doc. I’m gonna head upstairs. Unless now’s a bad time…?”

She’s understandably reluctant to tear her eyes away from her son. Even when she manages to meet Logan’s gaze, it takes her a second to actually register what he said.

“Oh! Of course you’ll be wanting to see Morph.” She checks her watch. “He should be nearly done with his morning round of mnemotransience therapy. I’ll call the supervising nurse to let her know you’re on your way.”

Logan frowns, wondering what the fuck ‘nemo-transients’ are, but nods politely when she tells him which room Morph’s in. Not that he needs directions—as usual, Logan opts to trust his nose, letting Morph’s familiar scent lead him through the building, instead. But when he arrives outside the closed door at the end of the trail, something makes him hesitate.

He reaches for the knob. Pauses.

Reaches again, before pivoting on his heel and walking back the way he came.

Stops. Runs his hand through his hair. Returns to the door.

Hesitates again. Growls in frustration.

“Just leave him alone, old man,” Logan mutters to himself. “He’s here to heal.”

Not listen to a whining, yellow-bellied coward like me.

With that bitter self-recrimination, Logan turns away from the door again—only to nearly jump out of his skin when he hears it suddenly open behind him.

“Are you that ‘X-Man’ come to visit Morph?” asks the middle-aged woman with frizzy grey hair and coke-bottle glasses. “Sorry love, Moira called ahead but I only just remembered the door was locked. Must not have heard your knockin’ over my headphones, either. Come on in, love, he’s almost done with his treatment, shouldn't be more than a minute or so.”

Now there’s no chance he can sneak away without word getting back to Morph. Reluctantly, Logan follows the nurse into the room. As soon as he’s through the threshold and he hears the door automatically lock itself behind him, his breath catches and a bolt of sick terror shoots through him, followed quickly by rage.

He hates hospitals, and he really hates laboratories; this room is some hellish combination of both. Sterile metal walls, acrid chemical smells, computers and machinery blinking and blooping with obscure purpose in stalagmite-like clusters rising from the floor. Seeing Morph unconscious on a slab, hooked up to those machines—it makes him want to break things. His pulse is a war-drum in his ears.

This can’t actually be helping Morph get better. They’re hurting him, experimenting on him maybe. Ripping him apart to learn how his shapeshifting powers work. Maybe that’s how MacTaggert figured out how to make her son look normal, because that’s all humans ever want from mutants: to use them, or make them normal.

His claws itch at the underside of his skin. He’s gotta get Morph out of here, run away as far and fast as they can because if they can’t trust MacTaggert then they can’t trust Xavier then they can’t trust the X-Men—

Logan closes his eyes. His thoughts are spiraling in on themselves like a dog chasing its tail; he grabs that dog by the chain and forces it to heel. Maybe he can’t trust MacTaggert—the fact she managed to hide her mutant son from Xavier all these years proves she’s good at keeping secrets, who knows what other skeletons may be hanging in that woman’s closet?—but he damn well knows by now that he can trust Xavier and the X-Men. There’s no point in speculating to the contrary. May as well start doubting that the sun will rise or the tides will turn; may as well send himself to the funny-farm, too, while he’s at it.

“You can sit in that chair while you wait, love,” the nurse says suddenly. Logan’s body jerks in surprise as his eyes snap open. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, already taking her own seat behind a desk not far from the door and picking up a well-worn paperback romance novel. “That one there, by the window.”

“Thanks,” Logan grunts.

The nurse puts on her headphones and presses the play button on her portable tape-player. Logan blinks as his acute hearing picks up shredding guitars, crashing drums, and guttural, growling vocals.

He would not have guessed from looking that she was a metal fan.

Although he moves towards the window the nurse mentioned, Logan doesn’t sit down in the squashy-looking armchair. Instead, he slides the window open and just stands there a while, breathing deeply. No ocean-view this side, but he can smell the brine and feel the cold wind against his face. He can hear crashing waves.

He can still smell Morph, too, which is always a balm—even if he can’t bear to look at him while he’s hooked up to those machines. He can hear his heartbeat and his calm, soft breaths.

Eventually, the room stops feeling quite so much like a trap snapping shut around him.

Morph trusts Dr. MacTaggert. Trusts this place, even if it makes Logan’s skin crawl. He clearly feels safe enough to recover here. Safer than he felt at the mansion, apparently.

Safer than he felt under Logan’s protection.

Some ‘protection.’ Not even one whole day back and I let him go up against Sentinels again.

Yet even when confronted by his worst fear, Morph ran in literally guns-blazing and faced an entire squad of Sentinels almost single-handed to save the team. A true X-Man, through and through.

And what does that make me? Just the guy that turns tail and runs while his friends are in danger, all because he let himself get spooked by a snot-nosed teenager with daddy-issues.

Logan hasn’t forgiven Morph for leaving again—hell, he might even hate him a little—but he’s still so proud of him. That pride only deepens his own shame.

Bamboo and steel, like Master Oku used to say. Guys like Morph, like Xavier and Beast and Nightcrawler, too: they’re bamboo. Strong enough to bend, able to grow back when cut down. For all that Logan’s bones are plated in adamantium, as often as he’s tried to change his nature, he knows he’s made of steel. Tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. And if even one crack appears—he breaks.

Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Something beeps on the console by Morph’s bed. Eerily, he seems to instantly snap from asleep to fully alert, like he isn’t so much waking up as activating. His eyes open and he takes a single, sharp breath, which he holds for a moment before releasing it in a sigh.

Logan crosses his arms and leans back against the window-sill, content to watch that long, lean body stretch and those pretty brown eyes flutter.

When Morph eventually sees him standing there, to Logan’s relief, he smiles. That’s gotta count for something. “Hiya, Logan…”

“Hey, kid,” he says softly.

I miss you.

I hate you.

Something terrible happened.

Come home.

I don’t know how to be afraid. I don’t know how to bend.

I don’t deserve you.

“Nice helmet,” Logan says. “You look ridiculous.”

Morph laughs as he sits up and starts to remove the strange device strapped to his head. “You think this helmet looks ridiculous, you should have seen my first and only attempt to design my own costume. There’s a reason why I opted to go with the generic uniform, instead.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta see it. You can’t say that and not show me.”

“And lose what little respect for me you have left? No thanks.” After setting the odd helmet down on the side-table, Morph taps it with his finger. “This is a new thing we’re trying out. Moira says it might help make my nightmares and flashbacks less intense.”

Logan nods like he knows anything about anything. “Nemo-transients therapy, right.”

Morph laughs again. “Right.”

“What’s it do?”

“No idea. Moira tried to explain the science but there were a few too many five-dollar words,” Morph admits. “Basically, it’s meant to make some of my bad memories fade away a little over time, the way the memories of other people do.”

“That perfect recall of yours givin’ you trouble?” Logan guesses with a regretful sigh. It’s a necessary side-effect of Morph’s powers. He can just glance at someone and remember every single detail of their appearance; listen to a brief recording of a voice and replicate it flawlessly; watch anyone perform a physical skill, from a martial arts maneuver to a complicated dance-step, and immediately add it to his own repertoire.

He could probably tell you how many rivets were used to construct the Sentinels that killed him. Or remember the exact moment—month, day, hour, minute, and second—when he realized that no one was coming to rescue him from Mister Sinister; that the X-Men, his friends, the people he trusted most in the world, really had left him for dead.

“On the bright side, I never had to study back when I was in school. You win some, you lose some.”

“Morph…” Logan uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards the bed, but stops himself from getting any closer. Although the nurse is thoroughly distracted by her kissing book and her metal music, she could glance up at any moment. Besides, there’s a security camera looming in the corner of the ceiling, pointed directly at them.

As much as Logan might want Morph to come home, he won’t do it by making this place unsafe for him, should someone at the research center react poorly to seeing two men be a little too affectionate with each other. His hands fall uselessly to his sides.

“I can’t say I like the idea of you lettin’ people tamper with your memories,” Logan admits after a moment.

“It doesn’t erase anything. Just sorta gives me a little breathing room, so the other therapies actually have a chance to stick. That’s all,” Morph assures him. When Logan still looks unconvinced, he adds, “The professor helped design it, if that makes you feel any better.”

It does, actually. Logan can’t understand any of this modern, high-tech psychology mumbo-jumbo. Back in his day, when a fella got a case of shell-shock, the brass would just put a gun in his hands and shove him back in the fight. If Xavier and Morph both agree that this is the best way to help Morph get better, who is Logan to question it?

“I don’t know how much longer we’ve got before it’s time to catch my ride back to Westchester,” Logan says.

“Oh.” Morph shoots him a knowing smile and a wink. “I get you.”

Well. That wasn’t what Logan was getting at, but he definitely isn’t going to say no…

Morph yawns and stretches again. This time, there’s nothing innocent in the arch of that spine or the flex of those lean muscles. “Goodness, these sessions sure take it out of me.”

“How ‘bout I walk you to your room,” Logan offers.

“Thanks, Logan,” Morph says with a shameless grin. “You’re a good pal, y’know that?”

As they walk towards the exit, Morph pauses to drum his fingertips across the nurse’s desk. She jumps and removes her headphones with a slightly guilty-looking smile. “All done, then, love? How was the session?”

“Good. How are Fae and Tavish?” Morph asks. After a moment of confusion, Logan realizes those must be the names of the woman with the heaving bosom and the oiled-up, tartan-clad highlander and on the cover of the nurse’s romance novel. “Have they sorted out that little misunderstanding at the clanmeet yet?”

“Aye, things are finally heating up again,” the nurse replies with a grin. “So if you wouldn’t mind maybe holding off telling Moira you’re done with your session, that’d be grand.”

Morph literally zips his lips shut. After Logan and the nurse have a good laugh, he unzips to say, “Don’t work too hard, Doreen.”

“You know I’m in no danger of that, love!” she calls after him as they leave the room.

Although the two of them don’t speak as Morph leads Logan through the halls of the research center, their eyes keep meeting as anticipation builds. It’s been too long—even longer, if you don’t count that cramped, awkward quickie in the mini-jet en route between Morph’s welcome home party and the trashed polymer factory.

When they arrive at Morph’s guest room, Logan doesn’t have long to re-familiarize himself with the scenery. The door is barely shut and locked behind him before Morph slams him up against it with enough force to rattle the hinges. Logan growls appreciatively around the tongue in his mouth and slides his hands down Morph’s back to grab his ass.

There’s surely no better cure for what ails him.

–

Glaring up at the ceiling several minutes later, Logan thinks he’s going to kill someone. Possibly himself.

“It… it’s fine, Logan. Really.”

“Shut up,” Logan snaps. He flops back against the scratchy hospital sheets covering Morph’s bed and hides his eyes in the crook of his arm.

“Everybody has trouble, uh, performing sometimes,” Morph insists. “Especially older—er, I mean—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Morph sighs and turns away, looking frustrated, worried, and worst of all, guilty. That last one breaks Logan’s heart a little. This sure as hell isn’t Morph’s fault. He doesn’t deserve Logan’s anger.

Too bad anger is just about all he ever has to offer.

“I should go,” Logan says, wishing he’d stuck to his guns and stayed away instead of letting Rogue bully him. He’s no good for Morph like this.

Not enough of a man to stand and fight. Not enough of a man to fuck. What good am I for anyone?

Logan stops in the middle of looking for his clothes to shut his eyes, clench his trembling fists, and wait for the wave of rage to pass over him before resuming his search.

“Oh… okay,” Morph says. Logan can’t bear to look at him. He has his jeans buttoned and is in the middle of shrugging on his flannel shirt when Morph asks, “How’d the mission go, by the way?”

A pure, wimpering-animal dread creeps into his chest. Morph keeps talking—Logan hears Rogue’s name, and the phrase ‘made of glass’—but nothing else sinks in. His stomach turns. Sweat beads on his brow. Although he can feel air rushing in and out of his lungs, he can’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Logan snaps. He can barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. “Thought you turned your back on that life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morph demands. “Of course I care—you’re still my friends, I’m still an X-Man! Do you think I wanted to leave?”

“I… I don’t know why I said that,” Logan lies. His vision blurs, but he can still see his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes as hard as he can. They have to be playing tricks on him. He’d be able to smell that monster coming.

Right?

“Besides, I didn’t turn my back on you! You turned your back on me, left me to—” There’s a soft thud behind him as Morph punches the mattress. “No… no, that’s not true. Especially not about you. You did more than anybody to… But don’t you see? That’s why I had to leave! I’m no good for the team like this. I thought you understood that.”

Logan nods, although gun-to-his-head, he couldn’t say what he’s agreeing to. He stands up and staggers a few steps away from the bed on legs that feel like jelly. He needs… he needs… to button his shirt. Find his boots.

Grab your gun and head back out there, soldier. The war ain’t over just because you’re scared.

“Logan…?”

“What?!” Why can’t he find his fucking boots? Why can’t he see anything besides his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag.

“Why are your claws out?”

Logan blinks. Looks down at his hands.

His claws hiss back at him like angry snakes.

He retracts them, feels them squirm all the way back up into his arms, alien and repulsive in a way they haven’t felt since they were brand-new.

He blinks again, and suddenly Morph is standing in front of him, between Logan and the door. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Logan should be the one closest to the door. When that monster comes in here—

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Morph says. He offers a smile completely devoid of amusement or joy. “And I’m heading that way, too, so lets see if all these boring counseling sessions I’ve had to sit through are worth the time I could have spent watching TV.”

Closely observing Logan to gauge his reaction, Morph takes his hand and guides it to his bare chest. His heartbeat is a little too fast, his breaths shaky and hitched. Holding Logan’s hand in place, Morph takes as slow and steady an inhale as he can manage, holds it for a few seconds, then releases a sighing exhale. Again and again. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Although Logan doesn’t mean to join in the breathing exercises, he finds himself subconsciously matching Morph’s pace.

Over the course of what somehow feels both like several hours and no time at all, Morph’s heartbeat gradually slows to something approaching normal. As it does, the worst of Logan’s terror fades, leaving him exhausted, angry, and embarrassed in its absence.

The monster—the kid is still downstairs with his mother, Cassidy, Beast, and Xavier. The only thing tormenting him is a few bad memories.

“Sit down,” Morph says, pushing him a few steps backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Logan doesn’t sit so much as collapse. His muscles twitch uselessly with unspent adrenaline. “Easy, big guy. A panic attack can really take it out of you. Believe me, I know.”

“You take it easy,” Logan snaps without any heat. “I don’t get panic attacks.”

“Uh-huh,” Morph says dryly, not buying what Logan’s selling even at a discount. Standing between Logan’s spread knees, Morph reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. Logan nearly growls at him—until he feels blunt fingernails scratch over his scalp just right. All the fight bleeds out of him until he can only slump forward and rest his sweaty forehead against Morph’s belly.

While he continues to play with Logan’s hair, Morph speaks again: “You and I aren’t great at this mushy stuff. And I know you too well to bother asking if you want to talk about what’s wrong.”

Logan shakes his head.

“Just… know that if you did want to talk, I’d listen. Okay? I know what it’s like to go through this stuff, and I know it feels like you have to tough it out alone, but—”

“You don’t.”

Morph’s hands go still. “…What’s that?”

“You said you know what it’s like. But you don’t,” Logan repeats, gritting his teeth, “because nothing happened to me.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” Morph asks, taking a step back so he can look Logan in the eye. “Wait, so this isn’t about Weapon X, or Sabretooth and Fox, or—”

Of course Morph would assume that, because that might actually make some goddamn sense, but no. Some of the worst things that ever happened to him, yet they only ever made him tougher and stronger and angrier. Instead, it’s a kid throwing a temper tantrum that finally managed to break the Wolverine.

—he’s falling apart, weeping at the feet of a stranger he nearly killed, begging her for answers she can’t give him. Why did they do this?—

—pretty brown eyes stare up at him, brutalized and afraid. What’s the matter, punk? Can’t take care of your woman?—

—he sees his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. Where are you, Logan? Wolverine!—

“I ran away during the mission,” Logan snarls. There it is, the ugly truth.

A long, terrible silence hangs between them, until—

“Oh.”

Logan cringes and looks away like a scolded hound. Shame burns acidic in the back of his throat.

After a moment, Morph moves to sit next to him on the bed. Logan watches out of the corner of his eye as he leans forward, braces his elbows on his knees, picks at his hands.

Then, to his dismay… Morph quietly chuckles.

—high, mocking laughter echoes through the dark jungle. Who could ever love a freak like you?—

“Funny,” Morph remarks. Unlike the corrupted thing he became under Sinister’s control, there’s no sign of cruelty in his voice, his face, his pretty brown eyes. “I used to think you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“I’m not,” Logan insists, before amending: “I shouldn’t be.”

“Why? Is it so terrible to find out that you’re just as human—er, so to speak—as the rest of us?”

Logan frowns down at the floor between his bare feet.

“Or was all that stuff you told me after the Sentinels came back just bullshit to make me feel better?”

His gaze snaps up to meet Morph’s cold, flat stare. “It’s not the same.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because…” Logan starts, and then doesn’t know how to finish.

Morph, the absolute bastard, smirks like he’s already won the argument. “So you ran away. So what? Did you come right here, afterwards?”

“No,” Logan growls.

“In the time it took you to turn around and get back to the mission, was anyone killed or maimed?”

“The professor fell in a pit of fire.” Morph’s eyes go wide, which is a little gratifying at least. All the more unfortunate that Logan has to tack on a reluctant, “Dr. MacTaggert and I caught him.”

“Jesus… Don’t scare me like that, you asshole. Okay, you almost let Xavier fall in a pit of fire; I almost let Xavier’s brain get stolen by Sentinels,” Morph says with a shrug. “We’re as bad as each other. Anything negative you have to say about yourself, you may as well say about me, too.”

It’s a tidy little trap Morph’s caught him in, without a doubt. Hell of a catch, that catch-22.

“Alright, put it away,” Logan grumbles, and covers Morph’s entire smug, cackling face with one hand.

“What, my dick?” Morph asks, muffled against Logan’s palm. “Talking about some guy’s emotions while my whole hog is out. I feel like I’m in a student film.”

Logan laughs. “You coulda changed that at any point, shapeshifter.”

“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” Despite his words, Morph shifts back into his uniform as he rises from the bed. “Alright, no bars on the island, but there’s probably a boat somewhere we could steal. Or I can turn into a whale and swim you across to the mainland.”

“Can’t,” Logan says regretfully, shaking his head. “My ride home is leavin’ soon.”

“I’ll buy you a plane ticket. Even better, I’ll pull a guilt-trip on Scott that'd put a Jewish grandmother to shame, get him to come visit me tomorrow, and you can fly back with him after. In the meantime, we’ll rent a hotel room for the night and see if Little Logan has recovered from his stage-fright.”

Logan chuckles. Seeing Morph play Summers like a fiddle would be worth the price of admission alone; that he’d be doing it so Logan can play hooky and drink beer and have sex is just gravy. Still, he can’t help but ask: “You sure it’s a good idea for you to leave?”

“I don’t imagine we’ll see Mister Sinister or any Sentinels having a pint down the pub in a random seaside village in Scotland,” Morph says with a laugh. “What about you? Any chance we’ll run into whatever freaked you out?”

Logan thinks of young Kevin MacTaggert, happy and safe with his mother and Xavier—the man who’s been a better father to him in the past two days than Joe MacTaggert has for the boy’s entire life. In a strange way, maybe that makes the kid a bit of an X-Man, too. “I’ll take my chances.”

Morph grins as he pulls Logan to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Logan’s hand right away, almost absentmindedly stroking the thick, rough callouses, the knots of scar tissue, the bulky pugilist’s knuckles.

Steel is tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Luckily, for all that Logan’s bones are plated in metal, he isn’t made of steel. Flesh bleeds, flesh breaks; then it heals and grows back stronger.

Logan is pretty damn good at healing.

[here2bbtstrash]

Can you write a drabble with bestfriend yoongi finding out you have a spit kink and makes fun of you but turns out he’s into it too and … yea 🤭

anon i gotta give you props for so patiently playing the waiting game. i literally saved this req from the last time you sent it bc i really WANTED to do it but it took a lotta brain power 😂 had to have a whole brainstorming session

also shoutout to seokjin for making this relevant!!

still accepting freaky requests, lmk what ya wanna see!!

pairing: yoongi x reader word count: 1.1k contains: spit kink, erotic watermelon eating 🥴, i promise there's no actual food play tho, friends to lovers ig, tiny bit of praise kink

“Eat.” Yoongi sets the plate of fruit and bowl down in front of you, and panic instantly rockets through your nervous system.

“I-I don’t like watermelon,” you say before immediately realizing that isn’t going to solve your problem. The issue isn’t whether or not you eat it.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi says decisively as he squints at you. He can clearly tell you are acting strange. “Everyone likes watermelon.”

“Are you questioning my taste in fruit?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes. “Well, I have about ten pounds of it, courtesy of Jin. Help me eat it or don’t. I don’t give a shit.” The silver bracelets on his wrist jangle as he reaches for a slice. You make a mental note to kill Seokjin the next time you see him.

Frozen in place, you can only watch helplessly as Yoongi takes a bite, pink fruit melting quickly under lips and teeth. His jaw works for a second, and then he brings the bowl up to his chin and spits three seeds out in quick succession.

Fuck.

“This one does have a lot of seeds,” he mutters mostly to himself, frowning into the bowl.

Of fucking course it does.

He suddenly seems to become aware of your eyes on him, because he looks up at you, brows furrowing together with agitation. “What is this, a fucking mukbang? Will you put on the damn show?”

Right. Extraordinary Attorney Woo. He specifically invited you over to get caught up on the latest episodes. Not to stare at him while he eats fruit.

You fumble for the remote, trying not to look as flustered as you feel, and clearly fail, because you can hear Yoongi laughing around another mouthful. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

“Leave me alone.”

You manage to divert enough brain cells from thinking about your best friend’s mouth to remember how to pull up Netflix.

The show starts, and you sink back against the couch, extremely grateful for the distraction.

Except it doesn’t work. You are unfortunately laser-focused on Yoongi as he reaches for another slice, and the first bite is accompanied with a gratuitous sucking sound as he attempts to keep the juice in his mouth.

He’s not quite successful, and when a few drops roll down his chin, you’re hit with the nearly overwhelming desire to lick them up.

“You can literally have some if you want it,” he talks with his mouth full, wiping the back of his hand over his neck. You know he’s talking about the watermelon, but there’s already a steady pulse between your legs at the other opportunity that sentence offers you.

He picks up the bowl again to spit into it, having to try a few times to get all the seeds out of his mouth, and you’re not going to make it. Especially not when he reaches for a third slice and makes a low hum of appreciation at the first bite. The noise thrums through you, so intense you swear you’re vibrating.

Yoongi’s eyes catch yours, and when he sees you’re still watching him intently, he’s clearly had enough.

“Alright,” he says mid-chew, picking up the remote to pause the show and then slamming it back down. “If I’m that fucking gross, you can just go home.”

“Not gross,” you correct quickly, before you can decide whether or not it’s a good idea.

Yoongi looks entirely confused, but he must finally be able to read the expression on your face, see the way you go slack-jawed when he pulls the bowl up to his mouth and spits into it a third time.

“So, what, you have a watermelon fetish?”

“Not watermelon,” you say softly.

His gaze jumps from your face to the bowl and back, and he seems to finally put the pieces together.

“Oh my god, are you one of those ‘spit in my mouth, daddy’ girls?”

An embarrassed heat shoots up your neck, and you can only nod.

“That’s fucking freaky,” he laughs, enough that his shoulders shake. “I can’t believe I never knew this.” Your brain thinks to tell him that you don’t appreciate being kink-shamed, and then his next words make you forget how to string a sentence together, or even what words are.

“Open your mouth, then.”

Without hesitation, you do as you're told. It’s impossible to miss the smug expression on Yoongi’s face as he gets to his knees and moves towards you.

“So eager. You want it that bad?”

Your tongue lolls out as you nod, and you inhale sharply when his hand comes to grab your face and hold it in place, silver rings digging into your skin in a way that sends sparks through you.

“Then I want you to take it like a good girl, okay?”

You couldn’t suppress the strangled noise that sentence works out of your open mouth if you tried. Yoongi’s eyes glint– he’s clearly enjoying this power. The strong muscle of his jaw flexes, and then he leans down to spit into your waiting mouth. It’s too damn hot for you to stop the desperate whine that follows.

“Want more?”

When you whimper again, Yoongi seems satisfied with the response. He sits up a little taller on his knees, and you can see his tongue moving behind closed lips. There’s more saliva this time– a lot more; he lets it fall slowly out of his mouth, off of his tongue, feeding it to you one drop at a time, so slow it’s nearly torture. You squeeze your eyes shut and your thighs together at the same time, your hips just barely starting to rock, in desperate need of friction.

You hear and feel it as he spits a third time, fast and aggressive now, so fucking dirty that a shiver rips up your spine.

Yoongi’s fingers brush over your jaw, and you take the encouragement to close your mouth and swallow.

“Good girl.” His voice is dark with lust, and you instantly need more. Eyes still closed, you drop your mouth open again in a silent request.

It takes you by surprise when his tongue meets yours instead, and you can’t help but outright moan as he licks into your mouth, tasting sweet and heady. You find his body under your hands, fingers moving to tangle in the long dark hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the low groan you pull out of him when you tug gently, the way his lips close around your tongue and suck.

His hands are already fumbling for the button of your jeans, and you’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss momentarily to better see what he’s doing.

“Fuck, how about I spit on your clit next?”

You don’t expect to survive the evening.

[mvrtaiswriting]

Run your mouth x Armin Artlert. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

this is a revisited (and better) version of my old work. enjoy!

gender neutral reader. pronoun "they" used.

warnings: angst (it ends well), suggestive, intoxication (weed). alternative au

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

“Why didn’t you not say anything?!”

“You need to stop letting people speak to you like that, Armin. God, even one of Connie’s ‘yo mama’ type of joke would have been a more decent comeback!”

Those words rolled down your tongue before you could realise it, planting one dagger after the other right where Armin was hurting the most. Yet, Armin's gaze escaped yours one more time that day, looking at everything else but you. Letting himself crash against the sofa of his living room, he finally sighed.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Armin finally spit out, biting his bottom lip. Another sigh escaped his lips as you watched him run his fingers through his hair, a few blonde strands falling over his forehead. All he wanted to do was leaving everything that happened behind and avoid another conflict. Specially with you.

“Fine.”

Was all you managed to say, rushing towards the door and putting your jacket on. The warmth on your cheeks was getting harder to ignore and you just couldn't allow yourself to lash out at Armin again. Maybe Armin didn't care - maybe he was able to leave it all behind. But you weren't, and if those words didn't hurt him, they definitely hurt you. There was nothing in this word that could justify his complete lack of reaction, the complete silence you were met with every time you tried to talk things through.

After all, this was a tale as old as time. Since you had known him, you had seen him react. Not when Bertholdt took his book out of his hands and set fire to him when you were in middle school, not when Annie almost punched him but you intervened instead - ending up in a fight and then in an hospital room with 5 stitches on your chin as a consequence. The two of you had met in primary school, when you were still taller than him and his hair was longer than yours - and you always took care of one another. The memory of Armin's little finger putting a plaster on your scarred knee on the playground was still vivid in your mind - you've never parted way since.

It was so hard now to grasp onto this dear memories. All you could see was a grown man not standing up for himself, a true believer of always being the biggest person instead of flipping someone off - even if that meant overlooking the worst episodes of one's life. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins from earlier on that morning, that pervasive sense of frustration still all over you as if you had to fight back, as if you were the one who was insulted. You were fuming - you were mad at him for being so passive about life, you were mad at the world for being so disgustingly cruel.

Armin’s blue eyes remained locked on you the whole time, meticulously following your movements as you roamed through the room to pick up your things. You were gone before he could say something, before he could swallow the lump in his throat and actually come up with something that would make you stay. Yet, before he could come up with something, you stormed out of his apartment, neither of you speaking one more word. It was only when he realised you were distant enough that Armin finally let himself go, a frustrated scream finally making its way out, emptying his lungs and lifting an heavy weight from his shoulders.

There were so many things Armin should have said - maybe he should have thanked you for standing up for him, for always stepping up even if it didn't matter, even if he didn't deserve it. He knew you could see right through him; he knew that you could how much all the hatred collected through the years had cracked his seemingly unbreakable shield - you knew there was hurt underneath his shell of indifference.

Maybe he should have told you that he hated himself for all those times he had put you in danger, by allowing you to step up - or maybe he should have just told you that he was working on his avoidant tendencies. Maybe, just maybe, he should have confronted you and tell you that yes, he hated being involved in stupid arguments but he would turn the world upside down for you.

-

When Jean asked him to come over, Armin didn’t think about it twice: he really needed an excuse to shut down his brain.

The familiar, stinging smell of weed, typical of Jean's and Connie's apartment tingled Armin's nose even before knocking on his friend's door. Jean was quick to open the door, leading Armin to the living room where the rest of the group had already started their session.

Sitting on the floor, Armin took place next to Eren. Despite Jean's invite to a 'boys-only' night, Armin couldn't help but quickly scan the room, hoping to find you there. There was radio-silence between the two of you - and he hated it. Quickly reaching his pockets, Armin grabbed his phone and scrolled quickly through his notifications - not a call, not a text. Not from you at least.

“Someone told me you had a rough day.”

Eren's raspy voice called Armin back to reality. Armin only nodded in response, before his friend passed him the already light up joint he was holding in his hands.

“Are they okay?”

Armin asked, taking a long drag from the joint between his long fingers and leaning his body against the sofa, shoulders and head resting on the seating’s pillow. As he breathed the smoke in, Armin realised you must have talked to Mikasa about what happened.

Eren nodded silently, knowing well enough how worried Armin was for you.

“They’re with Sasha and Mikasa, they’ll join us later.”

Eren added, only receiving a weak nod from Armin in response.

Riding off the slowly building up high, Armin let his mind wonder. How could he be stupid enough to let you walk away? Was he testing his luck even further? How hard could it be to realise the luck that he must have had during all those years - in which you never left his side. Always showering him with love, and care, and so much affection - and all he managed to was being a damsel in distress. Never man enough to stand up for himself, or for you. How could he even dare to dream of you, how could he even bring himself to think you could love him the way he loved you - and deserve it. If love was to be earned, Armin wasn't sure if he'd ever deserve yours.

Armin finished his joint without even realising it, smashing its remains against the ashtray as he slowly started to feel his body become lighter and his mind quieter, highness rushing over his body as he finally felt calm for the first time that day. The rest of his friends were a mess, Connie laughing his lungs out while having meaningless conversation with Jean. He enjoyed the peaceful chaos of the moment, finding himself laughing at one of Connie’s ‘deez nuts’ jokes without even realising it.

When you finally arrived at Jean's apartment, followed by Sasha and Mikasa, Armin had already smoked one more joint with Connie - yet, this didn't hinder his senses. Simply hearing you greet the rest of the group made him sit up straight, his eyes quickly scanning the room hoping to catch a glimpse of you. When you finally entered his visual field, he couldn't help but stare for a moment. Locking his blue eyes on you, he looked at you in religious silent as he observed every movement your body made. Not a word left his lips - he couldn't bring himself to say a word. A wave of unexpected emotions had rushed over him and all he could do was admire you, finally being able to maintain eye contact with you for the first time that day.

Letting out a big sigh, you were quick to notice the state Armin was in. His eyes were half-lidded, the blue of his iris emphasised by the redness of the rest of his eyes. You slowly kneed next to him, scanning his face looking for any trace of lucidity.

"You're beautiful."

Armin finally spoke. Your faces were only a few centimetres apart while you made sure he was okay, so close to him he could feel your warm breath tickling the skin of his face.

"Shut up."

Was all that you said as a soft smile adorned your lips, finally sitting next to him. Even when sitting down, he still managed to be a little taller than you. You let your head rest on his shoulder, and he instinctively adjusted himself to ensure you were comfortable enough.

"I mean it. and.."

Armin paused, taking a deep breath. He wasn't lucid, but he wasn't absent-minded either. He just was high enough to have the courage to speak up about his feelings.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

You replied, letting out a sigh. Snuggling closer to Armin, you guided Armin's arm around you, engulfing yourself into his embrace. Armin was quick to tighten the grip on you, letting his long fingers reach your hips and holding you tighter.

"I wish I was a better man."

Armin spoke again. His words felt sharper than ever this time, piercing right through you. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel as if he wasn't enough - all your life you tried to make him understand his worth.

"You're the best man I know."

You replied, making Armin giggle. Your replies were always quicker than his, always sharper - and he loved that. Armin watched as you reached for his hand, playing with his fingers. Snuggling closer to him, you let your head rest on the crook of his neck - your breathing gently itching his soft spot, constantly sending shivers down his spine. Armin remained silent for a while - he was feeling your body in ways he had only dreamt of, his senses being completely overwhelmed. Yet, it was your words that echoed in his head - was he hallucinating? Are these words that every friend would say to another?

Shifting from your position to sit down properly and take a hit from the joint Connie passed you, Armin was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, trapping you in his embrace once again. Your back was now resting against his chest, your bodies perfectly fitting together like a puzzle-piece. That was the quickest reflex Armin has ever had in his life. Where were you going? He didn't want you to leave his arms. Not tonight. Not ever.

Laughing at his reaction, you allowed him to hold you closer, melting under his touch. His hands wondered down your hips again and every stupid fibre of your body ached for more, your skin almost burning every time Armin's fingers grazed you, even by accident. If only Armin had known about this - about all the times your mind went dumb at the sole idea of him touching you. If only Armin knew how much you loved him, and cared for him. If only Armin knew the only reason you were so mad at him was his blindness to the way you ached for him, realising just how wonderful he was.

Taking the joint from Connie, you were quick to take a hit. Armin's eyes were once again fixed on you, as he watched the way your lips wrapped around the joint's filter - dying to have a taste of them. Armin shook his head, trying to think straight - but he just couldn't. The higher he got, the more the thought of you crowded his mind. Your lips had him so obviously hypnotised, making his mind wonder off again; flashback of you kissing when you were 12 because you wanted to be each other's first kiss was everything he could think of. The way it felt, the softness of your lips, the sweet innocence of a typical, awkward first kiss. Too many times he had asked himself how would it feel to kiss you now that the innocence was gone, now that he touched himself under the shower just thinking of you.

Worried about Armin's sudden silence, you shook his shoulder only lightly, in hope to get him back to reality.

"Are you okay? Wanna hit?" Armin looked at you for a second, processing your question and analysing the scene he was watching. You were standing only a few centimetres away from his face once again, your lips were burning red because of the heated filter you smoked from. His heart was beating quickly and suddenly that was all he could hear. Flashback of you kissing running through his mind once again, the dirtiest scenarios he imagined you in flooding his mind and running just before his eyes.

"Fuck that."

Armin said, before grabbing your waist and pulling you into a desperate, passionate kiss. His grip felt unusually strong and firm on your skin, his touch loosing its usual kindness as he locked his lips on yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, desperate to have a taste of you. Although surprised at first, you were quick to reciprocate the kiss, letting your hand reach his jaw and almost pulling him on top of you.

Jean and Eren cheered for Armin, echoing some stupid choirs as the two of you ended up making out on the floor. Breaking the kiss due to a shortness of breath, you rested your forehead against Armin's. Staring at you, he left a soft kiss on the tip of your nose praying you won't notice the redness of his cheeks.

"Damn it Artlert.."

"So you do know how to run your mouth, uh?" you teased, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

"I have a few more tricks I can show you."

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Pt. 9

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 9

Summary: This part takes place during the episode It’s A Terrible Life.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other canon characters and original characters

Word Count: 3,013

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 8 here.

You pad across the living room of the penthouse apartment, enjoying the morning’s peace before having to wake up Katherine. Looking down at the city, your hand comes to rest on your stomach. You weren’t obviously showing yet, there was only a tiny bump under your hand. Two arms come around your waist and a pair of lips find your cheek.

“Morning, Mrs. Smith,” Dean mumbles against your skin. You laugh lightly and run your hand over his arm.

“We’ve been married for 10 years, Dean. Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?” You ask. His nose brushes against your cheek.

“Are you tired of hearing it?” He asks. Smiling, you look over your shoulder at him and shake your head.

“Never,” you tell him. He smiles and presses his lips against yours. Turning in his arms, your own lay across his shoulders. He pulls away and his eyes narrow.

“You had coffee, didn’t you?” He asks. You bite your lip and he sighs. “I thought we agreed no more caffeine while you’re pregnant.”

“You suggested it, I vetoed,” you tell him. He shakes his head, unamused.

“I just want you both healthy,” he says. You roll your eyes and kiss his nose quickly.

“And one cup of coffee in the morning isn’t going to hurt either of us,” you say, taking his hands and pulling him into the kitchen. Dropping his hands, you move to the refrigerator and pull his lunch out.

“What are your plans for the day?” Dean asks, pouring coffee into his travel mug. You set his lunch on the counter then get the eggs out to start your daughter’s breakfast.

“Well after I drop Katherine off I have my first pregnant yoga class,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“That’s a thing?” He asks. You laugh lightly and nod, cracking a few eggs into the pan.

“Apparently. Bridget signed me up for it last week. Said it did wonders for her when she was pregnant with Destiny,” you say. Dean nods, watching you. “Then we’re going shopping cause Bridget needs a new dress for that charity ball thing they’re hosting this weekend.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand Bridget,” he says before taking a sip from his mug. You sigh and nod.

“I can’t. She’s a spoiled little princess but she’s going through this nasty divorce and she doesn’t have anyone else,” you tell him. He smiles, pushing off of the counter he’d been leaning against.

“You’re such a saint,” he says, walking over and kissing your cheek. “I gotta go. I’ll see all three of you tonight.” His hand comes to rest on your stomach and you smile at him softly, nodding. You lean in and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” you tell him. He picks up his lunch before kissing you one last time.

“I love you too,” he says. You smile and watch him as he rushes out the door before returning your attention to the eggs.

At 7:45 you drop Katherine off at the front door of her prestigious private school then drive across town to the little yoga studio. After an hour-long class, you meet Bridget for brunch before the two of you hit the most expensive store in town. By lunch, she still hasn’t found anything and insists on continuing after you eat. 2:30 rolls around and you’re ready to either pull your own hair out strand by strand or snap her neck, you haven’t decided. You finally manage to convince her that the green one with the dropped waist does not make her look like an avocado and the two of you leave. You just manage to get to the school in time to pick Katherine up. You get her home and settled in with her tutor before you start making dinner. At 5:00 on the dot your cell phone rings.

“Hello,” you say, sticking it between your ear and shoulder as you stir the pot on the stove.

“Hi, Darling,” Dean’s voice says over the line. You frown quickly. He only called you darling when he had bad news.

“You’re staying late again, aren’t you?” You ask, hanging your head.

“I’m sorry. Something’s come up and I don’t know when I’ll be in tonight,” he tells you quickly. You glance over your shoulder at your daughter and sigh.

“She hasn’t seen you in three days, Dean. You live in the same apartment and you haven’t even seen each other. Do you realize how sad that is?” You ask, your voice dropping low.

“Can we not have this fight again?” He asks with a sigh. You bite your lip, watching the water in the pot boil.

“You aren’t having an affair, are you?” You ask. Your voice is thick with the tears you’re trying to hold back.

“Hey, hey. Whoa. Not even close. You know me better than that. You’re the only girl for me, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’ve got a special project that came up at the last minute. I’m staying with a co-worker, Sam Wesson. He works in our technical support department. I will try my best to be home in time to tuck Katherine in and spend a few hours fixing whatever made you ask such an insane question.” You wipe at your cheeks quickly and nod.

“I’m sorry. Hormones and I spent the whole day listening to Bridget talk about her divorce. Her husband was having an affair with his secretary,” you tell him. He chuckles.

“Well you’ve met Janice and, as lovely as she is, I don’t think she’d be willing to throw away a 40-year marriage, three kids, and five grandkids just for me,” he says. You laugh lightly and return to stirring the pot in front of you.

“I think you underestimate yourself,” you tease. He laughs now then sighs.

“Alright. I gotta get back to work. I love you. I love Katherine. I love the baby,” he says. You smile and glance back at Katherine, reading her book.

“We all love you too,” you tell him. Dean hangs up and you sigh, setting the phone aside. Katherine looks up at you now and frowns.

“He won’t be home again tonight, will he?” She asks. You frown too and shake your head.

“He said he’s gonna try and make it back in time to tuck you in,” you tell her. She nods, unconvinced, and looks over out the window.

“Can we go to Grandpa Bobby and Grandma Ellen’s this weekend?” She asks. You smile as you walk over and plant a kiss on top of her head.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight,” you say. She smiles up at you widely. “Now go wash up for dinner.”

The two of you eat, making plans for the weekend. You knew Dean wouldn’t have a problem with going to see his family over the weekend; it was more a concern for how much time this special project was going to take up. You allow Katherine to stay up an extra 30 minutes, hoping Dean would make it in. But by 9:00 you get her in bed yourself. You fall onto the couch and drape a blanket over yourself before dozing off as you wait for Dean to get home.

The sound of someone rummaging around the kitchen draws you from your slumber. You sit up and rub at your eyes before squinting at your phone. It was nearly midnight. You sigh and rise to your feet before walking into the kitchen.

“Dean, baby, are you just getting in?” You ask before freezing. Dean was not the one fumbling around your kitchen. You stare at the strange man with long hair then grab a knife from the butcher block on the counter. The man raises his hands quickly.

“No, no!!” He says. “I’m Sam!!” You stare at him, holding the knife out towards him.

“Hey!! Whoa!!” Dean says, coming around the corner suddenly. You look at him and he takes the knife from you. “Easy. This is Sam. From work. Remember?” You sigh and nod. Sam. From work. The special project.

“I’m so sorry. Dean didn’t tell me he was bringing someone home,” you tell Sam. He smiles and shakes his head. You look back up at Dean, raising an eyebrow.

“I saw you were asleep on the couch. I went in to check on Katherine then I was going to move you to bed,” he explains. You nod slightly and he looks at Sam. “Sam Wesson, this is my wife, Y/N.” Sam smiles at you apologetically.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry for the scare,” he says. You shake your head, leaning against Dean as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“It’s fine. Not your fault,” you tell him. Dean kisses your temple quickly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sam and I are actually about to head back to the office. Shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Be careful,” you say, looking back at him. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up when you come in.” He laughs lightly and kisses you briefly before letting you go.

A few hours later, you rouse to the bed shifting next to you as Dean climbs in. You feel him gently push a hair from your face and you open your eyes.

“I told you not to wake me up,” you mumble teasingly. Dean laughs softly and nods.

“Sorry,” he says. You watch his face for a moment. His smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes the way it always does.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He shrugs his shoulders, laying an arm across your waist.

“Weird night,” he says. You nod slightly, waiting. He eventually sighs, his eyes averted. “Are you happy, Y/N?” He asks. You smile and reach up, placing your hand against his cheek. His eyes meet yours again.

“I’ve got you. Katherine. The baby. What more could I want?” You ask. He nods slightly.

“Do you feel like – like something’s missing?” He asks. Your smile falls slowly and you sit up, looking down at him.

“You feel like something’s missing,” you say. He frowns and sits up quickly.

“Not with you!! No,” he says, taking your hands in both of his. “I am happy. With you and our little family. It’s just – work.” You nod as he reaches up and wipes the stray tear from your cheek.

“You aren’t happy with your job then change it,” you tell him. He sighs and shakes his head.

“What about the baby? And the life we have planned?” He asks. You pull your hands from his and takes his face in them gently.

“As long as we have each other, I don’t care about the rest of it, Dean. All of this,” you say, glancing around the bedroom. “It’s just stuff.” He smiles and you kiss him softly. “What are you wanting to do?” You ask as you pull away, running your fingers through his hair.

“Some freelance work with Sam. We’d be traveling a lot,” he says. You smile and nod. “I might quit tomorrow.”

“I’ll start packing then,” you tell him. He smiles and shakes his head, watching you.

“You’re too good for me,” he says before leaning in and kissing you again. You smile and lay back, pulling him down with you.

The next morning, you drop Katherine off at school before heading over to Dean’s office. You smile at Janice as you walk up to her desk. She hangs up the phone and returns the smile.

“Mrs. Smith. How are you feeling?” She asks. You laugh lightly and shrug.

“Morning sickness. It’s hit or miss, you know,” you tell her. She smiles, knowingly, and nods. “He in the office?”

“Go on in,” she says. You smile again and round the corner, stopping in his door. One of his coworkers is sat across from him.

“Ugh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It’s – umm…” Dean stammers and stops when he sees you in the door. You smile at him apologetically then step inside. The man looks over and smiles, standing up.

“I’m sorry. Janice said it was fine to just come in,” you tell him before holding up a small plastic container. “You left your lunch this morning.” Dean laughs lightly and nods, holding his arm out for you.

“Mr. Adler, this is my wife, Y/N,” he introduces, wrapping his arm around your waist as you move into his side. You smile and shake Mr. Adler’s extended hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I heard the good news. Congratulations!!” He says, reaching a hand out to your stomach. Dean’s arm tightens around your waist slightly and Mr. Adler notices, dropping his hand quickly. “I was just talking to Dean here about all the big things coming his way.” You smile and look up at Dean. He looks back at you and you nod your head once.

“I’m giving my notice,” he says, looking back at Mr. Adler. You smile proudly as Dean explains his reasoning, this company not being who he’s meant to be. You’d always known of course that Dean was so much more than a suit and tie. Mr. Adler directs his attention to you now.

“And how do you feel about it?” He asks. You shrug slightly.

“I’ll support him in whatever he decides to do,” you tell him. Mr. Adler nods and an almost sinister grin starts to spread across his face. Dean frowns and pulls you a little closer.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally,” Mr. Adler says. He reaches forward quickly and touches two fingers to both of your heads. Your mind fogs over for a second before clearing. Dean’s arm drops from your waist and you take a step backwards. You steady yourself against a chair, feeling dizzy, as you start to recollect everything.

You and Dean were not high school sweethearts. You weren’t married or a housewife. You didn’t live in a fancy penthouse apartment. Your daughter didn’t go by Katherine or go to a private school. Your hand comes to your stomach quickly and you sigh. The baby was real. You knew that much.

“Are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?” The man you had thought was Mr. Adler says to Dean. He shakes his head slightly in response. You reach out for Dean’s arm quickly and he looks at you.

“M.K. Dean, we have to go get her,” you tell him. His eyes widen slightly and he nods as Sam comes running into the room. Dean looks around and frowns, the other man now vanished.

“What the hell happened??” Sam asks, staring at his brother. Dean shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist quickly.

“We gotta go,” he says, pulling you from the office. The three of you make your way through the building as quickly as you can. You find the Impala parked in a nearby garage. Sam gets into the backseat, allowing you to sit up front. Dean throws the car in gear and whips his tie off as he peels out of the garage. You jump when your cellphone starts to ring and pull it out quickly.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver.

“Mrs. Smith. This is Dr. Brown from the school,” a woman’s voice on the other end says. Your eyes widen and you look at Dean. He glances at you as he drives. “Katherine seems to be having a panic attack of some sort.”

“Can I talk to her please?” You ask, trying to keep your voice calm. You hear the phone shift hands and M.K.’s sobs come over the line.

“Momma??” She asks. “I don’t know where I am and these people are calling me Katherine Smith!! Where are you??” You shush her quickly.

“M.K. I need you to calm down. Daddy and I are on the way to get you right now, okay? Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll be there in just a few minutes,” you tell her, wiping at your own eyes. There was nothing in her voice but sheer terror.

“You’re coming?” She asks, trying to calm herself down.

“Just minutes away. I swear, Baby Girl,” you assure her, squeezing your eyes closed. The phone changes hands again.

“Do you want us to give her anything?” The woman asks.

“No!!” You say a little too loudly. “No. My – my husband and I are on our way to get her now.” You look over at Dean and he nods.

“Very well. We’ll keep her in the office,” she tells you. You nod and hang up, dropping the phone in your lap. You clasp your hands together in front of you, trying to stop them from shaking. Dean reaches over, running a comforting hand over your knee.

“She’s gonna be fine. We’re almost there,” he says. You shake your head slightly, wiping at your tears quickly.

“You’ll have to go in and get her. I can’t,” you tell him, barely keeping it together. He nods and squeezes your knee. His hand stays there until he parks the car in front of the school building. After he gets out, skipping steps as he rushes to the door, you feel another hand come to rest on your shoulder. You look back to find Sam frowning at you.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this,” he says. You merely shake your head, unable to speak. You take a few calming breaths, knowing you can’t be falling apart when Dean gets back with M.K.

A minute later, he’s rushing back down the stairs with her held tightly in his arms. You can see he’s talking to her, reassuring her, apologizing to her. You push open your door and he hands her off to you quickly before running around to his side. You hold her tight, alternating between kissing her temple, cheek, and hair. You’ve never been more grateful to have her in your arms as Dean peels away from the school, tires screeching.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 10 here.