#part of why ive stayed here for so long is the comfort of familiarity. but right now i dread going to work for more than just working. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amoristt · 3 years

Text

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him.

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this.

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red.

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you.

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.”

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it.

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?”

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy.

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip.

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy. As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be.

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke.

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind.

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find.

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse.

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable.

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look.

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began.

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan.

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

You lowered your head.

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot.

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled.

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?”

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod.

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again.

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly.

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust.

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that?

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person?

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once.

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew.

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under.

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed. How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you.

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions.

No wonder he was so angry.

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call.

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing.

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.”

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.”

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again.

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy. He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right?

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger.

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying.

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos.

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh.

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up.

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?”

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot.

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.”

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.”

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm.

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange #grazing the fire #scenario #fanfic #fluff

168 notes · View notes

myfavoriteficss · 3 years

Text

Marvel Angst Masterlist

This Masterlist includes all of the Marvel angst I have reblogged. The angst will range from very light to heavy depending on the fic. Enjoy.

Updated: 07/17/2021

Marvel Masterlist's

Masterpost

KEY:

Genre: (F) = Fluff, (A) = Angst, (D) = Dark, (J) = Jealousy, (V) = Violence, (H/C) = Hurt and/or Comfort

Trope: (ER) = Established Relationship, (EL) = Enemies to Lovers, (FL) = Friends to Lovers, (FE) = Frenemies, (FD) = Fake Dating, (F/B) = Friends with Benefits, (BU) = Breakup/Already Broken Up, ( C) = Cheating, (UL) = Unrequited Love, (SB) = Slow Burn, (P) = Pregnancy, (BS) = Bed Sharing, (SR) = Super Reader

Type: (AU) = Alternate Universe, (18+) = Mature/NSFW, (HC) = Headcanon

1. Wanda Maximoff

Written by: @aaron-despair

Not your fault (ER, F, A)

Written by: @abimess

It only takes the holidays (AU, A, F): (1) It only takes a commercial - (2) It only takes a pothole - (3) It only takes a lunch - (4) It only takes a party - (5) It only takes a Christmas tree - (6) - It only takes an unexpected visit - (7) It only takes a weird noise - (8) It only takes a fund-raising event - (9) It only takes a starry sky - (10) It only takes a Christmas gift - (11) It only takes a decision - (Epilogue) It only takes a deed

Too familiar, too hurtful (EL, A, F)

Marry me (A, F)

Written by: @aestethick

Roses (A)

Written by: @allyouthought

always (F, A)

Written by: @aphrodite-made-me-write-it

Cast A Spell (On You) (AU, A)

Written by: @badgerfic

the serum (A, V): Part 1

Written by: @buckyssoldat

(UL, A) (1) Not in that way - (2) Gone

Written by: @c-is-writing

gaze into my mind (A, F)

good enough (A, F)

Written by: @cantcontroltheirfear

Odds (AU, A): (1) Another One - (2) I’m Ready - (3) Bar With No Name - (4) That Much Is True - (5) Still - (6) Second to Last Last - (7) Even

Written by: @captainhotch

Cat and Mouse (A)

Written by: @certifiedskywalker

Waiting for Home (A)

Written by: @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba

Je Te Laisserai De Mots (A)

Written by: @delfiore

i sunk in all the memories (A)

better than losing you (ER, A)

Written by: @desparadowrites

The Very Awful Not Good Bad Day (SR, A)

Written by: @empyreanwritings

Almost Lost You (FL, A, F)

Written by: @fallinforevans

you have me (FL, A, F)

Written by: @forever-your-soldat

(ER, A) (1) Too Much - (2) Her Love

I Can’t Hurt You (A, V)

Written by: @frostedfaves

All Too Well (ER, A)

Written by: @harringtons-imagines

Monster (A, F)

Written by: @helloalycia

just a kid (ER, A, V, D): [one] - [two]

Written by: @hiiraya

(A, F) (1) one last dance (rewrite) - (2) one last chance (rewrite) - (3) with you

loving you had consequences (rewrite) (BU, A)

you are my sunshine (rewrite) (A)

Written by: @jabbagabba

La La Land (A): Prologue

Written by: @jbbarnesnnoble

(ER, C, A) (1) Out of Everyone Else - (2) It's Me You're Gonna Miss

Written by: @kingsmanandqueens

Winsome Enigma (A, F)

Written by: @lesbian-lilo

Mission Mishaps (H/C, F, A)

Written by: @lowkeyerror

I Have To See Her Again (A, V)

Written by: @m-lesmxrales

Safe & Sound (ER, A)

Written by: @marvel-wlw

Somewhere to Run (A)

Written by: @marvels-writings

Broken Sense (UL, A)

Dreams that Come True (F, A)

Always Safe (A)

Scared (A, F)

Hurting You (A, F)

Wanted More (ER, C, A)

Written by: @marvelsdc22

What We Thought We Lost (AU, FL, A, F): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @may-fanfic

I Just Want You (A, F)

Written by: @mcuwritin

Mission gone wrong (A): Part I - Part II

Frenemies? (FE, A, F): Part I - Part II

Written by: @missmonsters2

About You (A): Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X

(ER, A) (1) Under the Light - (2) You Found Me

Find Your Way (BU, A)

Last the Night (ER, C, A)

Written by: @mymymarvel

Never Is Enough (A)

Written by: @nermalina

so in love. (A, F)

Written by: @nervoustrack

We're out in the open sea (A)

Written by: @nothingbutimagines

Last Christmas (UL, A, F)

Written by: @procrastinatingsapphictrash

The pact (FL, F, A)

Written by: @queenxxxsupreme

1950 (A)

Written by: @randomshyperson

Sorry for your loss (FL, A, F): (1) I will grieve - (2) I will try - (3) I will get better. - (4) I will move on - (5) I will love again (18+)

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy (AU, FL, F, A): (1) The First Year - (2) The Second Year - (3) The Third Year - (4) The Fourth Year (Part I) - (5) The Fourth Year (Part II) - (6) The Fourth Year (Final Part) - (7) The Fifth Year (Part One) - (8) The Fifth Year (Part Two) - (9) The Fifth Year (Part Three)

Left Behind (FL, A, V, F): (1) Muddy Waters - (2) R.I.P to My Youth - (3) No Time to Die - (4) Save Me - (5) Someone You Loved - (6) Once a Promise, Always a Promise. - (7) Start a Riot - (8) Fine Line - (9) Please Notice - (10) Atlantis

Road to Healing (FL, A, F, 18+)

Drivers License (AU, FL, F, A)

The One (AU, A, F)

Written by: @rebeliz777

August (C, F/B, A): Part I (18+) - Part II (18+) - Part III

Again (A)

Crumbling down (A)

Written by: @reminiscingtonight

(BU, A) (1) Better By Now - (2) Run Into You - (3) Still the Same

(FL, A) (1) Through The Dark - (2) If I Fall - (3) Breaking Point

(ER, A) (1) Cellophane - (2) Apologies

(AU, ER, A) (1) Break My Heart Again - (2) Burn It All Down

(FL, A, F) (1) Last Kiss - (2) All I Know - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - (6) Breathe (It’s Out Of My Hands)

A Different Corner (A)

Need You Now (A)

Let’s Hurt Tonight (ER, A)

Ghost of You (A)

Lego House (AU, FL, A, F)

Not Ready For Goodbyes (ER, A, F)

Hold On (ER, A)

Twilight Time (ER, F, A)

Feel It Twice (A)

I’ll Never Love Again (A)

Written by: @rogue-barnes-16

I’m A Monster (FL, A, F)

Written by: @saintprinsessa

Feeling You (A)

Written by: @sapphicshots

to grow old in (ER, A, F)

falling (FL, A, F)

Written by: @shesaidnomaam

Witch & Wound (A, F): Part 1 - Part 2

Two A.M, Two Bottles In (A)

Written by: @somewhatgreatexpectations

Love Goes (FL, C, BU, A, F): (1) Latch - (2) One Day at a Time - (3) Fire on Fire - (4) Like I Can - (5) Breaking Hearts - (6) Another One - (7) Palace - (8) Writing’s On The Wall - (9) For The Lover That I Lost - (10) Leave Your Lover - (11) Nirvana - (12) Lay Me Down - (13) To Die For

Love Me (Or Let Me Go) (AU, A, F): (1) Leave, Then Go - (2) If you need me, let me know - (3) Walk Away - (4) In the Middle - (5) Love Me, or Let Me Go - (6) Don't Go - (7) Separate Ways - (8) Set You Free - (Alt. Ending) Home

Written by: @spoopy-imagines-writer

Behind These Hazel Eyes (A)

Written by: @starshipsofstarlord

Two Beds, One Home (A, F)

Testing. Testing. (A)

Written by: @subtlebucky

she lives in daydreams with me (A, F)

Written by: @thenatashamaximoff

Dangerous Love (C, BU, A, V, SR): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Epilogue

Broken Love (C, A): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin

Guilt is an Ugly Mistress (ER, A)

Of Love and Of Loss (ER, A)

Written by: @waiting4inspiration

Why? (A, F)

Written by: @wandaownsthisass

If You Need Me (A)

Written by: @wandaromanova

Should’ve Been You (ER, A)

Written by: @wandsolsen

Champagne Problems (ER, A)

Written by: @wellsayhelloaagin

Cross My Heart (ER, A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @wokeupinawalnut

(ER, BU, A) (1) Six Degrees Of Separation - (2) Wherever This Goes

Save The Best For Last (FL, A, F)

Written by: @young-and-bitchy (deactivated)

Here You Come Again (BU, A)

Written by: @8plasma

children of tragedy (A): [part 1] - [part 2]

2. Natasha Romanoff

Written by: @aestethick

Last Kiss (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @allfiguredout

Home (A)

Written by: @aphrodite-made-me-write-it

To Mend (A, F)

Written by: @c-is-writing

untangled (F, A)

Written by: @crimsonspy

Don’t shut me out (FL, SB, A, F)

Written by: @demxters

bluebird (A)

Written by: @femreader

Don’t Go (H/C, A)

Written by: @higherfurther-romanova

Then Finish It (A, V, D): Part 1

Written by: @hiiraya

(A) (1) didn't know what I had - (2) you were good to me - (3) what I want

closure (A)

Written by: @jbbarnesandnoble

Rainy Season (A)

When We Were Young and Naive (AU, A)

Written by: @jumbojamba47

Guest Room (A)

Written by: @lesbian-deadpool

New Surroundings (A): (1) Glad You Are Back - (2) Glad To Be Home

(A, F) (1) We Were On A Break! - (2) I’ll Be Home For Christmas

A Fresh Start (A, F)

Written by: @lilxberry

I Watched You Die (A): Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Written by: @lndlover

Somebody else (C, A)

Written by: @lonelyandlovelorn

Loophole (F, A)

Written by: @marvels-writings

(ER, C, BU, A) (1) Used To - (2) World Turned Upside Down - (3) My Forever

Not Meant to Be (A)

A Reason to Leave, a Reason to Stay (A, F)

Perfect (A, F)

Past Come to Life (A, F)

Piece of Your Heart (A, F)

Make it Right (ER, A)

Can’t You Tell? (A)

Written by: @marvelouslytrekking

Finding You (A, V)

Written by: @marvelsbanner

Someone to You (A, F)

Written by: @may-fanfic

Because I love you (A, V): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @missmonsters2

Lead Me Astray (ER, A)

Leave Me Lonely (ER, A)

Stars Falling (A, F)

Written by: @natasha-danvers

Oh (A, F): Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Longing (A): Part 1

Written by: @pietrosgf

the sweet escape (A): (1) what died didn’t stay dead - (2) you’re alive in my head

Written by: @pigeonp0st

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #2 (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Can’t get over her (A, F)

The rest of my life (A, F)

A little help from the team (A, F)

Doubt (A, F)

Drunken confessions (A, F)

Written by: @quickpiet

Walk it off (A, F)

Written by: @rebeliz777

You saved me (A)

Written by: @roger-that-cap

(ER, C, A) (1) cardigan - (2) tolerate it

peace (A, F)

Written by: @romanoffswifey

Point Blank (A): Part 1 - Part 2

Written by: @saltybaltic

Come Back To Me (A, F)

Written by: @sapphicshots

i can’t live without you (A, F)

Written by: @satxnsupreme

Welcome home (A)

Written by: @shesaidnomaam

Natasha x Reader (A): Part 1

Written by: @startrekkingaroundasgard

“I didn’t mean it.” (A, F)

Written by: @thenatashamaximoff

Dangerous Love (C, BU, A, V, SR): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Epilogue

Broken Love (C, A): Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin

All That Matters (A, F)

Written by: @vanillann

real or not real? (A)

Written by: @vulpe-fox

Seeing You (A)

Written by: @wandavixen

Hurt (A)

Written by: @wannabe-fic-writer

Old But New (A, F)

Fed Up (A)

Written by: @wildhoney323

Moving On (C, A, F)

Written by: @winedrunkbarnes

Roses and Regrets (A, F)

Written by: @wisewidow

Gunshot Roses (A)

Written by: @wokeupinawalnut

(ER, BU, A) (1) Talks That Break Hearts - (2) Talks That Mend Hearts

Written by: @yourmcu

Bloodlust (A, F, V)

3. Carol Danvers

Written by: @hiiraya

stay a little longer (rewrite)

the one (that got away) (rewrite)

get well soon (rewrite)

until the end

Written by: @missmonsters2

Move Me Along

Written by: @wlw-imagines-blog

We Don’t Talk About It

4. Yelena Belova

Written by: @a-simple-imagine

Left Behind

Written by: @empyreanwritings

Old Habits Die Hard

Written by: @marvels-writings

Stay

Written by: @nermalina

mild interference.

Written by: @rogue-barnes-16

Braids

МОЯ ЛЮБОВЬ

Written by: @thewitchandtheassassin

Promises

5. Michelle Jones (MJ)

Written by: @borntobewondering

& Ever

Written by: @heckin-good-holland

In Her Arms

Written by: @leiasfanaccount648

Good Times

Written by: @sensestinging

Curious - Unfolding

#masterlist #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #carol danvers x reader #yelena belova x reader #michelle jones x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #dom’s recommendations

543 notes · View notes

bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff

426 notes · View notes

thirsty-flygirl · 3 years

Text

Touch Me

Formerly The Textile Series

A Javier Peña x f! Reader Romance

Rating: Explicit - language, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll. You know the drill, no one under 18 allowed.

Word Count: 2168

A/N: Look, it’s no secret that I would let Javi absolutely ruin me so here is The Textile Series, back again with a few changes, so I can simp some more over my favorite DEA agent.

******

Part IV: Leather

You slammed the shot glass down, proudly popping the lemon between your salt-swollen lips. Tequila always tasted good and, with one of Escobar’s most notorious sicarios now in US custody, it tasted even better.

“C’mon, Javi, take a shot with me,” you shouted across Murphy to your other partner, who offered you his signature smirk, the corner of his lips lifting as he regarded you. Steve placed a palm against your face and playfully pushed you back, grimacing.

“Christ, woman, you’re gonna make me go deaf,” he complained. You poked a finger into his ribs, gleefully watching as he doubled over. “Ah! No tickling, that’s not playing fair and you know it.” He clambered off the barstool and pointed to the now-empty seat. “Sit. That way you don’t have to scream at Javi.”

You shuffled about and made yourself comfortable on the stool, offering Javier a grin. His smirk shifted into a full-blown smile, that sweet little dimple popping, and your stomach flipped at the sight. Your feelings for Javier were getting out of control, strengthening each day you spent together. You’d nearly kissed him right there at the President’s ball last night, in front of your superiors, not giving a second thought to the damage it could affect on your career. You had worked hard, damn hard, to get where you are, despite the sexism and harassment you’d received because you were a woman. Hell, Steve and Javier were two of only a few men you could think of that didn’t treat you like your only worth was between your legs.

But there you were, hunting down Colombia’s most notorious drug lord, and all could do was simper like a teenager every time Javi smiled.

“You’re drunk,” Javi offered, shifting in his seat to lean on the bar next to you. His elbow brushed against yours, leaving your skin tingling from where your bare skin met. As usual, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his chest on display. Your eyes roved over his form hungrily, slipping down to see the smattering of dark hair on his chest, before settling on his gorgeous face.

Up close, Javier was disarmingly beautiful. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned into you, eyes searching yours as though they could see every secret etched on your heart. A smattering of freckles dotted his face, barely visible, but you had stared so long and so hard at him that you had every perfect imperfection memorized. His hand wrapped loosely around his tumbler of whiskey and you couldn’t help but imagine that hand wrapped around yours, tethering you to him as you finally gave into your desires.

“I’m not,” you finally managed, finding yourself inching closer to him, a coil of desperate need beginning to unfurl within you. Taking his glass, you let your fingers brush against his, watching his pupils dilate. You took a sip of the biting liquor, letting it trail a path of fire down your throat. “I’m just feeling good.”

Javi reached up to wipe a drop of whiskey from your lips with his thumb, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling good, hmm? And why’s that?”

You let out a soft whimper at his touch, just loud enough for Javier to feel the vibration on your skin. His eyes darkened and he let out a deep sigh. “You’re gonna get me in fucking trouble one of these days.”

The two of you sat staring stupidly at each other, as though you were the only two people in the crowded bar. Heart pounding and cunt throbbing, you let your fingers settle on his thigh, trailing them toward the seam of his jeans and so close to the place you felt pressed against you last night.

You leaned forward and closed the distance, whispering in your partner’s ear “I heard you like—”

“—Okay, it’s time to go,” Steve thrust his arm between the two of you, setting his empty beer bottle on the worn, wood bar with a loud thump. You and Javi sprung apart like kids caught necking, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you along with the realization that you had been so wrapped up in Javier that you’d forgotten you were in public.

Javi pulled back like he’d been punched, the naked desire written on his face shifting back into a closed, unaffected expression. Nodding at Steve, he avoided your eyes and stood.

“Yeah, it’s late.”

Your stomach lurched at the speed with which Javi could turn off any sign of being interested in you. It was like hot and cold with him, and you were starting to wonder if he even thought of you as more than a potential fuck. You weren’t blind; you knew exactly how your partner managed to get such reliable intel. It wasn’t like you could fault him - you had no claim on him and you knew he was just trying to get one step ahead of Escobar. But the thought of his body bringing another woman the kind of pleasure that you could only imagine, while you lay in your bed at night writhing on your fingers? That was enough to send a wave of jealousy surging through your veins.

You clambered off the stool, leading the way to the door in silence. If Javi wasn’t affected by you, well, you could at least act as if you felt the same. You emerged from the warm bar into the cool night air sweeping over your heated skin like a balm. You continued walking down the street toward the Embassy apartments; the bar wasn’t far from where all of you lived and, while Steve had driven over after work, you wanted to clear your head a bit. Decidedly ignoring their calls to “get in the damn car” (Javi’s words, not yours), you managed to get nearly a block before a hand closed over your elbow.

“What the hell are you doing?” Javi demanded, his dark eyes flicking around to the dark, run-down buildings surrounding you. As much as you wanted to fall into his arms, you pulled away and continued meandering down the street toward your apartment.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you called back flippantly, “I’m walking home!”

Javi groaned in a mixture of exasperation and defeat, jogging a few steps to catch up to you. “Not alone, you aren’t,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Here, at least take my jacket,” he ordered, shrugging off his worn, leather coat and placing it around your chilled shoulders. He sighed loudly as you continued walking, calling after you. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

You spun around in a circle with your arms out, laughing into the night. “I’m a pain in YOUR ass? Javier Peña, you are, without a doubt, the most confusing, irritating man I’ve ever met!” You continued down the street shaking your head and laughing into the night while you continued your rant.

"What I don't understand," you threw over your shoulder in his direction, "is how you can just change direction and act like we don't have anything here. . . like you weren’t about five seconds from fucking me right there in the bar. . . .” Trailing off, you felt the fight leave you. Exhaustion crept through you in its place, and all you wanted now was to get home and sleep your buzz off.

“Hell, maybe I’m just imagining things,” you mumbled tiredly.

You heard Javi's steps come up beside yours, somehow felt his warmth even from feet away. You hated the feeling of tears building in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be an emotional wreck in the face of Javi's aloofness. His warm hand closed around your elbow once again, but this time you let him pull you back.

“You think this is just some goddamn game to me?” Javier whispered fiercely, tugging your arm so that you fell forward against him. His free arm curled around your waist, holding you in an approximation of the exact position you had been in while dancing last night.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he gritted out, those deep, brown eyes glittering with fire. Javi brought his hand up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued, and all you could do was stand there, transfixed by his words and the sheer emotion behind them. “You think it’s easy for me to stay away? To act like I’m not thinking about you every goddamn minute of the day?" He shook his head with a defeated expression.

“All I want is to have you,” he continued, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just under your ear. He paused and your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for the moment when you would finally feel his lips on yours.

Without warning, he released you, leaving you cold and wanting as your eyes flew open. Looking at his face, you saw pain etched in every line, agony reflecting in his eyes.

“But I can’t give you what you want.”

He turned away, looking down the street, jaw clenched. You felt tears prick your eyes, frustrated with his words. “Javi,” you began, reaching out, “You’re what I want, I don’t need—”

“No,” he insisted, refusing to meet your eyes. “I need to catch Escobar, that’s the only thing that matters. I’ve been so distracted and I—” He broke off, his hand coming up to massage at his neck in a gesture so familiar it hurt. He dropped his head with a frustrated sigh and gently pushed at your shoulder.

“Come on, we need to get home.”

You let Javier walk a few steps ahead of you, mind spinning and heart squeezing painfully in your chest. You had felt so warm in his arms, so alive, like every one of your nerve endings buzzed when you were pressed against his body. Now, even with the worn leather of Javi’s jacket pulled around you, you felt chilled, lonely, incomplete.

Down deep, you knew Javier Peña was a selfless man. He wanted to do good, be good, but always felt like he was falling short. He had one mission in Colombia: to capture Pablo Escobar. Anything beyond that was unnecessary, a distraction; something you understood well.

But your heart was selfish - you wanted both. To find Escobar and have him extradited and locked up with a maximum sentence, definitely. But on those lonely nights and the moments in-between when you could imagine something other than the gritty underworld of Colombian drug trafficking, you wanted Javier. Wanted his arms around you, his mouth against yours. You wanted to trace the lines of his neck with your tongue, wanted to run your hands down his torso, then lower, lower, until you breathlessly gripped him and slid down, finally finding home in the middle of the madness.

At an impasse and emotionally drained, you stayed silent for the remainder of your walk, watching Javi turn his key in the security door and shuffling in behind him. You began up the stairs, the feeling of Javier’s gaze burning through you, before you remembered the coat curled around your body.

“Oh, I forgot,” you mumbled, moving to the bottom step while shrugging the garment off. You held it out to Javier, keeping your eyes on the floor, silently begging him to just take it so you could lock yourself in your apartment and break down in private.

“Keep it,” Javi replied, the gravel in his voice still sending a thrill of arousal through your body despite the fact that you felt like he was slipping away from you. "Something to remember me by when we get out of this shithole."

You smiled sadly, reaching out to place a hand gently against his chest, your palm settled over the steady beat of his heart.

Javier stared at you, the longing in his eyes so tangible you couldn't stop the tears from falling. He gently swiped them from your cheeks, a sad smile on his lips.

"Don't cry over me, Sweetheart. I'm not worth your tears."

He leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, letting his full lips linger for a moment before taking a step back, the inches between you feeling like an impassable chasm. You stood silently, afraid that the tenuous grip you held on your emotions would break if you tried to speak. Javier turned and entered his apartment, never giving you a backwards glance, and you were left standing on the stairs alone.

With no reason to hold back you let your tears fall, your knees giving way as you sat down hard on the dirty step beneath you. You buried your face in the bundle of soft leather you held, weeping over a love you never had in the first place. Eventually, once your sobs calmed, you made your way up the stairs to your apartment and fell into bed exhausted, still clutching Javier’s jacket in your arms.

#javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña imagine #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javier peña #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos imagine #javi x reader #javier x reader #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic

102 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles @beskarboobs @wintermuteway

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña headcanon #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javi peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña headcanons #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos #caffeine rush

172 notes · View notes

ellitx · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Unexpected Sojourn

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to rome

word count: 3.2k

“[Name].”

You flinched when your name slipped from his lips. Venti furrowed his brows in worry and slowly knelt down before you, reaching his hand out to brush your cheek. You crawled backward before he could touch you.

Fear had once again found you. It spoke to you in its cackling voice. It told your legs to go weak, your stomach to lurch and your heart to ache. Your eyes averted from his own gaze. You don’t want to look at him.

You fear facing the unknown Venti in front of you. What happened back then still lingered inside your head. Those cold and ominous orbs when he looked at you made you shudder. You know that intense gaze wasn’t meant to be directed at you, yet it scared you so much the more you think about it.

His heart ached to see you distancing away from him. It feels so cold, like concrete drying his chest. It was unexpected for him to experience a heartbreak— top of the world one minute then cut down the next. Why is that? Is there a part of him that you dislike seeing? You do know that he’s trying to help you, right?

“[Name], what’s wrong?”

He softly asked, his voice sounded so pleading. As much as he wanted to near you, he kept himself in place to prevent you from keeping away. You have always imagined him holding you so many times, but now more often than not you find the future you seek is an empty shell.

Things have changed abruptly— he changed, so fast, you worry that he might not be able to control himself in front of you.

“It’s nothing…” You muttered. You said you aren’t scared but he can see your body movements are tighter and your yearnings reduced. Your smiles were shorter and silence longer. You didn’t even look at him as you said that.

Venti bit his lip as his face contorted. He so badly wanted to wrap his arms around you and just bury his face on your hair, taking in the fresh smell you have, yet you were scared. Scared of what though? He doesn’t know the answer to it. Was it because of Boreas?

“Please look at me…”

He begged. There was something in his voice, a pain behind it. You watched. You watched his eyes and then you knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered knight aimlessly lunging his sword, scared for his life, lonely, and desperate.

His emotions turned jagged and his insides tight. He wanted to cry out and reach out to you. Love him, sit with him, hold his hand, say his name, look into his eyes, and say you love him. He waited, heart in his mouth, hoping you’ll come back to his arms.

It hurt you. It hurt you to see him like this. The emotional pain in those green gems swelled you with guilt that you’re staying away from him. You impulsively extended out your arms and apologized.

“I’m sorry,”

Venti blinked in surprise yet he didn’t hesitate to come to you. Your arms were wide open, welcoming him in, and he immediately entered them then wrapped his arms around your waist so tightly.

His hug is stronger than anything you’ve ever known as if holding you wasn’t quite enough, he has to feel every ounce that you are pressed into every ounce that is him. In that moment of a feeling of you so close has awakened him, more alive and relieved than he has been in so very long.

He nuzzled onto your neck, feeling safe against you. Your warm hug took the pain away and just let himself melt and be comfortable. You slowly reached up to his head and caressed his dark locks.

“I’m sorry…” You repeated. “I… I thought you’re mad at me.” Your gaze darted downwards with your arms falling back to your side. Your eyes remained glassy for a moment and that’s when he finally connected the dots together.

You were scared seeing him furious. It’s an emotion he never really shows it often and is rare for him. This side of him was uncommon to see and you’ve never seen him felt like that once in your life of knowing him for all these years. Anger, pain, sadness— so intertwined that perhaps his name is ought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of these emotions.

Venti pulled away and looked at you, his eyes calmly searching yours. He raised your chin to make you look at him and pressed his forehead with yours. “I’m not mad. And I’ll never ever be mad at you.” Warm hands then cupped your cheeks and when he spoke, you can feel his warm breath against your face, and it’s just now you're realizing how close you two are.

“I’m worried about you,” The distance between your lips were just a few centimeters apart, almost brushing together. “And I don’t know what to do without you being here with me.” He was firm and gentle as he pulled you in and it caught you off guard the moment his lips brushed with yours. In that kiss was the sweetness of affection, a million thoughts condensed into a moment.

He laced his fingers with yours and tugged you close to him. You never quite figure out the beauty of his lips was more the softness of their association with the words he spoke. He always loves being near you, touching you, and holding you in his arms. His warmth would seep into your being and comfort you without ever opening his mouth.

You’d melt onto him easily as you belonged next to him as he belonged to you. And each time before you part, the aching to be in his arms would begin anew.

—

“Say Aether,” Paimon started catching the traveler’s attention as he stopped munching his food. He hummed at her and raised a brow. “Isn’t the Tone-Deaf Bard a little bit shifty this day?”

The blonde swallowed his meal and took a napkin wiping the crumbs sticking on the corner of his mouth then asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean aren’t you curious to know who this maiden Venti keeps talking about?!” Her face was so close whilst she floated above him. Aether sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This pixie really doesn’t know where to not poke her nose into, does she?

“It’s not our business and we shouldn’t pry onto it anymore.” Paimon puffed her cheeks and stomped her feet onto the air in annoyance. It did irk her that her companion was not interested in this topic, but her curiosity is eating her up.

“Is she perhaps the one he told us in his story?” She didn’t change the topic as she grinned while taking another piece of the Mushroom Pizza. Aether simply shrugged and just ignored her rambles, absently staring onto the wall of Good Hunter’s diner.

If it really was the girl Venti mentioned from the story of his old friend, does that mean she’s awake already?

“Anyways we’re still going to check it out, right?!”

He snapped out from his dazed state, owlishly blinking before looking back at her. “Hm? What are we talking about again?”

“You’re not even listening to Paimon! Well never mind, Paimon can just repeat it to you.” Before she could utter a word, Aether had cut her off. “If it’s about following Venti, we don’t have the slightest clue to where he could be.” His floating companion grumbled and crossed her arms in aggravation since what he said did have a point.

Albeit disappointing as it may be, she did actually hope they could investigate it later. “Bummer…” She muttered to herself and took another bite of the pizza.

Aether rummaged inside his bag and clicked his tongue at the sight of the lack of crystals he currently has. He forgot to collect more to enhance his weapon to the blacksmith, great. He disappointedly sighed and zipped his bag close. Sufficient mora, shortage of crystals. Seems like they’ll have to mine them before he could enhance his trusty sword.

“We’re going to Stormterror’s lair after this.” He announced. “Now? But we haven’t finished eating these yet! We still have another order coming.” Oh, right, the Sticky Honey Roast.

“We’ll eat Sticky Honey Roast first then go to Stormterror’s lair.”

“Aww yeah!”

The wait was fortunately not that too long. The waitress stopped by their table and served them their meals. The sight and aroma of the food made them drool in hunger, their souls wanting to ravish it in instant. The two grabbed their fork and knife, hastily slicing to get their piece, and enjoyed the delish meat feast prepared for them as they shoved a forkful of it into their mouths.

Warm food melted in the back of their throat and Paimon, who was dissatisfied with the size of her spoon, raised the plate to her face, wolfed it down, and licked the plate clean. Her body shook as she belched loud and long.

Aether cringed at her lack of manners in dining, looking away from the other customers who gave them a glance of curiosity at his guide. This emergency food will be the death of him.

After finishing their meal and paying up, the two went off and started their journey to the lair. The embryonic oaks laid upon the grass, their brown eyes a gift to the eyes. He could watch them for a while, these acorns, hoping the silent bliss would extend if not for some group of slimes and hilichurls attacking them.

Fighting was easy and not too much of a trouble for him, a sign that he’s gradually getting stronger. He smiled to himself and let his sword vanish into thin air on his back. Just a few more steps and he can finally gather the crystals he really needed.

The path went onwards and there was much journeying ahead in front of them. He paid no mind to Paimon’s ramblings about what food they should get later. Sheesh, why does she can only think of nothing but food? Just how big is her stomach that can handle so many?

Still, he appreciated her little babbles to distract himself from their quiet walk. His golden orbs then lit up at the sight of the familiar entrance getting bigger each step they take. His leg stopped from leading him and peered at the big tower looming before his small form.

The memories of the Stormterror issue returned to him. The agony and pain the poor dragon was suffering, the blood clot that drastically continued to consume him as he writhes and cries while no one was there to help him. Venti, the Anemo Archon, was there to help Aether in his journey and to aid in freeing Dvalin from being corrupted by the Abyss Order.

They were able to set him free and save him from poison with the help of the Dandelion Knight and Darknight Hero of Mondstadt. Still, even after that incident, there are still no clues as to where his sister could be.

Aether took the chunk of crystal and placed it inside his bag. He heaved a sigh and stretched his arms to ease the cramps formed on his tense shoulder due to the struggle of breaking the crystals from the ground.

“Are those enough?” Paimon hovered above him and took a peek inside as she asked. The blonde shook his head and sled the backpack over his shoulder. “Just need two more and then we can go back.” He took out his map and checked the current location he is in to mark the spot.

“Oh! Paimon remembers there are few over there.” Her small finger pointed on the spot of the map near to where they are and tugged his scarf to make him follow her. Few long strides here and there, his brow quirked when Paimon stopped midway guiding him.

“Uh… are you seeing what Paimon’s seeing?” His brows knitted together at her ambiguous context behind her words. “What are you talking about?” He questioned and looked in front seeing nothing but thin air.

“Over there! Is that a dead body?!” She flew behind him and took a little peek over his shoulder, her form slightly quivering in fear. He squinted his eyes to take a closer observation to where her finger was directing. Upon more detailed inspection, he can faintly draw out the figure that was limped on the ground.

In instinct, his legs immediately guided him towards the figure and saw an unconscious form of a girl the closer he gets. He knelt down and drifted his hand on your chest to check your pulse.

“She’s just unconscious.” He assured Paimon. She sighed in relief and fluttered across you to check your features then back to the area. Something feels off…

“Is it just me or was there always a garden here before?” She remarked, catching Aether’s attention. His eyes wandered to his surroundings and she was indeed right. Various flowers scattered before you, cushioning your body in the grassy field. He remembers that the ruins were only filled with the remains of the old buildings and structures.

He explored this area in and out and never once in his journey does he remember a garden was set up here in just a month. Is someone revitalizing this old lair? Even if it did, he should prioritize first your passed out state and bring you back to Mondstadt for safety.

“We should bring her back with us. It’s too dangerous here.” He told his little companion and before he could tuck his hands underneath your legs, a strong grip on his wrist stopped him from doing so.

He jerked his head in the direction of the owner’s arm, following the white sleeve covered up until to sight of a familiar appearance of a bard standing before him. Venti stared blankly at him with cold eyes. Frightened by his expression and sudden presence, he took in a sudden intake of breath and stumbled backward, his foot slipping from the ground. His shoulders tensed in alarm, the tightening grip on his wrist caused him to wince in pain.

“Venti?!” Paimon exclaimed in surprise and glided away to give the distance from him as she noticed the abrupt ominous aura encircling him.

“What are you going to do with her?” His expression hardened when the traveler remained quiet at his question, so he constricted his hold on him even further to get his attention.

“I said, what are you going to do with her, traveler?” He repeated but with a firm and loud voice. The pixie shuddered in fear at his unforeseen behavior but she quickly stepped in and tugged his hand away.

“We’re just going to bring her to the city to help her!” She exclaimed and attempted to release his restraint on her ally. Resentful countenance flit across his features as his mouth had gone hard hearing her words. Though, he quickly replaced it with a smile and finally let go of Aether.

“I see. There’s no need to do that.”

The blonde rubbed his wrist to ease the discomfort that continued to linger, he was sure of himself it’ll create a bruise on it. His eyes followed to the bard’s small form as he carried you in his arms. You squirmed against him and huddled closer searching for warmth.

Venti glanced at you then back to the two companions. “You should go back now.” His voice was more demanding than they had expected. An order from an Archon himself. Though Aether didn’t budge, he hoisted himself up first then looked at him in utter puzzlement.

“What about her? Is she injured? Sick? You should come with us too if you want to aid her.” Venti clicked his tongue and forced a smile to hide the growing anger that’s boiling up even more the more he talks.

“I can handle her myself. It’s getting dark already and I don’t want you to get lost on your way back to the city.” The small bickering started to wake you and this is not what Venti likes to happen.

As you rose from your light slumber, you are first aware of the coolness of the air and the fresh and loamy fragrance. Your clothes feel damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. You half wonder if you’re still dreaming as you shifted from your place and sensed your feet weren’t touching the ground.

“She’s awake!” You heard a squeaky voice exclaim near you. Venti raised his hand and commanded the winds to push the two away back to the exit.

“Leave. Now.”

It irked him further when Aether persisted then stared at you, observing your features in silence. If he’s desperate to stay then so be it, he can just teleport himself somewhere else with you as long as they keep a distance from you.

He didn’t hesitate to leave them all alone and not even once listening to what they’ll say as he suddenly disappeared into thin air with few teal feathers fluttering along with the air.

He stopped near the lake and heaved a sigh of relief that he can no longer see them at last. You rubbed your eyes to erase the sleepiness within you and looked up at him, calling his name in a drowsy manner.

“Sorry did I wake you, love?”

He settled himself on the ground and brushed your hair away that was fixed on your cheeks. You blinked and looked around the area to get a glimpse of where you are. Now you were awake, perhaps a little bit awake with a tint of drowsiness still in you. As far as you can tell, you’re trapped in your lover’s arms with birds making their carefree song around you.

“What’s the noise all about? What’s going on?”

Ah, seems like that woke you up. He sighed and placed his head on your shoulder to relax with just your presence. It’s a miracle how your own voice can instantly calm him down after attempting Aether and Paimon to leave the place.

“There were visitors that came here. Quite pesky I must say.”

“Visitors?”

That fully woke you up more than you’ve ever been. “No need to worry about that. It’s not really important. Get some more rest, you’re tired after what happened after all.” He kissed the top of your head and pulled you close to snuggle against him. You enjoy the feeling of his warm body next to yours, causing you to be sleepy once again.

He carefully shuffled to find a comfortable spot and looked at you. Your features were much softer in sleep, more youthful than ever no matter how many millenniums of years passed by. It reminded him of your heavy slumber while he waits for you to wake up.

But now, he doesn’t need to worry if you’re still in a comatose state. You’re already awake, with him and finally together. He can easily check up on you all the time as long as he’s next to you. He could soak in all that you are forever and still be right here, still wanting more. It is infatuation, but what is love without it? Desire, passion, and true love are threads of the same emotion, a perfect recipe for his attraction for you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact venti #venti #genshin impact reader insert #elliwrites #Illusory Sense

260 notes · View notes

infectedpaul · 3 years

Text

You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)

You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?

SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please

(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)

ao3 link if u prefer that!!

You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.

For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.

You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.

Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.

It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.

When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.

What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.

So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,

"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."

His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.

You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"

You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.

"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."

He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,

"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.

You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.

His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.

But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.

You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.

"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.

He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.

But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.

"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.

There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.

You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.

"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.

"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.

You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.

"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.

You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.

You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.

"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-

"A better friend."

A friend?

He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.

"What?"

He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."

You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?

When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.

"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.

"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.

"I'd love to help, friend."

#dex says things #THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE FLDSJFKLDSFDS #THE WORST PART IS IM PROUD OF THIS UGH #be more chill #the squip #squip x reader #my writing #ITS 530 AM UGH

73 notes · View notes

flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye IV — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Three days passed since their reconciliation and it felt as if the layer of ice around them finally melted into a somewhat comforting warmth. Mornings rose with an innocent conversation on their jobs except Jungkook tried to keep things discreet while they were eating. Nights ended in peaceful slumber, on the few occasions where Belle would sleep on his chest or Jungkook hugged her from behind.

The heavy pit in her stomach elated soon after a couple of decent sleeps. Especially now that the designing process for the Spring Line was almost over. Madame Saitos’ dresses were incredibly rare because each piece of clothing was handmade save for a few trips on the sewing machine. Which is why the designing process comes with a time restraint to ensure that the most raw ideas spewed onto the paper. Of course tweaks here and there would always be required but that time limit created some of Saito’s most prestigious fashion museum worthy designs.

Since Belle designed around half of the finalized line, she would handmake her own designs and the news alone could keep her happy for the rest of the year. After losing an opportunity to see her designs on the runway a tear almost jerked in her eye getting that chance again.

Secretly though her favourite design she made this month was the satin white suit for her ever fashionably selective ‘boyfriend’. Belle saw the kind of suits in his wardrobe, burgundy velvet, black with golden vectors, silk deep blue and over half of them were Saitos’ original designs. She knew that this suit had to match the standard of his entire wardrobe.

This morning Belle stood in front of an ironing board, briefly smoothing out the textures of the newly designed trouser ensuring that minimal pressure was placed. Glasses slightly slipped down her nose with her hair in a loose bun. Her body draped in a fitted black long sleeve tucked into a khaki green midi skirt and a short scarf tied around her neck.

The woman had enough time out of her work schedule to showcase the suit himself. Especially since ‘Jeon Jungkook preferred private deliveries’ as Saito would say with a playful roll of her eyes.

From what she observed Jungkook came back to the mansion for a lunch time refresh and almost right on the minute, the sound of a car stopping rung in her ears. Something fluttered in her heart knowing whose footsteps grew louder as the corner of her lips curled up when the familiar male showed himself, a small smile directed towards her.

Jungkook muttered a few words about the car to one of the guards before walking towards her while the pants now laid out on the ironing board neatly. “You’re working at home?” Hands dug into his pockets, eyes flickered down to the soft white pants.

Belle smiled with a bright glint in her gaze before turning around and grabbing the open box. “I wanted to give it you properly but—” Partially bandaged fingers hovered over the fabric of the freshly ironed jacket folded with care inside the box. “Do you want to try it?”

Something jolted inside him seeing the woman look over at him that he couldn’t quite describe in any sentence. But he nodded nonetheless. Shrugging off his own blazer, Jungkook kept a close eye on the graceful way she brought the long back suit out displaying it in front of him first. The corners of his lips instantly curled seeing the familiar winged design on the back, similar color to the whole suit except it had a sheen like texture that glistened when brought into the light. A design that resembled one animal he admired the most next to dogs. “Phoenix wings?”

The girl nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’m making a suit for you so–I wanted it to be personal.”

Her voice had turned so sweet in the past few days that Jungkook could melt by the sound at this point.

Belle walked closer and draped the blazer around him, letting his arms into the sleeves before it perfectly lay on his shoulders. As distracting as the measuring session was the woman managed to make the fitting as close as possible. “Is it comfortable?” When the male agreed, she felt a sense of accomplishment burst through her. Saito had her make and mend suits all the time when she was not named a ‘designer’ but somehow knowing this one was done well allowed for a tiny celebration in her belly.

Jungkook watched her beautiful eyes light up, that strange jolt sparking inside him again which he ignored for the time being. “I want to give you something too.” He glanced down at the magnificent blazer before looking up at her.

“What is it?” Belle watched him carefully shrug off the suit so the entire outfit could be placed neatly for the event it’s meant for.

Gentle hand wrapped around hers, Jungkook led her upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Once they reached the area Belle was made to wait on the bed while the male rushed into the walk-in wardrobe. The only thing she could make out properly were the sounds of rummaging through clothes and slight slamming of something wooden. Then his figure appeared again holding a small deep red velvet box in his hand. As soon as her eyes reached the object, her heart hammered before her mind could even catch up. It didn’t take an expert to assume what might lay inside the box as she had seen many like it for one particular occasion.

“I know it looks daunting.” Jungkook reassured as if sensing the thoughts rushing inside her mind. “A lot of deals tend to have paper contracts which we will get at some point.” He padded closer before kneeling down completely in front of her while she sat on the edge, his arms brushing against her knees. “But for now—I want to give you this. As a promise that I’ll never pull the rug from under you…ever. This agreement is as solid as the pillars of this mansion. Nothing will ever happen to it.”

Like a thin paper ripped out from her eyes Belle faced her true reality staring down at the now open box, showcasing a glimmering diamond ring. Growing up the woman had been one of those people who believed marriage was a sacred bond. A promise that two people would stay loyally and happily together till the end of their comforting days. Jungkook showed no sign of being disloyal nor did Belle feel any deep sense of unhappiness in these few days. Looking at the truth behind the veil seemed naïve in this situation knowing it would only make their ordeal miserable all over again. She couldn’t afford to be miserable now. Taehyung was getting better, taking his medicine and moving to become a better man and she had to stay strong to ensure that happened. He deserved to come out happier from all this just as much as she did.

So she smiled down at the male seeing a comforting shine in the ring now. Perhaps a sign of hope rather than some sensationalized sacred bond. “Which finger should I put it on?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling the ring out and gently taking her left hand. In no manner of hesitation the ring was softly placed on her fourth finger fitted to near perfection. “I borrowed one of your rings to get the fit.”

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Her hand absentmindedly reached out to caress the skin under his white collar feeling a slight warmth. Leaning in, Belle pressed a tender kiss just on the corner of his lips before pulling away.

His breath choked in his damn throat feeling her soft lips; his hands almost wanting to caress every inch of her skin and forget about the rest of the days’ work. Though Jungkook respected that Belle understood they couldn’t. No matter how amazing the idea sounded. He merely let out a slightly shaky sigh before giving the beauty a smile. Unfortunately he had to look back at the watch knowing there was a meeting looming in the next half hour almost leaving an empty feeling in his gut. “I have to go back to work.”

Belle nodded, snapping herself back to reality. “I have to go too.”

Hesitantly unlocking their joined hands they both went to their separate locations for the rest of the work-day.

Another two days went by in a blissful rush as Jungkook and Belle grew friendlier towards each other to the point where they would even share laughter through jokes from work or childhood life. Belle found out that his mother worked at a magazine company in Beijing while his father ran the investment companies in the US. They were very hands-off parents when he was growing up so his aunt practically adopted and raised him which is why his personality differed greatly from his father. Though his tactics in this business were heavily influenced by him.

Jungkook discovered her parents had been more fond of a son than a daughter so she had to jump through a lot more hoops to be good in their eyes. Eventually it never worked, Taehyung took care of her most of her life so far. That is until her parents were killed in an accidental explosion at their place of work which led to her older brothers’ downfall. Belle’s uncle and aunt tried to take care of him from time to time while she worked at the boutique until at some point they grew tired of babysitting a drug addict.

The two never really had a person to truly share mixed feelings about their upbringing. Even if Belle had Taehyung, he would always somehow reel back and tell her that their parents loved them both equally. Which she knew fully well was not true no matter how much it felt comforting to believe it.

Though the deep conversations usually faded back into playful serenity again now more comfortable with each other’s presence than ever before.

In came the day of the garden party.

Belle dressed herself in a baby blue midi dress, the overlay adorned with the same colored flowers on a sheer material trailing down to touch her knees, crème colored hat to finish it off. The second event she was going to with Jungkook but this time no sense of dread passed through her nor any stress. In fact the woman wanted to see Jungkooks’ aunt wearing the gorgeous dress she chose for the occasion. And Jungkook wearing his own custom made suit.

A similar routine where she walked down the stairs while the white-suited male gave some instructions to the guards possibly about keeping an eye on the mansion while they were away. Then he turned to face her once she reached the center of the living room, a soft smile immediately tugging at the corner of her lips.

The extremely aware corner of her mind now buried itself under all the elation developed through the past few days. Some part already knew that this was a ruse. Jungkook was successfully gaining everything he asked for without barely lifting a finger and Belle truly had no valid choice to disagree. Though if that thought swirled around in her head for too long, it would start aching and this whole experience could fade into torture again.

Perhaps there was a comfort in pretending that his hand intertwined with hers radiated comfort rather than entrapment. The guards bowing to them and leading them into the car showed a sign of protection rather than no means of escape. Jungkook might think the woman a pawn but that did not mean she was one.

From where she sat in the car shoulder pressed to him and hands still linked, Belle imagined herself to sit at the far end of the chess board rather than the front as a mere pawn.

Once they reached the garden party the couple was welcomed with a vibrant burst of nature, people in colorful dress and bright suits floating through the bushes like pixies. Occasionally a photographer or two flashed their camera towards them but hardly anything intimidating like the previous event. Eyes almost immediately flickered over to them when they walked out of the car. Holding Jungkooks’ hand actually provided some kind of comfort knowing she was not alone and exposed to all these people.

Bushes shaped to represent different safari animals, crowds of pink, white and red roses all around coupled with fragrant jasmines and chrysanthemums. The garden looked almost endless from the sides. Belle noticed the large cherry and peach blossoms, little petals falling gracefully and a gorgeous mansion to pull the whole picture together. The building adorned a taupe sandstone with golden detailing similar to Jungkooks’ estate except aged a bit more.

“Darlings!” Boyoungs’ voice rung in her ears as the woman bounced towards the couple wearing a royal purple midi dress with some matching wrist gloves and a floral hat to top it off. Purple tinted lips stretched out in a bright smile, hugging the both of them with the same enthusiasm.

The older female led them to the main table where her husband sat with a few other family friends who welcomed her with an intrigued smile. Sitting under the shade of the laced line umbrella provided some cool away from the warm sun while they were served tea.

Boyoungs’ eyes immediately flickered towards the shining diamond around Belle’s finger and a small gasp caught in her throat. “Oh you proposed!” Her announcement ripped through the entire group and onto a few others outside of the umbrella as a rush of cheer passed on like a infection.

Belle merely smiled with her gaze fixed on the rose tea while Jungkook chuckled nervously. She hoped they would not ask for a romantic proposal story but they all seemed to just pat the young male on the back. Some of the ladies asked what kind of cut it was which the girl gave an answer from observation. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of these people were probably arranged to marry. So the idea of any romantic story would be useless to them even though Belle and Jungkook were supposed to be a ‘love’ marriage.

Somehow the lack of her own froufrou story made it easier and harder to sit at the table. Belle politely listened to stories of awkward marriage arrangement along with an attempt to sound less hostile towards each other. For a minute she prided in being so good at pretending that her marriage was happy and full of light.

Though the pretense became exhausting really quickly. Her posture began to falter as her rose tea reached the end of its fill and the shade from the sun created cloud over her mind.

“Excuse me.” Belle spoke as gently as she could to the crowd. “I’m going to take a stroll.” She smiled getting up from the chair, chest feeling a little constricted.

Jungkook watched her in slight concern when she excused herself. Truthfully nothing about this conversation comforted him either. The whole idea of marriage, especially one that came from a business arrangement didn’t spark happy stories and it was a situation that some attendees at the table could relate to. The only thing he could do as a sign of comfort was touch her hand lightly which she squeezed in response before he watched her walk deeper into the gardens.

A couple of minutes passed and Jungkook grew tired of the conversations bubbling between his family friends so his eyes wandered to other attendees. Eventually his eyes set on one particular male, simple black suit with a silver necklace around his neck and blue lens glasses over his eyes.

Excusing himself from the table politely, he walked over to where the other male had been examining the jasmines. A few colorful pixies rolled in front of him and giggled when he gave them way until finally he was able to come close to a more reassuring face. Well second most reassuring to the one that just glazed through the gardens on her own.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of nature.” Jungkook smirked standing next to him.

“Well a lot of my supplies come from plants.” He shrugged, eyes merely scanning over the flowers and trees not really focusing on anything in particular.

“Technically they’re my supplies but sure.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attention trailing and silently searching for a familiar blue dress. “Anything to report?” It was a regular, almost absentminded question at this point whenever he saw the male since he was responsible for most of the sells around this area.

Hoseok took a generous sip of tea before wincing as he stared at the decorative cup. “Rose tea tastes like piss.” He cleared his throat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Everything’s fine so far. Clients are rolling in payments from all corners, some even paid in advance to ensure secrecy.” He placed the tea cup on one of the vacant tables before looking out in the gardens again. “Except a few regulars like Kim Taehyung still hasn’t paid.”

“I told he already paid all his previous payments.” Jungkook shook his head, brows furrowing.

“What about the one the five days ago?”

The younger male had to connect the dots for a few seconds as his forehead knitted. “Five days ago? He’s been in rehab for almost a fortnight.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it’s working. I remember all my sells.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Well I kinda just give it to Taehyung instead of sell.”

“You do know I could kill you for doing things like that, right?” Anger bubbled right up to his throat except not directed towards Hoseok.

“Hey you’re the one who told me to give younger clients a break.” He defended.

“I know.” Jungkook had the strong urge to tell him that Taehyung already paid the biggest price of all strolling around the cherry blossoms. “Don’t sell it to him anymore.” He ordered simply.

“What?”

“If he asks again, send him to me. Don’t give him anything.” He seethed the last word spotting Belle now as a bright suited man walked up to her. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the familiar face even from this distance.

Hoseok stared at the male quizzically. No client ever received this kind of special treatment even to send some kind of a message. Hell if he wanted to send a message, Taehyung would have been dead in a ditch somewhere for police to scrap him off. Yet Jungkook wanted to keep the man alive for some reason. “Why—”

“Just…” Jungkook sighed trying to push his frustrations even though he wanted to explode right there and then. “…Just do as I say.” Eyes flickered back over to Belle again who was now conversing and smiling with the man causing a small twinge in his chest. “I’m trusting you to do this for me, Hobi. Alright?”

The older male still looked utterly confused but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, man. You’re the boss.” He pressed his lips together. “Now can you tell where they put the whiskey?”

Jungkook glanced around the party before leaning into him. “Ask the server with the blue flower on his breast pocket. They usually bring in secret batches for more important guests. The password is periwinkle.”

“Is that some kind of fancy slang for penis?” Hoseok winced.

He stammered already imagining Belles’ reaction to that statement being far more dramatic than his. “It’s a shade of—just go.” Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as the male rushed to find his source of sanctuary.

Boyoung was definitely on par with the seasoning of fashion since a garden party was the absolute perfect way to create inspiration for spring design. Granted this years’ line finished in its designing process, there was no reason not to take in the sheer amount of beauty. How ethereal would those peach blossoms look on a silk kimono or chrysanthemum detailing on a wedding dress. So many colours and designs all around her Belle had the strong urge to twirl like a little child in pure happiness.

But to keep up a decent appearance she merely smiled watching the cherry blossoms fall gracefully down to the ground. Hand held out the woman managed to have one land on her palm. That was when a voice spoke from behind her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned around to see a man with a wisteria shaded suit and a charming plump lipped smile. His chocolate brown hair parted to the side with eyes that expressed both kindness mixed into a little intimidation. “It is.” Belle smiled at the male before glancing back at the scenery again.

He took a small step forward. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” He stated holding his hand out which the woman accepted kindly after a moments’ hesitation. “The owner of the Sangria House.”

Belle only heard a few rumors about the Sangria House much like a person who evaluated life in a brothel based on assumptions and fiction stories. From what she knew, it had the mixture of a teahouse and a brothel but that was pretty much everything. Either way she smiled knowingly trying to be polite even though the girl had no intention in admiring a neatly dressed pimp too much. “Kim Belle. Nice to meet you.”

“With the murmurs I’m hearing, it seems Kim will be turning to Jeon very soon.” Seokjin smirked, glancing over his shoulder towards the flowing pixies all over the garden.

The woman tried to maintain the smile despite her prior momentary peace in the garden now being diminished. “Maybe not that soon.” She mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

Her heart leaped slightly, the sudden urge to just spew out her whole situation in hopes that Seokjin would never be in her line of sight again. But the woman knew better to keep quiet especially since these attendees would probably not be that helpful nor would they find her ordeal abnormal. “I have a lot of other responsibilities right now.”

“Ah yes the new and coming designer for Saito.” Seokjin nodded, gaze lowered to his feet for a moment before looking over at her again.

Belle smiled politely feeling a sense of pride towards her workplace. Saitos’ outfits were rare so it was hard hearing about them from just anyone. Except from the way this man held himself and the reputation of the Sangria House, she knew Seokjin was not just anyone.

“You know, I had been wanting to order a few new dresses from Madame Saito as a refreshed décor for my angels.” Seokjins’ request lingered in the light breezy garden. “Maybe I could personally order you as my designer.”

A chill rushed down her spine either from the breeze or the fact he said ‘my designer’. Still the woman sighed lightly and smiled. The opportunity to create a contact was a literal dream come true. But the man did not know her designs nor did he see how she worked. Which gave the unsettling assumption that Seokjin was asking on his mere personal interest just by looking at and talking to her.

“Darling!”

Belle heard a familiar voice call out as a flash of white strolled towards the two of them. Immediately a more genuine smile tugged at her lips when Jungkook stood, arm gently wrapped around her waist.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Kim.” Jungkook’s fingers gripped at her dress for a second before smoothing it down. “I hope you don’t mind if I whisk away my lady for a minute.” It wasn’t really a question from the sound of his tone and when he was already pulling her away.

“Think about my offer, Ms. Kim.” Seokjin smirked.

Belle could only get the chance to nod before she felt herself being led off towards the mansion.

“Bit of a rushed interaction.” Belle remarked as they walked into the majestic building Jeon Boyoung called her home. Instead of crème, the mansion adorned a dark wooden interior with antique hand-painted portraits of what she assumed were ancestors of the Jeon family including a modern one of Jungkooks’ extended family. The large painting was the first thing people saw when they walked in, Jungkooks’ aunt and father sitting on chairs while their spouses and children stood on the far ends.

She could easily see the mixture between Jungkooks’ parents from his mothers’ soft round eyes and small pouty lips to his fathers’ sharp jaw and intimidating brows.

“You looked like you needed a bit of rescuing.” Jungkook replied simply with a shrug following her gaze up to the portrait.

“Oh yeah he was definitely ‘talking’ me to death.” Sarcasm seeped through her tone as she walked forward towards the wide entry hall having the strong urge to scream and see if there was an echo.

“Believe me that’s his superpower.” He tried to explain as well as keeping up with her slightly excited exploration. “Seokjin got his company to the highest ranks of the elite through his eloquence. Hell he even convinced me to invest.”

“So you invest in brothels.” Belle turned around to face him now, not really caring what he did in his work since it all could be listed down into a category of inappropriate. “Did you get good discounts?”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sangria House is not just a brothel.”

“Yes yes don’t think a girl working alone in the city hasn’t heard that before on the streets.” She raised a brow. “Let me guess…it’s a respected establishment with highly trained employees who get paid a fair wage. Did I forget to mention the highest bidder gets to take away a novices’ virginity? And the fair wage only exists if you’re a full-fledged angel. Oh and they get to wear pretty dresses.” Belle gave him an advertisement happy smile before walking carefully backwards.

“You’re telling me you’ve been recruited into Sangria House before?”

Belle shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure every person who looked unemployed enough has.”

Jungkook kept glancing behind her to check if it was safe enough to be walking like that. “Guess fate wanted you to come to this place one way or another.” He smiled.

“Ah so you did get a few investor gifts.” She turned back around walking towards the flight of stairs. “What were they like?”

His eyes trailed down her body when she bounced up the stairs feeling a quick tremble. “I’ve experienced better.” Jungkook quickly caught up to the woman and grabbed onto her hand to keep her close to him for a few more moments.

Belle smirked up at him trying to back away cheekily before her back hit the wall. “I think he had a good offer.” She muttered averting her gaze a little.

“Really?” He tilted his head placing his palm on the wall next to her head. “Do you have to wear a pretty dress to come with it?”

She playfully slapped his chest. “Not that kind of offer.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but admire her every little movement as if he would lose her if he missed a second.

“He wants me to design some dresses for his angels.”

“Are you going to agree?”

Belle shrugged soothing the place she slapped lightly. “He’s ordered from Saitos’ before so—should be a good contact.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

“What?” The corners of her lips curled up already sensing what made the man look so uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Nothing…”

“Alright, I’ll just go back and talk to him again.”

Before Belle could prance down the stairs, Jungkook hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her back against the wall. One free arm leaned next to her head while he leaned down with a small smirk. “Everyone’s been talking to you today.” He brushed away the loose hair from her face before his arm wrapped around her again, making sure no space escaped between their bodies. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a minute.”

“I am an independent woman, Mr. Jeon.” She teased with a faint smirk. “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

Jungkook smiled as she played with his sharp collars. “May I—please have you all to myself for a minute, Ms. Kim?”

Belle hummed, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just for a minute.” She acknowledged in a whisper.

All he needed was her say and his lips magnetized onto hers, tasting the brownie she nibbled on earlier. Palms rubbed over the soft fabric of her blue dress to her bare arms and the back of her neck, sliding down to where he could feel the curve of her plush peach. Almost a week had passed since they last touched each other in this manner but Jungkook burned up so much, he could surpass a furnace. Kisses trailed down to her jawline.

Pausing on a soft patch of skin on her neck he bit onto it humming in satisfaction when she gasped lightly. Jungkook could listen to those sounds on a record player if he ever wanted to find peace when she was away. He couldn’t help her squeeze her whole body a little to ensure that this wasn’t all a dream. But the heat radiating together told no lie.

Soon frustration seeped in as the clothing around her felt too restricting causing his hand to sneak under the skirt of her dress. A satisfied sigh brushed against her lips feeling how warm her bare skin felt against his own almost lulling to a transient relaxation. Like nothing could go wrong at this moment.

“We can’t do that under a minute.” Belle giggled, noses nudging against each other as they intoxicated themselves in each other’s breathy laughter.

“I just missed touching you.” Jungkook whispered feeling his mind far too blurry to care about putting up a wall and sounded more calm about this situation. He loved feeling her against his skin. So much so that he had rub his hand up her hips, torso and breast after sneaking out of her skirt. Every crevice drove him insane.

Her core pooled at the firm brush against her body, lightly touching her nipple before he gently grabbed her by the neck. Eyes closed unable to focus on anything else in the hallway even if she tried, her lips practically parting on its own for Jungkooks’ tongue to explore her mouth once again.

“Jungkook! Belle! Aunt Boyoungs’ calling!”

Jungkook groaned under his throat making Belle chuckle at how desperate he got from a few naughty touches in their momentary privacy.

Fixing her dress to make it look proper again, the couple walked out holding hands towards the party with a new air of joy around them.

Patience had always been one of this strong suits. A trait many men of his stature lacked so when he excelled at it, respect for him shot up through the roof. So why was it that he could not keep his hands to himself whenever Belle so much as stood next to him? Merely a day passed since the garden party and Jungkook had already kissed every part of her face whenever he got his chance in the morning.

It didn’t help that the woman had a talent in noticing when someone was literally trembling to feel more of her. She got ready wearing nothing but a thin, satin robe causing her slightly plump thighs to peek out of the clothing. The man had to physically turn his head away so he could focus on putting his tie on without looking like a toddler doing it for the first time. Even then he still pecked her temple and cheek when he stood behind her.

Even when she finally left for her work, her small goodbye kiss lingered on his lips for most of the afternoon which meant he had to space out for a few seconds during meetings before finally answering any questions or making any demands.

Then a call rung in his phone while he sat in a car on his way for a check-in at the warehouse.

Hoseoks’ name appeared on the screen.

Heart sinking down to an abyss, Jungkook answered the phone. “What is it?”

A sigh passed from the other side of the phone. “He came back again. I’ve sent him to you now. He’s on the way to the mansion.” Hoseok sounded just about as helpless as Jungkook felt when the two quickly ended the call not wanting to waste any more time.

Postponing the check-in, the driver took him straight back to the mansion a little quicker than he was legally allowed to but they reached before Jungkook could groan in frustration. He wanted to get the whole situation over and done with. Dealing with client was already frustration as it were on a normal day but now more than ever he wished he didn’t throw away his pack of cigarettes already.

Not that it was his fault anyway since Taehyung decided to ruin the entire deal in less than a month.

Once inside the mansion Jungkook saw the hooded man on his knees with four guards surrounding him in front of the dormant fireplace. Shrugging off his blazer he slammed it down onto the floor before stomping over to him. He spotted the mans’ blood shot eyes and chapped lips, skin glistening in sweat. When he finally stood before him, a deafening silence lingered in the air.

This was what would have happened. Taehyung on his knees ready to accept his bloody fate for taking advantage of his long trained patience. The man had the shaking urge to continue with that plan. It almost worked until he remembered the soft linger on his lips again. “How long have you been taking it?” He asked in a grim tone.

Taehyung hung his head, lips pursing together.

“I asked you a question.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth, feeling his final nerve being tugged at.

“Couple of days.”

“A week is not a ‘couple of days’” His fingers curled up into tight fists. “And you had the gall to ask for more? Did you even finish it all?”

“I—I didn’t ask for that much.” His voice was meek under his breath.

Jungkook scoffed turning around for a moment to catch his fiery heaving. “You didn’t ask for that much.” He repeated the statement in his own mind and felt the lava flooding past his control. When it reached the peak of the volcano, one of his fists swung across Taehyung’s face, a crunch sound touching his ears.

The male cowered on the floor, hands over his nose as blood trickled through his fingers and his eyes looked more bloodshot than before.

“This isn’t a buy and sell anymore, Taehyung!” His voice echoed throughout the walls of the mansion. “Do you even realize your little sister lives here now? Because of you!” Jungkook spat watching Taehyung struggle to get himself back up again. “You think she’s here just so you can continue scrapping drugs for free?!”

“You’re the one who made the deal in the first place!” He shrieked through his hands.

Jungkook grabbed at his hair, forcing him to look up at the male. Blood drenched him from his nose down his neck but it only angered the man further. “I only made the deal because I thought you’d do anything to make sure your sister was safe. Even if it meant facing the real world without anything numbing you out.”

“Jungkook…” He heard a familiar murmur from behind him almost making his stomach jump up to his throat. Before he could turn back to see, the floral dressed figure already padded closer to the scene, eyes flooding with tears.

Despite the ache in his heart, the male still let go of Taehyung roughly to limp back onto the floor. “Tell her.” A growl sneaked within his voice. “I want you to tell her what you did.” He gestured towards the woman.

Belle hesitantly walked and knelt down in front of her brother as he tried to get up again. Her hands held onto his shoulders just until he was on his knees as well. A sob caught in her throat seeing the blood smeared on her older brothers’ face. His blood drenched hands attempted to hold her somehow but only ended up staining her skin and some of the lighter flowers on her black background dress. “What happened?” She whispered.

Taehyung lowered his head, biting down his bottom lip to conceal a small sob.

“Tae—” A little annoyance flew straight to her head thinning her patience to near nothingness but to be the cool headed one in the volcanic pit made from the living room, she kept her voice calm. “Tae, please answer me.”

“I couldn’t—” He sniffled, gripping onto her arms. “I couldn’t do it.”

She pressed her lips together as the tears jerked out of her, streaming down her light berry colored cheeks. Immediately the woman shook her head before wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Jungkook argued. “He had a responsibility.”

“And you made a promise.” Belle met his gaze with a subtle tremble in her tone, getting off the floor. “Addiction isn’t just going to go away.” Her voice rung soft in his ears as she padded closer to Jungkook instantly melting away most of his fury. “You could’ve done the absolute worst to me, it was still going to take time.”

His eyes twitched a little feeling the ache on his knuckles a little too prominently, desperately wishing he took a small puff of a cigarette prior to this meeting. Jungkook glared back at Taehyung who already looked like he was going to pass out from the one punch before he looked at Belle. Everything felt so much better in these few days. He saw her smiling more often and playing around that now watching her face drenched in tears and her neck streaked with blood made his chest clench in immense pain. “He’s going to stay here from now on.” He declared struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’ll have nurses and guards looking after him until he gets better. There’s no chance of him sneaking out anywhere.”

Belle watched the male gesture towards his guards who grabbed Taehyung firmly and led him towards another room through the hall next to the bar. Silence plunged back into the room as the woman tried to meet Jungkooks’ gaze again. Even if she tried to form them, no words managed come out of her. She did not know whether to be thankful or just more exhausted about this whole ordeal; the ring around her finger now felt heavier than ever.

Jungkook walked towards the bar. With a loud sigh, the male practically threw a glass onto the table before roughly pouring some golden liquid to the brim and taking a generous swig.

In small hesitant steps she stood behind the counter. Grabbing a cloth and drenching it under a tap, Belle wiped off any residue of blood on her neck and arm.

“How’re you so calm about this?” Jungkook asked solemnly.

Who knew that simple question could cause a thick lump in her throat. “I’m not calm.” Fresh tears gathered at the brim of her eyes while she cleaned out the towel again. “I’m just tired.” She sniffled feeling an invisible but heavy weight on her shoulders that she couldn’t get rid of even if she wanted to. “Really tired.”

Jungkook watched her from over his shoulder trying to drink another sip to get rid of that ache in his chest again. A few maids walked out of Taehyungs’ new room with some old sheets and bloody cloth, bowing to the two of them quickly before excusing themselves. Once the room only consisted of them, he pulled out another empty glass.

“I don’t drink.” Belle muttered, standing next to the male in front of the counter.

He turned back towards the small fridge behind them and reached inside for a plastic bottle with some red liquid inside. “You like cranberry juice?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation. The right corner of her lip twitched a little as Jungkook filled her glass up halfway. “Thank you.” She whispered, gently holding the crystal before taking a shy sip.

Jungkook sighed leaning on his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the now empty living room. “I’m really tired too.” He murmured. “It’s not really 9 to 5 job like it looks, you have to—mold it with your personal life and let it run you until finally…” He held up his glass. “This kills you… Fun old life, isn’t it? Violence, alcohol and—”

“Sex.”

“Not really getting much of that lately.”

“Don’t expect it tonight either.” Belle took a more generous sip. “Maybe next time beat people up in a warehouse like all the normal crime lords.” She gestured towards the empty space in the living room. “That was the second time.”

He looked at the empty space again with an added annoyance before hanging his head, scoffing. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

She had a tiny smirk curled up her lips before leaning to press a warm kiss on his cheek. “That’s what you get for punching my brother.” She whispered. “Too bad though.” Belle looked down at her outfit. “I really wanted to show you something.”

Jungkooks’ eyes immediately trailed down her form again, fingers twitching. “Showing me something isn’t technically sex.”

“Nice try.” Belle patted his back before leaving him in own heated mess to go upstairs. “Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

Once again he was left watching the beauty walk away from him and all he could do was take in every inch of her body and every strand of her hair until it drove him mad. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, she might just.

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

266 notes · View notes

sarcasmandships · 3 years

Text

how to save a life part 2︱spencer reid

word count: 8.7k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with a n eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, descriptions of surgery

read part one here!

Veronica readjusted her dress for what felt like the 100th time that evening. The green, silk bodice was too restrictive; her feet ached from the stiletto heels April had picked out for her. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"That is for the guests!" April hissed, smacking her arm with her tiny clutch bag.

"And the hostages," Veronica said, raising her glass to an imaginary toast.

"Amen to that," Cristina agreed, taking a long sip of champagne from her own glass.

"You two are hopeless," April said, shaking her head before storming off.

"I like angry Kepner," Cristina chuckled.

"God, I can't breathe in this thing," Veronica gasped, pulling at the top of her dress again, "I think I've got a tension pneumothorax."

"Unfortunately, if I had a needle big enough to help you, I'd have stabbed myself in the eye hours ago," Cristina said, deadpan.

Veronica gave her a shaky laugh.

"Ooo, is that Kevin Gibbs?" Cristina said, suddenly filled with a burst of newfound energy as she spied a man at the next table, "oh, he is rich rich, I'm so getting a donation from him," she grinned before dashing off to take Kevin Gibbs' arm.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she watched Cristina twirl her hair and flutter her eyelashes; she was far too good at this. Veronica was left alone at the table, tired of pretending she was interested in anything these rich, old men had to say; she pulled her phone out to scroll through Twitter.

However, as she unlocked it, Spencer's name popped up on her screen, and her shrill ringtone cut through the low-level chatter and ambient music in the room. She hastily switched the phone to silent after receiving a few pointed glares but continued to stare blankly at the screen as it rang.

She did not want to speak to him.

But she had told him to keep in touch.

Via text, not a phone call.

But what if something was wrong.

Eventually, she clicked 'accept'.

"Spencer, I told you-"

"Hi, Veronica," the voice on the other end cracked, "it's Derek Morgan. We met earlier today..."

Veronica's blood ran cold as Derek spoke to her through the phone. She could hear the piercing wail of the sirens; it harmonised with Cristina's shrill laughter as she flirted with Kevin at the next table.

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her entire body was in free fall like she was being hurled down the drop of a rollercoaster that seemed to never end.

"... they're taking him to Stafford Grace Mercy West Hospital, meet us there when you can - I gotta go."

Derek hung up the phone.

Veronica stood frozen, her body trembling and mind spinning.

"Veronica!" Jackson snapped as he strutted towards her, "you're supposed to be getting donations, not standing in a corner drinking all the champagne…."

Veronica was staring straight at Jackson's face as he ranted, but she couldn't focus her eyes enough to see his furrowed brows or flared nostrils. Her mind was spinning at hyper speed, but everything around her moved in slow motion; she gripped onto the edge of the table.

"…are you even listening to me?" he snapped his fingers in front of Veronica's glazed eyes.

"Spencer was shot. In the chest, he's on the way to the hospital now," she said in a monotone, "I have to...I have to go...I..." Veronica clutched her head in her hands; the room would not stop spinning.

"Oh my god," Jackson gulped, "of course, go, go. Do you want me to come?"

Veronica stumbled away from him and towards the door. Why was the floor moving like that?

"No," she called back to him, "this is your event you can't leave, I just- I need to go," she turned on her heel and dashed out of the door.

The hospital was just up the street. Jackson had picked a venue close by so the doctors who didn't have the day off could get there quickly after work. Veronica pushed people out of the way as she staggered up the street; her feet didn't hurt anymore. Her whole body was just pins and needles.

She burst through the doors of the ER, in her floor-length, green dress and dazzling emerald necklace, with tears streaming down her face. Sections of her neatly pinned hair had broken free; she clutched her chest as she gasped for air. It was only a matter of time before someone called for a psychiatric consult.

With most of the other attendings at the gala, the interns and residents had swarmed like locusts to get their hands on a surgical case. Veronica pushed through the sea people, looking for someone she knew – why did all the residents look the same?

Veronica scanned the trauma rooms, hoping to catch sight of his messy hair. They were full of bloodied and beaten-up people, but none of them were Spencer. She had just stumbled through the double doors to the waiting area when she heard someone call her name.

"Veronica?"

She whipped her head around to see Derek Morgan standing in front of her. Several steps behind him, she noticed Penelope Garcia, who she recognised from this morning, and several other anxious FBI agents.

"Derek," she gasped, gripping onto his outreached hands, allowing herself to stabilise slightly, "w-what happened?"

"We were chasing down the unsub and Reid...he fell and just when he was getting back up, he got hit. It was bad luck. It caught him just above his vest."

"And he's in surgery now? I didn't see him in any of the trauma rooms?"

"They just took him up; come with us. You need to sit down," he said kindly, and Veronica allowed him to guide her over to the seats.

"Hi again," Garcia squeaked, but Veronica stared straight ahead and didn't answer her.

The others tried to introduce themselves, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. They were names she knew well from Spencer's last night rants about work, but she couldn't bring herself to look at any of them long enough to put a face to the name. Derek was trying to reassure her when Veronica caught sight of a familiar resident walking past with a tablet in her hand.

"Murphy!" she barked, "get over here."

Murphy's head snapped up, and she looked around rapidly to see where the voice had come from; when her eyes finally landed on Veronica, she looked at her quizzically but shuffled over.

"Dr Grey, I thought you were at the gala-"

"I need you to look up a patient for me, Spencer Reid - came in with a GSW to the chest and should be in surgery now."

"Dr Grey, what's going on?" Murphy said slowly, her eyes darting between Veronica and the team of agents behind her.

"Just do it, Murphy!" she ordered, and Spencer's teammates looked slightly taken aback.

"Okay, okay!" she said, typing rapidly on her tablet, "he's in surgery with Dr Hunt and Dr Altman for an exploratory thoracotomy...chest x-ray showed a GSW to the chest with the bullet lodged near the thoracic aorta...he was tachycardic and hypotensive when he came in, with substantial blood loss-"

Bile bubbled up in her throat, "what OR are they in?"

"Dr Grey, I can't-"

"What O.R, Murphy?" she snapped; she gripped the edge of the plastic chair to prevent herself from strangling the resident.

"OR one!"

"Okay... OR one. OR one has a gallery," Veronica mumbled to herself, she tapped her foot against the floor and her stiletto clacked against the linoleum.

"Dr Grey, you know you can't go up there when you aren't working-"

"Murphy, do you want a medical career?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Then you'll get out of my way before I have the AMA strip your medical license," Veronica snapped; she stood up and gathered up the skirt of her dress as she began to power walk towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek called after her.

"Spencer's in OR one, that OR has a viewing gallery... I'm going to watch his surgery," she said flatly before turning away and continuing along the hallway.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator and ready to push the OR floor button that she realised that Spencer's team was directly behind her.

"What are you guys doing?" she sighed as they piled into the elevator after her.

"He's one of us. We aren't gonna hang around a waiting room if we can be there with him," the blonde woman that Veronica thought was called Jennifer, retorted.

She was ready to argue. To protest that they weren't allowed in the gallery, that surgery wasn't for the faint-hearted. But then she looked at all their faces, desperate and distressed; they looked how she felt.

So, she closed her mouth and jabbed the button for the fifth floor.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. It stopped on three, and a huddle of surgical interns tried to cram in, but Veronica snapped at them before they had the chance.

"No. You get the next one," she glowered at them, and they could only give her nervous stammers and shaky head nods in response.

Veronica rolled her eyes at them as the doors crept shut again, with her arms folded tightly across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor.

"You seem to have a lot of authority here," Hotch commented.

"I'm an attending," she said bluntly, "they're interns - bottom of the surgical food chain, their only job is to stay out of our way and try not to kill anyone."

"That seems...harsh," Garcia whispered to Derek.

Veronica whipped her head around, "a hospital like this doesn't work without a hierarchy; it's how we learn. If we don't treat them that way, then they get too confident. Would you rather have an intern perform Spencer's exploratory thoracotomy or two surgeons with years of experience who are chiefs of their respective departments?"

Garcia gaped at her, but the elevator doors creaked open, saving her from trying to respond to Veronica's scathing comment.

"The gallery is this way," Veronica grunted under her breath as she exited the elevator and crept up a short flight of stairs.

"That wasn't very nice; Garcia was only making an observation," JJ whispered to Emily as they followed Veronica.

"Who is this woman?" Emily responded, equally as confused as to why they were following this random woman around a hospital.

Derek turned round to face them, "she's Spencer's girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend!" Emily gasped, "did he ever mention a girlfriend to any of you?" she asked, looking between JJ and Derek.

"No, not once…." JJ frowned.

"He didn't tell me as much as he was forced to, that's why he's been acting so off recently, but I couldn't really get many details from him about her, so don't ask me anything - she's just worried about him like we are, she's on edge too."

Veronica burst into the gallery, which was thankfully empty. She pressed her forehead up against the viewing window and saw Spencer lying on the table. The glass was cool against her forehead, which seemed to somewhat soothe her pounding headache.

Spencer's face was draped, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his half of his rib cage. That unsettled her; she wasn't supposed to be able to see into her boyfriend's chest cavity. Veronica clung to the glass as she staggered to the intercom on the wall; she pushed the button that allowed them to hear what was being said in the OR.

"... there's a lot of bleeding here, more suction!" Dr Altman demanded.

"Right away, doctor."

Veronica flicked the switch that allowed her to be heard in the OR, "Owen," she said slowly, and he looked up at her in shock, "I need you to save him."

"Veronica, you're supposed to be at the fundraiser. What are you doing here?"

"Owen, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "I need you to save him."

"Well, of course, I'm gonna try and save him, Veronica I don't understand-"

"Oh god," Dr Altman said as she suddenly realised what was happening, "Spencer Reid... he's your Spencer. I met him at Owen and Cristina's wedding; we talked so much about the Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction I thought he was a surgeon too…."

Veronica nodded silently.

Her Spencer.

She couldn't control the sob that wracked her body. She was vaguely aware of Garcia placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, so I need you to save him," she sniffed, "because if he dies, I will literally go out of my fucking mind, and I won't be much of a neurosurgeon from the psych floor."

"Veronica, you should be up here," Owen said as he forced another clamp into Spencer's chest, "how did you even know where he was?"

"Murphy told me," she said, "but it wasn't her fault, so don't go and yell at her; I told her I'd have her medical licence taken away."

Owen paused, "you can't do that, though."

"She doesn't know that! Please just save him. I need you to save him."

"I-" Dr Altman hesitated, "we'll do everything we can, V, I promise you."

"Thank you, Teddy," she whispered through her tears; she flicked the button off again so they wouldn't be distracted by her sobs.

Veronica collapsed into a chair in the middle of the front row and kicked her heels off. Spencer's team had shuffled into the rows behind her and sat, whispering quietly among themselves and clutching onto each other.

"V-veronica," Garcia finally spoke after around an hour of near silence, "I know you're a different kind of doctor, but what are they doing? I don't understand any of these medical terms. Can you explain it?"

Veronica twisted slowly in her seat to face her, revealing her mascara coated cheeks and puffy eyes. She nodded slowly.

"They're doing a surgery called an exploratory thoracotomy; they're trying to remove all the bullet fragments from his chest cavity. Their main concern is that the bullet hit very close to the thoracic aorta, which is a major vessel that carries blood from the heart to the rest of the body."

"B-but it didn't hit his aorta, so that's good, right?"

"Right, cos' if it had, then he'd have bled out seconds after he was hit," Veronica paused to swallow the vomit creeping up her throat as she imagined Spencer's bloodless body lying in the morgue, "but the impact of the bullet creates shock waves when it enters the body. Considering the proximity to the thoracic aorta, it could weaken it and cause an aortic dissection."

"And that's bad?"

Veronica nodded gravely, "they're almost always fatal, the blood loss becomes too uncontrollable, and even the best surgeons, like Dr Altman and Dr Hunt, can't do anything," she turned back around to face the OR as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill over.

"Oh," was all Garcia could muster up.

"Those doctors, are they really the best?" Emily asked.

Veronica nodded, "Owen, Dr Hunt is head of trauma surgery, and Teddy, Dr Altman, is head of cardiothoracic surgery. They served together in Iraq; they've put soldiers half blown apart by bombs back together, if anyone can save Spencer - it's them," she reassured.

"Good to know..." Emily said in uncertainty, wrapping a comforting arm around JJ, who was silently sobbing into a tissue.

"What you need to understand is that every GSW is different, which is what makes them so difficult to fix, and when a bullet enters the body, it not only tears through structures, but the transfer of kinetic energy can cause damage to nearby tissues, like what I was saying about his thoracic aorta," she explained slowly, "that's why GSWs are so dangerous because the damaged area can ripple out around the entry wound."

"But you think he'll be okay, right?" JJ sniffed.

Veronica hesitated; she glanced back at Spencer's motionless body on the table. Her eyes scanning the monitors he was hooked up to, the constant stream of O neg he was being replenished with, the rip spreaders and clamps in his chest…

She felt sick again and had to turn away.

"I don't know. He hasn't been in surgery very long… it's just too early to say."

"There isn't anything more we can do for him now," Hotch spoke gravely, "he's in the hands of the people who are best trained to help him; we just need to trust that they are doing everything they can to save him."

Hotch's words had a sense of finality, and the room fell close to silent again with only Veronica, Garcia and JJ's sniffles and sobs echoing around the dimly lit room. Derek help Garcia's hand tightly in his own, JJ rested her head on Emily's shoulder, Hotch and Rossi sat next to each other, their faces stoic and stony. Veronica sat alone, tugging at the restrictive bodice of her dress every few seconds.

They sat like that for at least another two hours.

Suddenly, the monitors attached to Spencer began beeping rapidly, Veronica's heart seized, and she jumped to her feet to get a better view.

"What's happening to him?" Garcia whimpered; she clung onto Derek's arm as he also stood up and strained his neck to see.

"He's in DIC!" Teddy's voice echoed through the intercom, "push heparin," she ordered.

"Veronica, what's going on?" Derek asked; he tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered slightly.

"He's in DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation - it means that proteins in the blood that cause clotting go into overdrive, which actually causes excessive bleeding. If they don't control the blood loss, it's fatal."

"Lap pads! And more suction! I can't see a thing," Owen demanded as he packed Spencer's chest cavity to absorb the excess blood.

"And hang another unit of O neg, he's losing too much blood," Teddy added, "there was nothing in his medical history that indicated he was at risk of DIC...Veronica! Is he on blood thinners?"

Veronica dragged herself over to the intercom and pushed in on the button, "n-no, nothing like that, he takes zolpidem sometimes, but that wouldn't cause DIC..." she muttered.

Something clicked in her brain, and she spun round to face Derek, "you said he fell before he got shot."

Derek nodded, "that's right, the woman the unsub had abducted pushed past him to escape, and he fell down the full flight of stairs. That distracted me long enough for the unsub to get a shot in at him...."

"Teddy! He fell before he was shot, he fell down a flight of stairs, he could have a splenic injury or a laceration on the portal vein or hepatic artery- it wouldn't have been picked up on a chest x-ray. You have to do an ex-lap!"

"Veronica, we've already cracked his chest-" Owen began to protest.

"Pressures dropping, doctor!"

Veronica banged on the glass, "he'd rather be alive with two incisions than dead with one."

"Dr Hunt, you're the trauma surgeon this your call," Teddy said calmly, "but we need to do something and fast."

"We don't even know if he has a splenic injury! We can't take medical suggestions from our patient's hysterical girlfriend; that isn't how it works-"

"He's dying," Veronica wailed, "and he's going to die if you don't do something. If it were Cristina on my table, you would be begging me to do whatever it takes to save her. Teddy – you promised me you would do everything you could, and you're not doing anything! He's bleeding to death, and you aren't helping him," she sobbed against the glass.

Teddy and Owen exchanged a look.

"10 blade," Owen grimaced, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, "you better be right about this Grey – convert drapes for an ex-lap!"

"Oh God, I can't watch this," JJ said; she flopped back into her seat as Owen made a deep incision into Spencer's abdomen.

Despite dealing with horrific crime scenes daily, everyone else in the team had to follow JJ's lead as floods of blood gushed from the incision site. Garcia, who had screwed her eyes shut the minute the monitors started beeping, was rocking herself back and forth and mumbling under her breath.

"Okay, I need more suction! I'm seeing some damage to the hepatic artery," Teddy said, "can you ligate it from your side?"

"Yeah, I think so, clamp!"

Veronica wished she could be like Spencer's team. She wished she didn't have a medical degree; she wished she didn't know every possible thing that could go wrong from this point forward. She wished she could close her eyes or at least tear them away from the scene that would plague her nightmares for years to come.

She could hardly believe it when his pressure finally stabilised; she embraced the smile that crept onto her face as she watched the readings on the monitor slowly begin to climb up.

"You can open your eyes now; they ligated the artery and stopped the bleeding, combined with the heparin that should be enough to keep him stable for now."

"For now?" JJ questioned.

"He's doing well; that injury could've been fatal, but he pulled through, and that's good; it's just that I don't want to tell you he's out of the woods when he's far from it."

"It's been hours," JJ said, "how much longer before we know if he'll be okay?"

Veronica shrugged, "probably a couple more hours; they need to make sure the wall of the thoracic aorta is strong enough before they close and remove all the bullet fragments; they need to take their time."

"You'll have to forgive us, Dr Grey," Hotch spoke quietly, "we don't have the patience for this kind of thing like you do."

"It's okay, and you can call me Veronica," she smiled nervously and picked at her nails.

This was what she'd wanted all along, to meet Spencer's team. But now, she was standing in front of them and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had imagined this moment every night for months, but never in her wildest dreams did it go like this.

"Veronica then," he said stiffly, "so you said you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Yeah," she said, tearing her eyes away from the surgery in front of her to face him, "that's how Spencer and I met; he came to a lecture I gave on the Endoscopic Fenestration of Arachnoid Cysts Through Lateral Pontomesencephalic Membranotomy, cos' that's just the kind of things he does for fun," she snorted.

"Sounds like him," Hotch said, smiling fondly.

"I just can't believe he never told us about you," Emily commented, "and I can't believe we never figured it out; I mean, come on, guys, we're meant to be profilers."

Veronica gritted her teeth, "Yeah, me neither..."

"Veronica!" Jackson said, bursting through the door to the gallery, "I just got away from the gala; how's he doing?" he asked, rushing over to embrace her in a tight hug.

"He's stable for now; his temp has come up a lot since he got here, but he did go into DIC, and they had to convert to an ex-lap..."

"Owen and Teddy will be doing everything they can; he'll be okay."

She nodded, "I know...I just want it to be over; even if he was in the CCU, I could handle it, but he's lying open on an operating table, and I can't help him."

He rubbed circles on her back soothingly, "it'll be over soon. Can I get you anything?"

"Something to change into. I don't think I have any clothes in my locker, but just grab me some scrubs... I'd take a patient gown if it meant I could get out of this dress," she said, tugging again at the restrictive top.

"You got it," he said, breaking away from their hug, "April wanted to come and be with you, but Harriett's with the sitter and she had to-"

"Don't worry about it, just get me something to wear. I can't breathe in this thing."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Cristina's on her way; she'll be here soon."

Jackson shuffled out of the gallery, giving a nod and a tight-lipped smile to the others as he passed them. Veronica retook a seat.

"That was Jackson," Veronica explained, noting the confused faces of the BAU team members, "Dr Jackson Avery, he works here too, but he was stuck at the gala - we were having this fundraiser for this hospital...stupid...."

"V! I just heard; why didn't you tell me?" Cristina burst into the gallery in a similar fashion to Jackson, "I had to hear from freaking Avery that your sexy FBI boyfriend got shot?" she berated as she sat down next to Veronica.

Veronica shrugged, "Jackson was there when I got the call. You were busy turning up the charm for that rich old sleaze."

Cristina shoved her lightly, "I'll have you know that rich old sleaze donated 1.5 million dollars to this hospital," she said smugly.

"Show off," Veronica grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

Cristina stood up to peer through the glass, "supervisory sexy agent, has Owen and Teddy working on him? You need to calm down and stop chewing your nails; he'll be fine."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "you need to stop calling my boyfriend supervisory sexy agent, or you'll be the one on the table."

"Aw, come on, I'm kidding! My husband is right down there...oh my god, my husband saves your boyfriend from a GSW? That'll be such a good story for me to tell your kids."

"Can we wait to see if he makes it off the table before we start discussing our hypothetical children?"

"Boring."

Jackson returned at that moment, "sorry, I didn't know your scrub size, so I just guessed. And you didn't have any shoes in your locker, so I stole some sneakers from April, you're the same size, and she won't mind - I also brought you some of her makeup wipes," he rambled, handing her the pile of clothes.

"Stealing shoes from your ex-wife now?" Cristina teased as Jackson sat down on the other side of Veronica, "I thought pretty boy Avery was rich enough to buy his own," she cooed.

Veronica stood up and slid the scrub pants on under her dress, and pulled the scrub top over the top. Cristina unzipped her dress, and she let out a deep breath as the pressure on her rib cage was released; she shimmied the dress off and threw it over an empty chair.

"Shut up, Yang," Jackson grunted.

"Children, behave," Veronica said warningly as she slipped on the socks and shoes she was borrowing from April.

Veronica sat back down and finished wiping off the makeup that hadn't been flushed away by her tears. Jackson gripped her hand tight in his, and she smiled appreciatively at him; Cristina gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Guys, what if he dies?" she whispered as they watched Teddy and Owen work away on Spencer.

"He won't," Jackson protested, "he didn't code in the field, and the majority of GSW victims without penetrating vascular injuries survive if they get to a hospital on time."

"There is a bullet in his chest cavity! That is a penetrating injury," she blubbered.

"But it didn't directly damage his heart or any major arteries; yes, they could be weakened by force, but he's been in surgery for hours, and nothing has ruptured – plus after they close him up, we'll monitor him closely, and he will be okay," he said with a squeeze of her hand.

"Avery's right. It's far more likely he'll be a vegetable or something," Cristina shrugged.

"Yang! His best friends are right behind you," Jackson hissed.

"They are?" Cristina said, whipping her head around, "oh, hi."

Cristina gave them a wave, and they stared back dumbfounded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Emily hissed.

"I don't know, but they seem to think that Spence is gonna be okay, and that's all that matters to me," JJ answered.

"He could still die; people die from GSWs all the time. There could be complications, he could get an infection-"

"Look, Veronica, if the worst happens, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? And you know we'll all be here for you, no matter what," Jackson said, and Veronica smiled appreciatively at him.

"Thank you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Y'know, you should've married him when you had the chance - cos' if he dies and you were his wife, you'd get that life insurance. If he dies now, you'll just be poor and sad."

"Cristina!"

"No, it's okay," Veronica said with a slight smile, "it helps."

"God, talk about a dark sense of humour...."

"I think I'm just still drunk," Cristina shrugged.

"I think I'm hungover already; my head is killing me," Veronica groaned, massaging her temples.

"Want me to get you a banana bag?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, why not."

Jackson stood up and made his way across the gallery and to the door; he turned back to face the BAU team members, "can I get anything for you guys? Coffee, water…I wouldn't recommend the food, but we got vending machines."

"No, thank you," Hotch answered politely, "anyone else?"

The rest of the team shook their heads or mumbled no thank-yous in response. Jackson gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving; JJ's stare was still firmly fixed on Veronica.

"What did she mean? You should've married him when you had the chance?" she asked.

"It means that supervisory sexy agent-"

"Cristina!"

"Fine, Spencer, asked V to marry him, and she said no cos' she can't let herself be happy."

"That isn't why I said no, and you know it."

"Well, no. But your real reason is stupid, so I'm gonna say it's your self-destructive tendencies instead. Do you know what I've give to never have to interact with Owen's dumb work friends? You're getting the best of both worlds here."

"You work in the same hospital! Owen's dumb work friends are your colleagues."

"Ugh, whatever."

"You turned Reid down because of us?" Rossi questioned, speaking for the first time since they had entered the gallery.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"What's wrong with us? You didn't even meet us until today?" JJ snapped.

Veronica sighed and picked at her nails; her first interaction with Spencer's friends already wasn't going very well, and now she had to tread lightly as to not offend anyone.

"That's the problem; it took Spencer getting shot in the chest for us to meet because he refused to tell you about me; how could I marry someone when I'd never even met his friends? It's what we argue about more than anything else. We argued about it this morning actually...."

The blood drained away from Veronica's face as the events of the day flashed through her mind.

She turned to face Cristina, "oh God, we were arguing this morning about it, and again when I dropped his phone off at work - the last conversation we ever had was about that stupid argument. What if he dies thinking that I'm pissed off at him? I didn't even tell him I loved him before I stormed off," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, he's a profiler, right? Even if you didn't say it, he would be able to tell...."

"He's a genius, not a psychic, Cristina."

"She's right," Derek interjected, "before he lost consciousness, he told me to call you and tried to say something else; he kept saying tell her... he never got to finish, but I'm sure it was just that he loved you."

"He really said that?"

Derek nodded, and a weight was lifted from Veronica's shoulders, although she quickly felt uneasy again when Jackson returned, IV kit and banana bag in hand.

"Okay, I know you don't like needles, but it'll make you feel better, so give me your arm," he demanded.

Veronica huffed and begrudgingly gave him her arm; she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin, "ow! I thought plastic surgeons were supposed to have a gentle touch."

"Plastics is barely even a real speciality; Avery gives boob jobs on the daily – we do real surgeries and save lives."

"Hey! I'm also a qualified ENT, and I practically run the burn unit-"

"Guys," Veronica groaned, "can you have your little dick-measuring-contest another time? Maybe like when my boyfriend isn't lying open on an operating table?" she said, gently massaging the tender skin around her IV.

"You said you liked my dark humour!"

"Only when it's funny," she sat down again and massaged her temples "hey, I think they're nearly done," Veronica cheered.

She dashed over to the intercom, "Are you guys closing him up?"

Teddy nodded, "yeah, and then we'll be taking him up to the CCU. You should get some rest before he wakes up," she advised.

"He's going to be okay, Veronica," Owen said; she couldn't see his face under his mask, but she could tell he was smiling.

Veronica couldn't fight the grin spreading across her own face; Spencer was going to live. He was going to make it off the table. Now all she had to do was pray that he woke up because Veronica didn't know how she would cope if she never saw his eyes again.

"He's really going to be okay?" JJ whispered; she held her hands up to her lips in a prayer formation as fresh tears spilt over onto her cheeks.

Emily pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, "Hey, don't cry. The doctor said he's going to be okay."

She nodded against Emily's chest, "I know, these are happy tears – it's just I've been sitting here for the past four hours wondering what I would tell Henry if his Uncle Spence died and now, he's going to be okay, and I'm crying more than when I thought he was going to die…stupid," she mumbled.

"It's not stupid," Veronica offered kindly, "your body has been in panic mode and how that you're finally able to relax a bit, you get an emotional outburst that makes you cry – it's totally normal," she said, tentatively reaching out her hand to take JJ's.

She nodded and gave Veronica's hand a squeeze, smiling at her for the first time since they had met. The mood in the room had shifted as the BAU members slowly began to accept that their teammate was going to live, and the nervous tension began to dissipate.

"Teddy's going to close him up and then wheel him up to the CCU, Cristina are you staying or coming home?" Owen's voice echoed through the intercom.

"I'm staying obviously!" she said indignantly.

Veronica shook her head, "no, it's okay, you go home."

"V, I can't leave you here-"

"It's fine, Cristina. You're working in the morning, and you'll need to be here for rounds at 6am, and you won't be any use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived. So, go home. Besides, I've got Avery to keep me company."

Cristina gave her an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand one last time before she left the room. A wave of jealousy surged in Veronica's chest as Cristina disappeared from her line of sight; it wasn't her fault that she was going home with her husband whilst Spencer was being stitched back together. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm so sorry, V," Jackson said, holding up his phone, "it's one of my burn patients, she's got an infection, and I think I'm the only sober attending after the gala…I can send a resident-"

"No, no, it's okay," she smiled sadly, "go and help your patient; she needs you more than I do."

"Page me if you need anything," he said, kissing her forehead gently before leaving her alone with the BAU team.

She was in a room with seven other people, but she had never felt more alone. They were clutching onto each other, whispering amongst themselves and smiling; Veronica didn't have anyone.

She shuffled away from the displays of affection and picked up her dress and shoes, "I'm going to put this stuff in the attending's lounge, there's coffee in there if you want anything – and on-call room seven is always empty if any of you need to sleep. He won't be awake for a while; you should get some rest," she said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Veronica," Derek said; he nodded over Garcia's head as he held her in his arms, "I don't think any of us will get much sleep until pretty boy wakes up, though."

Veronica laughed, "pretty boy, I always thought he was exaggerating when he said you called him that. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but you can't stay in here – the interns like to hang out in here before pre-rounds, and they'll be here soon," she said before gripping onto her IV pole and swiftly exiting the gallery.

Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way to the attending's lounge, grabbing a replacement banana bag from the nurse's station on her way; Spencer was going to be okay. He was going to wake up and have his team to comfort him, fetch him jello, keep him company through the recovery and bring homemade meals to his apartment. What else could she do for him that they couldn't?

She burst into the attending's lounge and slammed the door shut behind her. She let out a heart-wrenching sob as she shoved the dress into her locker, growing frustrated and kicking it when the poufy, underlayers of the skirt wouldn't fit.

Maybe that's why he had never introduced her to the team because he already had seven people who loved him unconditionally and could give him all the love he needed. And Spencer didn't want her to know that; what could she do for him that they couldn't?

Veronica darted into the bathroom and held her own hair bag as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Maybe she was just a fuck to Spencer, an outlet to release his frustrations after a hard day. Assuming he wasn't fucking any of his teammates, that was the only thing she was good for that they couldn't give.

Derek said that his last words before he passed out were about her; he asked him to call her. He tried to give her a message – why did Veronica not share Derek's confidence that the message was I love you?

She flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out with water from the tap. Her headache was beginning to subside, but she still switched out her banana bag before she limped out of the bathroom, using the IV pole as a support.

Veronica threw herself onto the couch. She wanted to scream, or kick something else or rip her own hair out, but she simply didn't have the energy to do anything except shut her eyes and drift off to sleep. The image of Spencer's open chest cavity and the knowledge that his team were everything she was and more burned into her brain.

***

Spencer's brain was awake before his body was. He was acutely aware of people moving around his room, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to see who they were.

There was a tight sensation in his throat, and suddenly, Spencer started gagging violently.

"He's fighting the intubation!" a voice called out, "page Dr Altman."

Dr Altman. He knew that name, he thought to himself. But his brain was still too hazy from the anaesthesia to think straight. Dr Altman…something to do with cardiothoracic surgery – probably one of his doctors. But where had they met before?

He felt hands all over him, grabbing at his neck and face; there was a horrible scraping sensation in his throat, and then he could breathe freely again. He's fighting the intubation, the voice had said. That was good; that meant he was breathing on his own.

However, he couldn't appreciate the joy of knowing he wouldn't be hooked to a ventilator for the rest of his life whilst his throat ached like that. The tube had been removed, but he still felt his gag reflex at the threshold of triggering.

He really needed to get Veronica more credit for that.

His limbs were heavy, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but they wouldn't move. The muffled voices which echoed around him were beginning to become clearer; he could make out what sounded to be JJ's voice by his head.

Finally, his brain allowed his eyes to flicker open. But he immediately wanted to screw them shut again when the blinding fluorescent glare of the ceiling lights shone down on him.

"Oh my god," JJ gasped, "he's awake!"

He couldn't move his head to see her, but her worried face quickly appeared in front of his, "Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?" she asked frantically.

"Ow," he mumbled in response.

"Thank God you're okay," she said, stroking his hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You gave us a scare, pretty boy."

Spencer strained his eyes enough to see Derek standing in the corner; he leant against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest, but Spencer could clearly see the grin he was fighting.

"What happened?" he groaned, trying to readjust his body into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, don't try and move," JJ scolded lightly, "the nurse said that you'll be groggy from the anaesthesia for a while," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

"Did we get him? The unsub?"

"Yeah, don't you worry about him, kid, he's going away for a long time," Derek reassured, "he got a shot in at you before we could take him down… I'm so sorry, kid, you fell, and it distracted me long enough for him to shot you before I could shoot him."

"Hey, it's not your fault," JJ said, "it could've happened to any of us."

Spencer nodded in agreement but didn't try and speak again; his head was throbbing, and he closed her eyes again, the darkness providing some brief relief from the brilliant light above his head. But with every passing second, Spencer became increasingly aware of the dull aches in his chest and abdomen, the pain growing sharper with each intake of breath.

"How many times did I get shot?" he groaned, "I can't remember anything…but my whole body hurts."

JJ bit her lip as she continued to stroke his hair, "just once, Spence, but you fell down the stairs just before you got him and it injured…something, I don't know what – I can't remember what she said," JJ looked over to Derek for a prompt, but he shook his head in response.

"Hey, don't look at me; I didn't understand a single word any of those doctors said," Derek shrugged, "Dr Altman is coming to check on you, though, kid. I'm sure she'll explain it all to you."

Dr Teddy Altman!

They met at Cristina and Owen's wedding; Spencer could tell she was in love with the groom and distracted her with a rant on Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction. She was Veronica's friend.

Oh god, Veronica. She must be so worried – if Derek had even called her that was, she might be oblivious to his condition. Spencer was ready to open his mouth to as about her, but JJ was already speaking again before he had the chance.

"…and our resident genius will definitely be able to understand better than us," she said, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "I've never been so nervous as when we were sitting in that gallery, thank god those doctors fixed you up."

"Wait, what gallery?" Spencer asked, opening his eyes to squint at her, her words distracting him long enough to forget to ask about Veronica.

JJ paused and exchanged a look with Derek, "we hoped you wouldn't mind – we were in the OR gallery during your surgery, but we didn't actually see anything," she reassured, "none of us could actually bring ourselves to watch, but we just wanted to be there, in case anything happened to you."

"Not that we'd have been much help," Derek chuckled, "but I got you to the hospital in one piece. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight until you were stable."

Spencer nodded slowly, "how did you even get in there?" he mumbled.

"Veronica," Derek said, "you asked me to call her, and she came straight over, but she wasn't about to sit around in any waiting room, so she found out where you were…we just followed her up there."

Spencer tugged on his blanket, "so…you met her then?"

JJ nodded stiffly, "we did."

"Oh. Suppose I did ask you to call her, I don't know what I expected…."

"We didn't get a chance to talk much," Derek said carefully, "you were touch-and-go a bit in surgery, so it was a bit too tense for small talk."

JJ moved away from him and sat back in the chair next to his bed; she picked at her nails, "I don't get why you never told us about her, Spence?"

Spencer didn't answer her. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go; in fact, he was hoping he'd never have to have this conversation at all. The rational part of his brain knew that was unrealistic, but the rational part of his brain didn't seem to exist when it came to protecting Veronica.

He shrugged, "I didn't think you guys needed to know."

Derek unfolded his arms and moved out of the corner, coming to rest at the end of Spencer's bed, "didn't need to know? You've been making excuses about this to me all day, kid. And I'm not buying the - you wanted to have something to yourself - bullshit anymore-"

"You asked her to marry you," JJ said, her voice cracking slightly, "you wanted her to be your wife, but you didn't even tell us about her? Were you just going to get married without any of us there?"

"She told you that?"

Spencer had the strength to ball one of his fists; this was going horribly. The tension he had created in his hand spread up his arm and along to his chest. He grimaced as another sharp stab of pain rippled across his body.

JJ shook her head, "no, her friend mentioned it, and we overheard. I don't get it, Spence, we're supposed to be like family, and she…we didn't get to talk, but she seems nice. And she's a doctor – she's smart like you, and she obviously loves you. Did you think we wouldn't like her?"

"No, and she said no to me anyway, so it doesn't matter…."

"She only said no because you wouldn't introduce her to us," Derek stated bluntly, "that's what she said when we asked her about it and considering I didn't even know she existed till this morning, I can't say that I blame her."

"Guys, I will explain later, I promise," Spencer began as he tried to sit up in the bed, "but I need to talk to Veronica. Right now – where is she?"

"She is in a patient room down the hall," Dr Altman said as she waltzed into the room and picked up Spencer's chart from the end of his bed, "nice to see you awake, Dr Reid."

"A patient room – i-is she okay?" Spencer stammered.

Teddy peered over the chart to look at his concerned face, "she'll be fine, she's just dehydrated and a bit hungover – we've got her on an IV. Besides, the couch in the attending's lounge is not the place you want to sleep unless you want to give yourself scoliosis."

Spencer tried to move one of his legs, "I need to go see her, I need to explain everything, I-"

"You need to lay back down," Teddy said as she moved over to his bedside and pressed her stethoscope against his chest, "I need to listen to your chest, take a deep breath for me-"

Spencer begrudgingly breathed in.

"-breath sounds are clear and equal, that's a good sign," Teddy said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck, "and your latest round of labs are all within normal limits. Dr Hunt and I were able to remove all the bullet fragments during surgery, we were concerned that the impact could've weakened the wall of your thoracic aorta, but it seems unaffected."

Spencer nodded, "okay."

“We had to convert to an exploratory laparotomy mid-surgery; you had some bleeding in your abdomen which we needed to repair; that's why you have two incision sites. They will likely leave scars, I'm afraid, but the abdominal bleeding triggered a condition called DIC and would have been fatal had we not caught the bleeders."

Spencer's brain was spinning. He knew he had been in bad shape, but he really nearly died. He needed to talk to Veronica, and fast.

"…it was actually Veronica who made the connection between your fall and the bleeding. She wasn't even operating, and she saved your life," Teddy smiled at him, "I just need to take a peek at your incision sites, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Spencer winced as she lifted up his bandages to take a closer look.

"Okay, they look all good and no signs of infection. You will need at least another day for observation; I'll get the nurse to administer your post-op antibiotics, so let her know if there's anything else you need."

"He won't admit it, but he's in pain. Can he get any more morphine or something?" JJ asked, biting her nail.

"What? No, I'm fine. I don't need any more painkillers; I'm all good!"

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him, "you just had major surgery, but you don't want more pain meds?" she asked sceptically, "you aren't maxed out on anything; I can order more-"

"No," Spencer snapped, "I mean…no thank you, Dr Altman. They make me too disoriented, and I need to be clear-headed when I talk to Veronica," he said, adjusting his tone.

Teddy gave him one last suspicious look before she moved back towards the door, "okay, no more pain meds. I'll let Veronica know you're awake," she said before exiting the room, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed back into his pillows slightly. Even the brief conversation with Dr Altman had left him exhausted, so he wasn't sure how he would manage when the rest of the team flocked to his bedside to question him about his condition and Veronica.

Veronica.

That was going to be a long conversation.

JJ and Derek stayed by his side as the nurse came in to administer his antibiotics, just as Dr Altman had said.

"Hotch and Rossi had to go sort some things out with the arrest," Derek had informed him, "they said they'll stop by later when they can."

"And Emily and Garcia are in the cafeteria, we've let them know you're awake, but we didn't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors at once," JJ explained, "and Garcia really needed some sugar. She's been freaking out, Emily's trying to get her to eat something," she chuckled.

"I feel bad I caused all this stress…." Spencer mumbled.

"Course we're worried about you, Spence; we're a family. But you didn't cause us stress; it's not your fault," JJ reassured; she leaned closer to Spencer to grip his hand in hers.

"Exactly, it's the unsub's fault. You didn't choose to get shot," Derek added; he shuffled over to the bed from his corner and took hold of Spencer's other hand.

The three of them sat in comfortable and heartfelt silence for a few moments with their hands intertwined until they were interrupted by a hesitant voice in the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, I did mean to interrupt. I'll come back later…."

part 3 coming soon

sorry there’s not too much spencer in this part, i promise there will be more in part 3 when veronica and spencer have their confrontation

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

tagging anyone who commented on part 1, message me/ comment if you want to be tagged for part 3:

@dilaurantisbitch

masterlist

i also take imagine requests!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #soencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #hurt and comfort #angst #derek morgan #greys anatomy #cristina yang #jackson avery #april kepner

134 notes · View notes

whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

#ultimate note #whomst #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle

36 notes · View notes

king-finnigan · 4 years

Text

5 times Jaskier got sick and 1 time Geralt did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist!

CW: being sick, vomiting

***

He sneezes, and Geralt looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you getting sick?”

Jaskier scoffs, shakes his head, and continues prodding at the fire. “No.” He sneezes again. “Okay, maybe.”

“Hmm.”

He frowns. “Ooh, now that’s a ‘hmm’ I haven’t heard before. What does it mean?”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks away, as Jaskier sneezes again. “It means I’m not going to take care of you if you get sick.”

Jaskier sneezes again. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He rubs at his eyes, which are slightly swollen from all the sneezing. “I’ll just firmly tell my body not to get sick, then. That always works.”

“Hmm.” He recognizes that one as a slightly amused ‘hmm’, and he smiles in triumph. Over the past few years, it has become a bit of a personal challenge to make Geralt laugh or smile as much as possible, and, while low on the tier list of ‘how amused is Geralt of Rivia?’, an amused ‘hmm’ is better than nothing. At least it’s better than an unamused ‘hmm’.

Like the one he gets, now, when he suddenly dissolves into a bout of coughing. “It’s fine,” he chokes out when he finally regains his breath. “Not getting sick.”

“We’re stopping at the next inn. You’ll stay there until you get better, and I’ll get some contracts.”

He wants to whine, tell Geralt he’s fine and he’s coming along with these contracts, but when he starts coughing again, he can’t help but admit that the Witcher is right. Though, when Geralt leaves him behind at the inn the next day, he finds himself wishing Geralt would stay.

II.

He’s performing ‘Toss a Coin’ when he sneezes. The audience laughs, and he plays it off as a joke, making fun of himself, so the audience won’t, before he continues with his song. After he’s done, he graciously accepts his payment and a pint of ale, before he saunters over to the corner of the tavern, sitting down opposite Geralt.

“You sneezed,” is the first thing the Witcher says to him.

“Hello, Jaskier, what a lovely performance, Jaskier, thank you for paying for our dinner tonight, Jaskier,” he says in a mock-gruff voice. He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Really, Geralt, we talked about your conversational skills.”

“You sneezed.”

He dramatically lifts his hands. “So what? People sneeze all the time! It’s dusty in here, Witcher.”

“Your voice is rough.”

“Yes, that’s what you get for performing for three hours straight. You’re welcome, by the way.” He plonks his full coin pouch on the table, gesturing at it, eyebrows in his hairline.

“You’re snotty.”

“Well, now you’re just being downright insulting, Geralt. After all these years of me traveling by your side, and you have the audacity-“

“Jaskier. I can tell you’re getting sick.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine.”

Geralt looks at him, blinking slowly, almost lazily. His expression is almost bored, but Jaskier can tell from the little muscle that’s pulling at his lips, that the Witcher is getting annoyed. “Hmm.” Now that’s an ‘I don’t believe you for shit but I’m tired of arguing’-hmm, he can tell.

“Alright, maybe it’s not fine.” He points at Geralt. “But don’t you dare leave me at an inn again, like last time.”

“Why not?”

Cause it hurt my feelings, and I would love for you to take care of me when I’m sick. “I don’t want to miss out on any contracts and potential inspiration.”

“Hmm.” An ‘I can tell you’re lying’-hmm.

He simply changes the subject, for now, and hopes he doesn’t get sick in the next couple of days. He thanks all his lucky stars when he doesn’t.

III.

He tries to keep quiet as he leans one hand against the tree, the other on his stomach as he retches, emptying the contents of his stomach in the leaves. He must’ve eaten something bad, or caught a stomach bug. He decides it doesn’t really matter, though, as another wave of nausea rolls over him. He gags again, trying to not make any sound.

Of course, it doesn’t work, and he soon hears Geralt’s voice behind him. “Jaskier.”

He closes his eyes, trying to keep down the bile that rises in his throat. “I’m fine.” The clipped and strained sound of his voice begs to differ.

“Hmm.” A ‘not even Roach would believe that’-hmm. Then: “Are you done?”

He holds up a finger, chokes down one last gag, before he stands up straight, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m fine, let’s go.”

He turns around to find Geralt frowning at him, confused. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No. We’re not going anywhere but back to camp.”

He sighs. “I’m fine! We can go to the next town, don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. Once again a ‘hmm’ he can’t identify. Strange. “Come on, Jaskier.”

He sighs, but follows Geralt back to camp, laying down on his bedroll when the Witcher motions at it. He does have to admit, laying down makes him feel a lot better, and pretty soon he finds himself dozing off to the rhythmic sound of Geralt sharpening his blades.

When he wakes in the morning, the Witcher gives him a piece of… some sort of root. “Ginger,” the Witcher explains roughly. “Helps.”

Jaskier shrugs and eats it. It doesn’t taste entirely pleasant, but it does make him feel better, and by midday, he’s ready to set out on the road again.

IV.

“You’re limping.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Hmm.” Another ‘I don’t believe you’-hmm. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Jaskier stops walking when he no longer hears Roach’s hooves on the dusty path behind him, and he turns around. “Nothing! It’s really fine, there’s nothing going on. I appreciate you worrying, though, it’s very endearing.”

“Jaskier.”

He sighs, then shrugs. “Okay, maybe I got a cut on my leg last week that healed badly. So what? I assure you I’m perfectly fine, Witcher.” He starts stammering when Geralt dismounts Roach, stalking towards him. “A- and there is absolutely no reason for you to walk towards me, in- in a vaguely threatening manner- Geralt!”

He lets out an angry huff when the Witcher bends down, yanking the leg of his breeches up. “Hmm.” An ‘I’m very angry right now, but not at you’-hmm. “It’s infected.”

He shrugs again, pointedly looking everywhere but the reddened skin that surrounds the cut. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about, r-really, and-“

He scrunches his face in confusion when Geralt lays a hand against his forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Get on Roach.”

“Geralt, as much as I have longed for you to say those three words for the past ten years, I assure you I’m perfectly fine.”

“Get. On. Roach.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright! Melitele’s tits, Geralt, if I’d known you’d kick up such a fuss over a simple flesh wound, I would’ve been more careful.”

“Hmm. You should be.”

He sighs, rolls his eyes, as he climbs on Roach. Geralt climbs on the horse behind him, and Jaskier tries to fight the furious blush that starts spreading across his cheeks at the feeling of Geralt’s chest against his back. They set out to the nearest town, where the Witcher gets a room at the inn and drags him to the herbalist for something against the infection.

The ointment the old lady gives them works wonders, and within two days, the infection has cleared.

It’s hard to breathe. Harder to move. Opening his eyes for more than two seconds isn’t even an option, anymore, and every time he does manage to pry his eyelids apart, the world is swimming around him, making bile rise in his throat. He’s hot. No- he’s cold. But now he’s hot again, and he’s sweating, but he’s also shivering, and good gods, what did he do to deserve this?

He sighs when he feels something cold and wet and rough against his forehead, seeping away some of the heat. He doesn’t know whether the droplet that slides down the side of his head is sweat or water, but he decides it doesn’t matter when a bout of coughing wracks through his body.

He’s tired, he’s so bloody tired, but he can’t fall asleep when the temperature keeps changing from hot to cold to hot again, when his lungs keep constricting in his chest pathetically, making him cough and wheeze, desperate for any gulp of air he manages to suck in. The shivering becomes uncontrollable, unbearable, even though he’s sweating, still. He finally manages to pry open his eyes, finding the room around him blurry and dark. He looks around, desperate for anything recognizable, anything that doesn’t give him the feeling that he’s floating in a vast ocean of his own goddamn sweat. Finally, he finds something silver, to his right.

“Geralt,” he manages to croak out, desperately gasping for breath soon afterwards.

“I’m here.” He could cry at that familiar voice, and he might actually be, when he feels another droplet slide down the side of his head.

“I feel like shit.”

“Hmm.” And amused ‘hmm’. But slightly worried as well. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“It hurts.” It does. Everything hurts. His muscles hurt, his lungs hurt, his head hurts, his eyes hurt. It fucking hurts.

Someone wipes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, knuckles trailing down his cheek lightly, and he figures someone else must be in the room because Geralt would never be this gentle with him. It’s already a bloody miracle he’s still here, really. “I know, Jaskier. I know. Try to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Will you be there? When I wake up?”

“Hmm.” That’s a ‘yes’-hmm.

He sighs, his lungs aching. “Good. Cause I don’t want to wake up at all if you’re not there.” His eyes drift closed again, and he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness.

---

When he wakes up, he finds Geralt next to the bed, stuffed into an entirely too small chair, asleep. No way the position he’s in is comfortable – his neck craned at an awkward angle, his back barely supported by the hard wood. But he’s there, just as he had promised to Jaskier.

The bard smiles, and reaches out, pushing at Geralt’s knee. The Witcher wakes, amber eyes widening when he sees Jaskier. He immediately bends forward, laying his hand against Jaskier’s forehead, eyes studying his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better.” He smiles. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.”

He laughs softly, eyes drifting closed again, sleep pulling at him limbs. “That, you did.” He shivers, the heat of the fever no longer keeping him warm. “Geralt, I’m cold.”

“There are no more blankets.”

He pouts, reaches out, eyes still closed. “You’re warm.”

He hears a long-suffering sigh, then the creaking of the chair. Footsteps across the room. He feels the dip of the bed behind him, feels strong arms closing around him, and he sighs in content, before frowning. “Won’t you get sick?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

“Okay,” he whispers, before falling asleep in Geralt’s arms.

---

By the time they finally leave the inn, several days later, neither of them has mentioned what happened, and Jaskier doubts either of them will.

+ I

He doesn’t think much of it when Geralt coughs a few times. He does find it strange when it happens more and more in the next few days. He grows suspicious when a fine sheen of sweat appears on the Witcher’s forehead, even if he says he’s fine and tells Jaskier to stop fussing over him like that, he’s just hot, is all. He’s had enough when red spots start to litter Geralt’s skin.

He forces the Witcher to go to an inn, and he’s glad he did, by the time they reach it. Geralt’s hunched over Roach’s neck, sweat dripping from his brow, his skin so spotted with red he almost looks sunburnt. Jaskier barely manages to get him up the stairs, and immediately drops him on the bed, where Geralt lays very still, staring up at the wooden ceiling, breathing heavily.

Jaskier helps him out of his armour, uncovering more and more red spots as he works his way down to Geralt’s boots.

“I’m fine,” Geralt rasps to him. He doesn’t believe it for shit.

“Yeah, no you’re not, Witcher. Looks like you’ve got yourself some measles.”

Geralt scoffs, though it sounds more like two pieces of sandpaper rubbed together. “Witchers don’t get measles.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, taking a washcloth, wetting it with some water from his waterskin. “Well, you did, so I suggest you change your views on that, Geralt.” He sits down on the side of the bed, gently laying the washcloth over Geralt’s brow, softly pressing it down. “You’re burning up,” he whispers.

“It’s fine.”

He smiles. “Go to sleep, Geralt. Get some rest.”

The Witcher sighs. “Hmm.” A ‘fine, alright, I’ll listen’-hmm. “I’m cold.”

Jaskier laughs softly, climbing over Geralt, laying down on his other side, hugging him to his chest. “Better?”

Geralt shakes his head frantically, weakly pushing at him – the fever’s clearly already taking a toll on him. “You’ll get sick,” he rasps.

“I had the measles as a kid. I’ll be fine, Witcher.”

“Hmm.” A content ‘hmm’. Then, suddenly: “Thank you, Jaskier. I love you.”

Geralt’s breathing evens out, as Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on his Witcher. Geralt is fast asleep, breathing deep and steady, face relaxed from its eternal frown. Jaskier smiles, laying down again, pulling his Witcher closer. “I love you too,” he whispers. Of course, Geralt doesn’t hear him, but he’ll say it again when he wakes up.

He’ll say it a million times if he has to – and he would mean it every time.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #500 followers celebration #5 + 1 things

1K notes · View notes

vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART IX - I refuse to believe that there is no Autumn Court equivalent for Calanmai, so they celebrate Samhain. Just a warning that Eris is high and drunk for quite a bit of this part and there are a bunch of other people there that are high and drunk as well. Thanks for reading!

lol yeah ive always wondered about calanmai in other courts!!! i love this idea sm

Prince of Ashes. Part IX.

masterlist.

*changed Samhain to Autumn Equinox

Eris felt long fingers drag through his hair, felt nails scrape down his chest, felt lips trace the curve of his throat. Eris leaned his head back on the shoulder of the male behind him, not bothering to stop his moan. The female between his legs licked his neck, the other one at his side, fingers still tangled in his hair, pulled his head towards her. Eris smiled against her lips.

He briefly thought of everything he had to do, a million things he’d been ordered to do, but as soon as the thought entered his mind the sound of someone speaking wrenched his thoughts from it all. “Tell us, my prince, what you want,” the male’s voice was low, silken, as he murmured the words, his lips pressed to the arch of Eris’s ear.

Eris laughed, a snorting funny thing, eyes crinkled with joy and cheeks flushed, “I’m not sure.” Eris wanted many things. His eyes fluttered shut as one of the females placed her hand above the waistband of his pants, the other female pulling his shirt open with curious fingers, the male kissing the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Eris?”

Eris’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Lucien’s voice, he grinned up at his youngest brother, “My greatest burden,” he beamed, but his words sounded funny, as if they were being dragged out of his mouth. Eris breathed a small giggle, his head feeling heavy as he leaned it back again with a sigh. Eris purred as someone’s hands traced the sharp lines of his collarbones. He should have been embarrassed that such a sound had escaped him, but he actually found it quite funny.

“Stop that,” Lucien growled.

Everyone around him froze, and Eris cackled, “Don’t listen to him,” he managed between his laughter, “No one listens to him.”

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien mumbled to no one in particular.

“Well, that doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Eris felt Lucien grab his arm.

“Get up,” Lucien said, voice serious. Eris didn’t understand why his brother was in such a foul mood.

“Must you ruin our fun,” said the male behind Eris, his hands still on Eris’s chest.

“Yes I must,” Lucien said matter of factly. Lucien hauled Eris onto his feet, one of Eris’s arms around his shoulders as he kept his older brother upright.

“Awwwww, don’t go, prince,” one of the females pouted.

Eris flashed her a grin, “Later.” A promise he didn’t necessarily intend to keep, but he liked the way she giggled at his conspiratory wink in her direction.

“What the actual fuck,” Lucien was glowering, “Are you doing?”

Lucien had gotten very tall, Eris noticed, “Having fun.”

“Looks like you’ve succumbed to madness.” Eris had never felt so happy, he didn’t mind that Lucien had just insulted him. “You know you shouldn’t be doing things like that in the middle of the fucking courtyard,” Lucien sounded much too serious, “Father might see you.”

“I was off to the side,” Eris corrected, a stupid smile still on his face.

“And what of everyone else in the courtyard?” Lucien hissed.

“It doesn’t matter on this day,” Eris nodded, speaking to Lucien as if he should have known. “That’s sort of the point of it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lucien ignored his brother’s question and asked him another one. “Have you forgotten that we need to be ready in less than a couple hours for the most important holiday of the Autumn Court?”

“No,” Eris pushed himself off of Lucien, “I have not.” Eris had loved the Autumn Equinox in his youth, he’d been able to try new things - do whatever he wanted to do - all with the excuse that the day’s magic was the cause, but things had changed once he’d gotten a little older. And while he had been feeling very happy a moment before, he was feeling troubled now. He shook his head, shaking away those negative emotions and trying to stay balanced and upright on his own.

“Eris—”

“I’m fine,” Eris smiled again, but Lucien did not return his grin. Eris wasn’t shocked, Lucien was being very boring. Eris only managed to walk a couple steps beside Lucien before he fell to the ground, laughing the whole time. He curled the fingers of one hand into the grass, nails digging into soft earth, the other hand went to his stomach. Sprawled on his back and staring up at the sky, Eris was shaking with silent laughter, he couldn’t help it.

Lucien’s concerned face appeared in his line of sight. Eris stopped laughing rather abruptly. Lucien, the rays of the sun shining behind his head, made it look as though he had a halo of light surrounding him. Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucien looked very familiar, the person Lucien looked like right at the front of Eris’s mind… Lucien knelt down next to his oldest brother, “Eris, you alright?”

Eris grinned, “I’ve never been better, fox.” Eris was still half on the ground, but he sat up, Lucien and him nearly at eye level.

Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek, before he spoke. “You’re really out of it, aren’t you? Just absolutely wasted?”

“I am not,” Eris assured him.

“If I ask you something, you’ll answer honestly?”

“You know what they say,” Eris thought Lucien’s hair looked very bright, and he raised a hand to touch it. “Only madmen and drunkards tell the truth.”

“I think Rufus is the only one who says that.” Lucien’s brows furrowed, his young face troubled as he almost pleaded with Eris. “Why do you push me away? Maybe you’ll give me an honest answer like this.”

Eris smiled a crooked grin, hand on the back of Lucien's head. “I’m protecting you,” Eris whispered, just in case anyone was listening.

Lucien didn’t look like he believed his older brother. He frowned, “You have pixie dust on your face.”

Eris shook his head, hoping that if he looked like he didn’t know what his youngest brother was talking about, maybe Lucien would believe him. “Never touched the stuff,” Eris said, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brows. Eris hoped he looked serious.

“Evidently,” Lucien gently wiped at Eris’s nose and cheek with the sleeve of his dark red jacket.

Brilliant, Eris thought, glad Lucien had believed him. He’d have been a real hypocrite considering how Eris had always told Lucien, and Rufus too, never to take faerie powders.

“Thank the Mother we have fire in our blood, should burn it out of your system before the ceremony.” Lucien helped Eris to his feet once more, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

Eris looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes, “You’re very observant,” Eris frowned.

He wasn’t as happy as he’d been a few moments ago. He could have sworn he’d been wearing boots when he’d first gone to the courtyard.

Lucien dragged Eris through the halls of The Forest House, not even stopping when their mother worriedly asked them what had happened. Eris had flashed his mother a sleepy smile as Lucien waved off her concerns. Stumbling into Lucien’s room, Lucien gently sat his brother atop the heavy comforter of his bed.

Eris was leaning on his side, bare feet dangling off the side of the bed as he propped himself up on an elbow. He heard Lucien shuffling around the room, but he didn’t know what his younger brother was doing. Eris was starting to feel a constant, pounding pain in the back of his head. He groaned as he raised a hand to his forehead, eyes clenched shut.

“Drink,” Lucien ordered, shoving something right up to Eris’s face.

Some of Eris’s senses were starting to return and he nodded, knowing that water usually flushed pixie dust out of someone’s system. Eris hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. He grabbed the pitcher out of Lucien’s hands greedily, chugging the water. Some of it spilled, dripping down his chin, his neck, his chest. Eris could barely breathe, his focus solely on drinking as much water as he could and as fast as possible.

Once he’d finished with the water, Lucien took the pitcher from him and went back into the bathroom. Eris heard him turn the faucet on.

Eris’s head was still swimming, but the world was starting to get back into focus. Eris pressed his face into one of Lucien’s many pillows, groaning into the fabric. He was starting to feel a bit like a fool, especially since he had never wanted Lucien to see him like this.

“You sober?”

Eris mumbled his response, the sound muffled by the pillows.

“More water?”

Eris shook his head, afraid he’d hurl on all the revellers later if he drank anymore. Eris felt the bed dip as Lucien sat down. Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder. “Fucking hells, fox, remind me to never do that again.”

Lucien chuckled, sounding relieved, “You should take more of your own advice, Eris.”

Eris, in his youth, had found himself experimenting with pixie dust. There was a certain appeal to being stupidly happy and ridiculously unbothered all the time. He breathed a laugh, “Good that you came looking for me, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t have been a little funny if I wasn’t there for the ceremony.”

“It would have been a disaster,” Lucien said, and Eris could hear the smile in his voice. “Let me get ready, you wait here.”

Eris was starting to feel like he was in control again. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts. Copper pixie dust and golden faerie wine were staple products for a good Autumn Equinox celebration. Eris hadn’t had so much pixie dust since before Rufus had been born, running a hand through his hair, Eris couldn’t help thinking that he was definitely going a bit mad.

Eris wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go out and celebrate the Autumn Equinox early, but it might have just been to give him some semblance of control on a night where such ancient magic made all the revellers at the event wild - beastly. Even if Eris didn’t necessarily want to participate in the celebration, it was expected of him, expected of all his brothers.

Eris moved up off the pillows, his face still feeling hot from the effects of the pixie dust, only for Lucien to throw a black, sleeveless shirt at him. “You have something all over yours,” Lucien grinned, having changed into Autumn Equinox black, “Something that is decidedly not pixie dust, correct?”

Eris frowned looking at the glittering copper powder on his fingers and where his black shirt was supposed to lace, “Correct.” Eris knew his cheeks were still red from everything he’d taken, but he was also aware of the fact that he’d become even more red in embarrassment. He was glad Lucien hadn’t thought to mention the other revellers Eris had been with. He didn’t necessarily want to explain himself to his youngest brother.

His head was still pounding, but Eris managed to tug his shirt over his head, fingers shaking slightly as he tied the laces. Just as Eris pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, the door to Lucien’s room swung open.

Rufus grinned, “Found him, fox?” Three shimmering golden lines were painted on the right side of his face, starting above his brow and ending at his jaw, as was tradition on the Autumn Equinox for all of the unmarried fae.

Lucien looked at Rufus through the mirror on his dresser, humming in response as he dipped three fingers into a small pot of that golden paint, slowly dragging them onto his face as well. The paint shined bright against his light brown skin. “Completely wasted and nearly incoherent.”

“That’s greatly exaggerated,” Eris grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Rufus shook his head, Lucien’s bed making a funny creaking noise as he threw himself onto it. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “doubtful,” flashing Eris a smile as he said more clearly, “I would pay a whole lot of money to have been alive in your youth.” Russett eyes flaring with amusement, he added, “I have a feeling Micah, Lagos, and Widge have understated your affinity for getting into trouble.”

Eris briefly wondered what the fuck they’d told Rufus, knowing very well that he’d done many questionable and embarrassing things. He shook his head, “I feel like shit.”

“Of course you do,” Lucien shot his eldest brother an amused look, “Think you’ll be able to walk on your own later?”

“Very funny,” Eris said, pulling on a pair of Lucien’s black boots. They were a little tight, but he guessed they’d probably be lost at some point that night anyway.

Lucien sat on the bed again, the pot of paint in his hands. “Here, hold still.”

Eris watched as Lucien dipped his fingers into the golden paint, grabbing hold of Eris’s chin and gently painting the three straight lines on his face. “Cauldron, you’ve gotten big,” Eris muttered.

“Don’t move,” Lucien snapped, “I’ll mess up.”

Eris rolled his eyes, staying quiet, but he continued to watch Lucien. Lucien’s hair had gotten very long, his jaw very square, his face very sculpted. He was as tall as Eris, but much broader. He looked all grown up, having none of the softness in his features that Eris could remember or any of the sharp angles that the rest of his brothers had.

Lucien finally moved back, flashing Eris a smile. A smile Eris recognized.

Eris blinked a couple times, wondering if perhaps he was hallucinating. Or if he was going completely mad. Or if perhaps he wasn’t as intelligent as he liked to think. All three were perfectly good explanations for why Lucien looked almost exactly like Helion Spellcleaver when he smiled. Eris had never asked his mother who Lucien’s father was - he’d never really cared. Eris had always assumed it had been a random courtier, or one of the High Lord’s guards.

He definitely hadn’t thought his mother had been having an affair with the heir of the Day Court. But even Eris’s still-foggy mind thought that it made a whole lot of sense. It would explain Lucien’s magical abilities appearing at such a young age, and why Helion preferred to ignore them all, and why his mother tried to avoid the Day Court.

Eris made a strange sounding choked noise. If he hadn’t spent nearly half the day drinking, he might have been able to control the shock from showing on his face. His jaw went slack as he stared at Lucien in abject, dumbfounded horror.

Lucien looked slightly troubled as he asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Eris?”

“Maybe he’s about to throw up,” Rufus offered. “I’m fine,” Eris lied. His mother and Helion Spellcleaver had gone off and had a love child, and he most definitely was not fine.

Eris was finding it very hard to believe that no one else had noticed. Someone was bound to find out. Eris wondered if Helion knew, or if he’d guessed. If he’d known and hadn’t come for Lucien, hadn’t come for their mother, Eris didn’t know what he’d do. Eris didn’t like killing people, but he decided he’d make an exception for Helion if he’d known that his son was stuck in the most savage of courts with Beron acting as his father, and had sat back and done absolutely nothing.

Or he wouldn’t kill him. Lucien might not be too pleased with him if he ever found out. And Eris didn’t actually believe Helion was horrible enough to completely abandon his own son. Eris decided that all he needed to do was make sure Lucien didn’t smile anymore in public. With a sigh, Eris flopped back onto the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, not really wanting to think anymore. He’d thought enough for the day.

He was going to have great fun at a giant orgy later that night and drink himself stupid after the ceremony. If he snorted enough pixie dust, maybe he could convince himself that he’d dreamed the whole thing up.

“Eris,” Lucien started, “Do you need some more water?”

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, they even sounded the same. “My life is a joke.”

Eris could hear the grin in Rufus’s voice, “The Mother looks down at you and laughs.”

Eris honestly believed that was the case.

46 notes · View notes