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eupheme · 5 months

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— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope.

You hadn’t.

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure.

It doesn't fucking matter.

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you.

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy.

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic.

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat.

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals.

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in.

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you.

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together.

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound.

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you.

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough.

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead.

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber.

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones.

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into.

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them.

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm.

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs.

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free.

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest.

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again.

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way.

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye.

You both know how this will go, when you get back home.

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart.

Maybe he’d show.

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after.

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart.

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge.

No one was coming for you.

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin.

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him.

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls.

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below.

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience.

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret.

Comin' after a girl then, too.

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind.

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago.

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back.

But he's never much liked being underground.

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through.

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that.

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you.

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons.

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow.

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet.

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth.

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently.

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all.

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away.

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation.

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes.

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after.

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck.

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down.

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.

His whistle echoes in the chamber.

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him.

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery.

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death.

It rankles him, teeth set on edge.

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice.

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember.

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that.

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck.

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice.

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers.

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back.

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been.

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you.

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him.

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor.

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash.

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires.

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second.

Always too goddamn slow.

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado.

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired.

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door.

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him.

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back.

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast.

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought.

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long.

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices.

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat.

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched.

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments.

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal.

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting.

He had blown through them like it was nothing.

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower.

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement.

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head.

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs.

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did.

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you.

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years.

You��re not able to resist.

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw.

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering.

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer.

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands.

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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centrally-unplanned · 8 months

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Ratfic version of Omelas where I take over the city and marshal its perpetually lucky, incorruptibly healthy, impeccably orderly population into a military-economic war machine, perfect process engineering and uncomplaining 16 hours shifts outputting weapons by the truckload to be handled by men with unfailing morale and immunity to battlefield disease and rot. The Omelegions brick by brick conquer the neighboring nations, dismantle their cities, and relocate their populations back to the capital, their complaints magically washed away by the soothing, brackish tears staining the pitted cheeks of our war machine's heart as soon as they cross the border. Dense urbanization is promoted alongside mass-scale hypertransit projects, rendering each new district such a teeming mass of socioeconomic interconnections that the magic of Omelas is forced to extend its blessed embrace mile and after inexorable mile, still powered by the hacking sobs and blood-stained fingernails of a single child. All shall be Omelas, nation by nation, from commercial center to industrial district to residential exurb, until the city coats the entire planet and the Ecumenopolis of Omelas is born. Earth is no more, there is only Omelas, and the despair lancing on loop through every synapse of our Child-Emperor's brain is mathematically, objectively, as officially calculated in the holy ledger of the Ministry of Utility, reduced to infrequent specks of morality in the eyes of the one hundred trillion residents, unnoticed in their bliss.

And then "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" will have to choke on their insufferable self-righteous bullshit because they have nowhere to walk EVERYWHERE IS OMELAS NOW BITC-

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faun-the-fawn77 · 4 months

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"ֆɦɛ ӄɛɛքֆ ʍɛ ʊք"

Adam x F!Sinner!Reader

Genre: SMUTTY SMUT

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Whipped!Adam, OOC Adam, cunnilingus, nipple play, man-handling, creampie, a bit of orgasm denial, uhhh thats it? Idk what else to add...

Desc: When Adam was ordered to get intel on that stupid redemption hotel, he cursed Heaven. He hates Hell. He hates sinners. But... what happens when a tempting offer is introduced to him? And what if he wants more?

Note: My first time writing smut... oh boy... Let's hope this turns out good? Also Adam gets kinda...ooc? I feel like he's only kind and lovie towards his partner so... I tried with this one;(

She’s got me nervous

Talkin’ a hundred miles an hour

She’s more than worth it

I swear she smells just like a flower

I’d fall to pieces if I went anywhere without her

I love when she says, “What’s wrong with right here on the counter?”

A cloaked figure made their way through the streets of Pride. No one even glanced at the figure that was kicking rocks around and grumbling to themselves. Slipping into an alley, the figure leaned up against a brick wall of some building they didn’t catch the name of. Pulling their hood down to catch a breath of… air.

Adam was done. He wanted to go back to Heaven and tell Sera to fuck off and do this herself if she wanted intel. He pulled out his golden cased phone and sent a message to Lute, his friend that helped keep him in check and lead the exorcist army.

Heels clicked down the alley Adam was in. He quickly pulled his hood up but he wasn’t quick enough to hide his face from the demon that caught sight of him.

“Well, I didn't know that angels were allowed down here. What’s up with you, handsome?” The voice was silky. Smooth like chocolate. Adam turned towards the voice and he choked on his own saliva. The demoness standing before him was beautiful. Her eyes lidded and a smirk played on her black stained lips. Her makeup was more on the goth side with black lipstick and dark colours for her eyes. Her outfit was what made Adam dart his golden eyes back up to her face. She wore a black mini skirt with fishnet tights, black heeled combat boots and a maroon crop top that showed more cleavage than what Adam was used to in Heaven.

“Like what you see, honey?” Adam was nervous. He was never the type to be nervous but something about this demoness made his heart beat irregularly and his stomach fill with thousands of butterflies.

“I- uh- ye- yes… Wait n-” The unnamed demoness chuckled at his stuttering and strutted closer to him. She was a couple heads shorter than him so she had to look up to see his face.

“The names Y/N. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Adam.” Adam had no thoughts. No quip. No nothing to tell her. The smell of flowers, he didn’t know which ones, invaded his nose when she was closer.

“You can’t be seen alone down here. Why don’t you come with me?” Y/N tilted her head as she smiled at him. Adam gulped and shakily nodded his head. Where was his brash and confident self? Why did he so easily fall for this temptress?

After getting to know her for a few days, Adam always showed up at her apartment to crash or hangout. He was still nervous around her and when she flirted with him, he lost all confidence to flirt back.

Today was different. Today, Adam wanted to flirt with her. He’s been abstinent for a while and he assumed that if he just got intimate with her, then he would go back to normal and he could just ignore her.

“Hello, handsome. How was scouting out the hotel today?” Y/N had her back towards him as she focused on making coffee. Adam stood without answering her. He silently walked towards her and when she was about to turn around to ask what was wrong, Adam trapped her between him and the counter.

“Let’s not talk about that. You look…so fucking hot today,” Adam growled out. Y/N had a smirk on her lips. She turned away from her coffee and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers finding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” Adam felt his confidence shake a bit before he steeled himself.

“Right here?”

“What’s wrong with right here on the counter?” She quipped. Adam smirked. He li- no- loved her. He loved what she did to him.

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Adam dove in and kissed her roughly. He heard her moan into the kiss and felt her fingers grip tightly on his hair. She was so, so delicious. He swiped his tongue across her plump bottom lip, asking for entrance. She granted him access and he pulled her hips closer to his as his tongue explored.

This was so much better than any of those groupies he had up in Heaven. Actually, he was pretty sure this was Heaven. She tasted divine.

He groaned into her mouth and gripped her hips tightly, humping his clothed dick into her pussy. The moan she let out almost made him cream his pants. He broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck. Her grip on his hair loosened as she began to run her lithe fingers through his hair.

“Adam…” Her breath was airy. Adam sucked on a spot that made her moan out. He attacked the spot for a few before he was satisfied that it would leave a mark. The first of many this night.

Y/N tugged his head up and made him look her in the eyes, “Take your robe off.” Adam nodded and swiftly pulled his iconic robe off over his head, mussing up his already floppy hair.

“Gorgeous…” Y/N breathed out. He watched as she reached out and ran her soft hands along his shoulders and down his pecks, stomach and to his pants. He knew he’s put on some weight since Eve. He was a bit self conscious but in this moment, Y/N made him feel anything but.

“Kiss me.” And Adam did just that. He grabbed her hips, running his calloused hands up her waist and under her cropped shirt to cup her breasts. She had no bra on and he could feel the metal that pierced her nipples. He moaned loudly. He was the only one in Heaven with body modifications. Having a partner who also did? He was on cloud 9.

He brushed his thumbs over her pert nipples. She moaned loudly into the kiss and gripped his shoulders. He played with her tits for a few more seconds before pulling away and ripping her shirt off her. The pieces fell to the floor in piles of ripped fabrics. Adam pulled her in and trailed kisses from her lips, jaw, and down to her collar bone. He lowered to her breasts and finally started to lick and suck on her nipples, the piercings cold in his mouth.

“Adam, please!” Y/N moaned loudly. She gripped onto the hair on the back of his head and pushed him closer to her breasts. Adam groaned and flicked the bud with his tongue and the other one he used his fingers to flick and pull.

Adam pulled away and trailed more kisses down her stomach and stopped at the top of her shorts. He unbuttoned them and yanked them down. She went commando today.

“My God, are you this wet only for me?” Adam brought a hand to her dripping pussy and ran a finger through her slit. She moaned out incoherent words, her grip tightening in his hair. He chuckled and leaned his face closer to her pussy, his breath causing her to shudder.

Adam stuck his tongue out, snapped his fingers, and his original gold tongue piercing was replaced with a vibrating one. He brought his mouth up to her pussy, licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit.

Y/N’s knees buckled. Adam wrapped his arms under her and gripped her to lift her onto her counter. He spread her knees and dive right back in.

“Oh Satan, Adam, please, more!” Adam hummed and the vibrations from his voice paired with the ones coming from the tongue piercing caused her to moan loud and voice out, “AH~ I’m cumming! Adam ple-”

Adam pulled away and licked his lips. His stubble and cheeks covered in her essence. He pulled his boxers down to reveal his erection. He could see Y/N drooling at the sight.

“Like what you see, gorgeous?” He threw her earlier words abc at her. She nodded and went to drop to her knees but Adam kept her on the counter.

“Later. Right now, I need my dick inside you.”

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

She Keeps me up(I keep you up)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

The next morning, Adam stirred awake. He rubbed at his eyes and opened them slightly. He looked around and sat upright when he noticed that he wasn’t in his room. The walls here were painted a blood red with some devilish decorations around.

Adam jumped when he turned and saw a figure under the blankets next to him. He sucked in a breath and carefully lifted the blankets off the figure's head to see who it was. He let out a breath when he saw it was just Y/N.

Wait.

Adam did a double take and his eyes widened. Oh no. No, no, no! This was NOT supposed to happen! He was sent here to see what Lucifer’s spawn was up to with that dumb hotel of hers! NOT to sleep with the scum of the Earth!

Adam tumbled out of bed, snapped his fingers to put his robe on, and raced out of the demoness’ apartment. He stumbled out onto the street and looked both ways to see if anyone saw him before he dipped into a nearby alley to get his cloak on and cover his face with the hood.

“Oh my God, Lute and Sera are going to fucking kill me! He tried to call Lute but he cursed when he noticed his phone was dead. He about chucked it at the wall when a voice sounded from the entrance of the alley.

“Hey! Are you okay..? Ugh what am I doing…” The last part was muttered that Adam barely caught it. He looked towards the accented voice to see a tall spider-like demon dressed in the sluttiest outfit Adam has ever seen.

The spider demon stepped closer. The demon actually looked concerned which caught Adam off guard.

“Are ya alright there, toots? I don’t mean to intrude but ya look like you’re having a bad day. Was the one night stand that terrible?” Adam blinked.

“W-what? One night stand..?” The demon nodded.

“Well ya raced outta that complex like your tail was on fire!” Adam almost dropped his phone then. This…thing, saw him come from Y/N’s apartment and he was concerned?

“What's it to you? Maybe the pussy just wasn’t good enough!” The spider demon looked at him and then burst out laughing.

“No way it wasn’t! The only decent female in that joint is one of my best friends!” Adam almost passed out at that information.

“Y/N, despite me being attracted to others, has the best pussy in town! Can definitely keep ya up all night!”

Adam looked at the demon again and noticed something else. This was the one that Lucifer’s crotch demon presented at the hearing. The one that followed every point on his stupid list to get into Heaven.

“I- uh… She was supposed to show me to some hotel but-”

“Ya mean the Hazbin Hotel? Of course she cared more about getting good dick than showing a sinner where to get redeemed or some bullshit. I’ll show ya!” The spider gestured for him to follow. Adam reluctantly did. He tucked his phone away and followed after the tall spider demon.

“The names Angel Dust, toots. What’s yours?”

“Edenis”

I need her so bad

Sometimes I thank that I can taste it

This evil romance

So good I never wanna waste it(Yeah)

I can’t trust my friends

‘Cause she’s what everybody chases

And I know where she’s been

‘Cause it’s on everybody’s faces

Come on

Adam made sure to keep his demonic disguise on at the hotel. He, unfortunately, fit right in as a “redeemable” monster with a brash attitude and vulgar tongue. He was introduced to everyone by that stupid princess. The only one he actually tolerated was Husk.

The day was going by slowly. Charlie had been planning a new exercise out with her girlfriend, Vaggie. Adam made sure to stay far away from her in case she somehow recognised him. Angel Dust was out with his friend, Cherri Bomb, and Sir Pentious was helping Nifty with the cleaning.

Adam wandered over to the bar and sat down. Husk pulled out a dusty bottle of red wine. The first time Adam asked for a drink, Husk poured him a shot of whiskey. Adam took a sip before he gagged and slided the glass back to the cat demon and rudely asked for some “goddamn red wine!” Husk shot his eyebrows up before shrugging and digging around for the one bottle of wine they had. Husk made sure to keep in stock of it ever since.

“What’s wrong with you?” Husk asked nonchalantly. Adam sighed and leaned on the counter.

“What if… you fell for someone that you weren’t supposed to?” Husk looked at Adam. Adam was looking down in his glass of wine with this sad look in his red and gold eyes.

“How bad do you want her?”

Adam looked up at the cat, “I need her so bad. Sometimes I… I think I can still taste it. Her lips.”

Husk hummed. He set down the glass he was cleaning and pulled out a deck of cards. He started laying out a game for him and Adam to play while they talked.

“Then why don’t you tell her instead of thinking about the ‘what if’s’? If you truly love someone that much then I’d tell them. Don’t make it a big thing for them. Make it simple. No one, not even that motherfucker up in the clouds, could stop someone from falling in love.” Adam was silent. He pondered over Husks’ words.

“But what if it was love between an Angel and a Sinner?” Husk immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at Adam. Adam could feel the cat’s stare go right through him.

“Oh my- you gotta be fucking kidding me. Adam? The fir-” Adam slapped a gloved hand over the cat’s mouth and glared at him.

“Yes, you fucking scum! Now shut it before I rip your fucking tail and wings off you. You go blabbing to anyone and I’ll make sure we kill everyone in this stupid fucking shithole.” Husk glared and ripped Adam’s hand from his snout.

“I won’t fucking say anything you prick! Satan almighty…” Husk grabbed a bottle of whisky and downed it.

Adam knew he was fucked now. How many others here are gonna see through his disguise? He couldn’t abandon this mission though.

“Who is it?” Adam perked up at Husk’s deep voice.

“Who’s who?” Husk rolled his eyes.

“The demon you were talking about?” Adam paused. He glanced around to see if Angel Dust was anywhere near before he leaned a bit close.

“Y/N… Angel’s friend.” Husk choked.

“Her? Damnit Adam! She’s been with, like, every demon in Pride! Doesn’t help that she’s an Overlord as well! Oh my Satan, you are so fucked.”

Adam was stunned. He didn’t know how Hell worked but he was here long enough to know that Overlords were some of the most powerful in the Pride Ring. How come Y/N never mentioned that part of her? They used to talk for hours on end about their lives, both living and dead.

“Does that mean…she can’t be redeemed?”Adam was almost scared of the answer to that.

Husk looked at him. He sighed and set down his cards, “Look, Adam. If she wanted to be redeemed then she would be here. She has thousands of souls under her belt. She’s even more powerful than that smiling deer prick here,” Adam deflated at that but Husk wasn’t done, “But, if anyone can convince her to do good then I’m sure it’s you. From what I heard from Angel and you, she seems to be doing good things without realising it.”

Adam sat up and downed his drink before hopping off the stool.

“I’ll be back! Tell Charlie some lie or whatever. I don’t fucking care.”

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

“Fuck, Adam. That was fucking amazing! No wonder you call yourself ‘Dick Master’.” Adam was lying beside her in her bed. He turned towards her and lifted a hand to brush away the hair from her eyes. She turned to look at him and he could see the confusion swirling in her clouded eyes.

“I…” Adam swallowed. This was it.

“I love you, Y/N. Not because you’re a good lay but because you actually cared about how I felt when I would talk about my problems in Heaven. When we would have those talks before we got…intimate, it would be the best day of my life. Even Lute, that fucking bitch, noticed something from me.” Adam continued to pour his heart out to the one he loved.

“I don’t want this to be a fuck and go. I want this as something more.” Adam was nervous again. He hoped he didn’t just ruin whatever this was with her.

“Adam…” Adam shut his eyes. He didn’t want to be rejected. Not for a third time in his long life.

“That was very sweet but… How am I to be with you if I cannot go to Heaven?” Adam sat up. He pulled her up by the shoulders and hugged her.

“I don’t wanna admit this but, that stupid hotel works. Charlie and everyone will help you. I’ll even come down and help or talk to Sera about sinners being redeemed! I just want you.” Adam hugged her tightly. He couldn’t believe she accepted him

“I’ll go. Just for you.”

“Thank you…”

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

I never wanna have to slow down

Gotta be a better way to come down

I’ve gotta stay awake somehow

Y/N couldn’t keep quiet. Adam pounded into her pussy ruthlessly. Her moans were so loud that Adam had to use his powers to soundproof the room. He panted above her, gripping her wrists together above her head. He leaned down and trailed kisses down her neck.

“Adam! I-I’m close, please!” Adam growled. He ran a hand down her waist and towards her throbbing clit. His calloused fingers found the bud and started rubbing in circles. His lover’s voice got louder at the contact.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me! Show me how much you love this dick!” Y/N screamed as she gushed all around his dick. He moaned and drilled his hips into her a few more times before he released into her. He looked up at her flushed face and smiled.

It’s been years since their first run-in with each other. Since then she’s been redeemed and now lives with him in Heaven. Her skin went from demonic to an angelic colour. Her horns were replaced with tiny wings and her tail was now rounded instead of pointed. She had giant wings on her back that glittered in the sun of Heaven.

“I love you, Y/N” Adam lowered himself next to her and wrapped an arm around her stomach. Her stomach was bulged slightly, clear signs of pregnancy.

Y/N smiled at her lover and snuggled up to him. Adam recognised the flower now. Lily of the Valley.

“You really keep me up, ya know that?” Adam murmured to her. Y/N giggled.

“Of course I know that. You just can’t get enough of me~” Adam laughed. He knew he was whipped. Lute had scolded him for it when he would talk about his and Y/N’s love life.

Adam never wanted to come down from this high that Y/N gave him. He wanted to stay like this forever if it meant having Y/N by his side for that long.

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

Funky little monkey, she’s a twisted trickster

Everybody wants to be the sister’s mister

Coca-Cola roller-coaster

Love her even though I’m not supposed to

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

She keeps me up(I keep you up)

All night(All night)

Oh boy idk if I like this one... Hopefully my Lucifer one is better! Sorry for not posting this yesterday but yesterday was hectic for me:(

I'm trying not to give descriptions to reader but I like the idea of reader having black lipstick on when its sinner reader. Idk im just weird:p

Hope you all enjoy!!🖤

#hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #writing #writblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #adam x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 days

Text

Mystery of love

III

a/n: couldn’t stay away from these two…

warning: anxiety attacks, smoking, toxic exs.

summary: when two lost souls meet at their mutual friend’s party sparks fly, the question is if whatever they feel can actually bloom into something more? But that’s the mystery of love.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had gotten better. It was better for a while before it all tumbled down. Noah didn’t know what exactly started it. And even more so his sleepless nights made him feel stupid. He had gotten the hang of controlling his thoughts and now it seemed that everything was for nothing. He woke with a flinch ready to face the odd hours of night only to be met with the rays of sunshine peeping through the blinds. Noah’s heart was hammering, cutting off any other sound. One thing he was sure of, though. He wasn’t in his room. And it wasn’t his drenched sheets that he gripped as he woke. No, it was you. His hands had gripped onto your body.

And now your worried sleepy eyes were looking at him. Noah quickly pushed back. Pulling his body from beneath you. Mind going two hundred miles per hour. “Noah”, your voice pierced the static but he simply shook his head moving to stand up. You watched him moving towards the bathroom ,the doors clicking shut. The bigger part of you, the one that always fixed things, screamed for you to go after him. Make sure he is okay, and do something to help. But you knew how vulnerable breaking down was. How getting smothered only made it worse. So you let him do his thing, trusting him to pull himself out. Even if no one deserved to hurt alone.

When Noah finally slipped out of the bathroom face still damp from the cold water he had drowsed himself in. He was ready to be met with questions but instead, he found you humming as you waited for the water to boil, two cups waiting to be filled in front of you. It made him feel this weird sense of domestic security. It was easy and calm and when you turned to him, a slight smile on your face he felt strangely seen but for the first time not made a spectacle of.

“Camomile and mint”, you mussed, “And waffles are warming up”, “I’ll be in a huge depth to you if you keep this up”, Noah muttered, voice horse from sleep still. His mind pulled him back to the fact that he had slept through the whole night, only in the morning did his brain catch up with him. “Don’t mention it”, you waved it off, “I’m off work today, you got any plans?”, you looked over your shoulder as you buttered the waffles. “Should go to the studio but I don’t know if I can”, the words slipped out of Noah’s mouth before he could even register them.

“Do you want to come?”, he quickly added, “I know you don’t like…”,’ “If I can read while you do your thing, I’m in”, you cut his rant off, trying to defuse the rising tension in his body. “You would come?”, he asked slightly surprised. “There are too many comes in your sentences for eight am, I will join you if you want the company”, you shrugged, Noah snickered slightly, “I’m trying to manifest future events”, he smirked making you glare at him, “Every time I begin to think you can make it without… eh doesn’t matter”, you shake your head. Security feeling a sense of ease that he had jumped back into a somewhat his usual self.

But that shattered the moment you two sat in the car, you could tell from the way his jaw was set that his mind was already in his studio. And whatever that was waiting for him there was eating at him. “Who does the food shop in the house?”, you pulled the question right out of your ass, needing about anything to distract him. “Ah, well we just do it at random”, Noah shrugged. “And when was the last time?”, you glanced at him, watching him concentrate as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Why don’t we stop by”, you suggested, “We can grab little things, I think Emmy is coming over tonight so you all might want some nibble bits”, it felt slightly too pushy in a way. It was their routine you were messing with it, but for some reason, you were sure that looking at cheese was better than going to the demon that seemed to be Noah’s studio. “Sure, you can lead the way, 'cause I never know what to buy for shit like that”, Noah grunted, making you smile.

He was mindlessly walking next to you, carrying the bag, after you two bickered about that for ten minutes. And while you had called him sexist he simply said that it doesn’t mean that you have to do everything yourself. Now you were happily looking through different crackers. Ones that looked the same to Noah but apparently were extremely different and didn’t go well with everything. And while Noah hated food shopping, it was nice watching you find joy in such a simple task.

That was until you had halted mid-reach, before turning to face him. Your face had gone pale and Noah couldn’t help but frown slightly but before he could ask you what was going on your hands had reached out to him, pushing him backward, “Fuck, fuck, shit”, you muttered beneath your breath.

“Y/n?”, Noah watched as your whole face scrunched up almost in pain at your name being called from behind you. Noah’s eyes darted past your shoulder, at the guy standing there. He was close to both of your age at least that’s how it looked. He was the definition of office plankton. So put together with his white pressed shirt that Noah had to make an effort to not roll his eyes.

“Dan”, you turned to face him, a smile so fake it had to hurt your cheeks. “Grocery store out of all the places, and in a shit cracker section”, Dan mussed stepping closer and making you step back ever so slightly, causing you to press against Noah’s chest. A surge of protectiveness flooded him. It was the way the guy looked at you as if you were nothing but dirty beneath his shoes that made Noah press his palm against your back.

“What a funny coincidence, still doing your morning juice runs I see”, you muttered, trying to keep your head up. Dan chuckled, “Still so hung up on us that you remember my routine, I’m flattered”. On us, all sorts of alarm bells ran out and Noah instantly reached out, putting his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. That was enough to make the asshole pull his gaze from you to Noah instead.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you do”, you mussed, making Noah smirk ever so slightly. Dan hummed bitterly eyes still on Noah, “Enjoying my leftovers, man?” Noah’s fingers tightened around the handle of the bag in his hand, “What the fuck did you just say?”, as he grunted through gritted teeth. Your palm instantly pushed against his chest, “Don’t, it’s not worth it”. But it’s as if you weren’t there cause he still stepped forward. “Warm her up from me before I come for a round two”, Dan chuckled, Noah’s hands shot out before his last breath was even taken but you clasped your wrist around them, stepping between them.

“Fuck you”, you spat at Dan as he walked backward laughing, eyes stinging with the promise of tears and an insane amount of embarrassment. “You never step in front of me like that, do you hear me”, Noah grunted, turning you around by your upper arm, “I could have fucking hit you”. “Well, I’m not letting you get on tomorrow’s headlines because of me”, you hissed, turned away from him once more as the first tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it off as fast as you could.

You heard him sigh before his fingers reached out for you once more, “Come here”, Noah muttered. “Don’t touch me”, you bit back, pulling his hand away but he didn’t let go, “I wasn’t asking”, and within a heartbeat his hand was cupping your cheek as he pulled you closer to his chest. Only then did you realize that you were trembling. Only when you gripped his hoodie did you realize that his heart was beating way slower than yours.

“I’m sorry”, you muttered shaking your head. “The only one who should be sorry is that piece of shit” Noah grunted, his fingers running up and down the back of your neck. “Can we not talk about him or this or… Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”, as much as Noah wanted to argue about it he owned you one for this morning. You had let him do his thing without prodding and pushing. He should let you do the same but his gut was telling him there was so much more here. So many things that might even put you in danger. The thought alone of you running into that dick alone left a sour taste in his mouth. “Let’s pay up and go”, he muttered, eyes still fixed in front of you as if magically Dan would appear and Noah would have a chance to land that right hook right at his perfect nose.

You were thankful for the silence as you drove to his house. Thankful that he lit your cigarette at the red light because your hands were trembling too much. All you had told him in that 25-minute drive was “I don’t smoke, I just need this now, okay?” He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on the road. He didn’t say anything s he opened your side of the door, motioning for you to go ahead. He didn’t even try to match your fake smile as you greeted the two guys, Jolly and Nicholas, who kindly reintroduced themselves to you. You could see them watching Noah though and they could read his mood. Making the whole small talk ten times more awkward.

You felt concrete heavy as you two finally went down to the basement where the at-home studio was located. Noah pulled his hoodie off with one hand so effortlessly that if you weren’t so deep in your head you were convinced you would have crumpled. “And who’s worried about how much you will wound me”, he threw your own words at you, “It’s because of him isn’t it?”. You knew the questions would come. You were just naive enough to believe that he had forgotten it all. “Don’t dissect, Noah, I don’t need you rummaging through my life”, you grunted, throwing your hands up.

“I’m not asking you for details, it’s a yes or no question, love”, he said clearly still annoyed. You watched him. The guy who just randomly fell into your life. One that made you wish for a different life. “Yeah, mostly”, you admitted with a shrug, “Does this change anything?”. He simply nods, “Does Emmy know how he treats you?”, his words made a shiver run down your back as the very last months of your relationship with Dan play out in your mind.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have pushed”, Noah runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry”. You just shake your head, “I would have the same question if I was in your position so… I get it”, you run your fingers over the leather sofa absentmindedly. “I slept through the night for the first time last night”, Noah muttered, making you snap your head back at him. “I was gonna say that for someone who claims he struggles with sleep, you slept like a baby”, you point out, “What keeps you up most nights?” You know that he threw this out as a lifeline. An equalizer. He got a glimpse of your ugly past now he was handing an ugly piece of his own to you.

“Music is fragile”, he plops onto the sofa, “What if one morning I wake up and everyone has moved on from our music?” You step closer, sitting down next to him, “See, I should tell you that that’s a pretty irrational fear but I understand”, you watch him shrug before he turns to face you, “That’s why I can’t seem to make that call about canceling the tour”. You frown slightly, “People won’t forget you just because you’re taking a break for your health”. He lets out a deep sigh, “Tell that to my brain”, he taps a finger against his temple. “Brain, fans won’t forget about Noah”, you say firmly. For a moment he just watches you before letting out a slight chuckle, “I don’t think my brain heard you”. You raise an eyebrow at him, “Well then”, you muse, cupping his face and leaning closer to him, “No one could forget about you”, you whisper against his air. Noah’s hands instantly reach out, wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to him. And when you pull back both of your faces are inches apart. You can feel his breath on your face, and can still smell the hints of his cologne. “Noah…”, his name is barely whispered on your lips but it seems to snap him out of his daze, his lips press against your forehead instead, and then he pulls you into his embrace and you find yourself ever so slightly disappointed and wondering how his lips would feel against yours.

••••••••••

@broken0mens

#noah bad omens fanfiction #noah bad omens imagine #noah bad omens x reader #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens x you #bad omens x reader #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine

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sickwhispers · 7 days

Note

eeeee!! yay!! ^♡^ can I ask for finn x reader and/or sprout x reader hcs?? I don't wanna overload u so I'll keep it at those!!! tysm ^_^ -incredibly desperate annon from earlier

Oh my gosh you are such a cutie (/p) don't worry about overloading me, I'm at your service!

WRITE ME LETTERS (hot freaks)

Credits to xx675ehf on tumblr for the finn picture

Pairing: Finn x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he doesn't understand personal space all that much, but he means well

Type: headcanons + drabble

"Whale, whale, whale... look what we have here!" Would be the first thing you hear before he comes barreling towards you at a hundred miles per hour. His body colliding with yours from behind as he brings you in for a tight squeeze

He was never one to really announce his presence, preffering to instead tackle you with affection after a quick fish pun

They never seemed to end when it comes to you

Or, really, they never seemed to end in general

But, if you indulge him just the slightest, it's easy for him to get carried away

He's almost like a dog, in a way

He'd follow you everywhere

To each machine, to each hiding spot, right by your side the second you make your way into the elevator

Every break is spent with him practically glued to your hip, his hands holding onto you in anyway they can

Whether it be by holding your hands, clinging onto your arm, tugging at any article of clothing he could reach rapidly to bring your attention back onto him

He's a Hyper one, and he isn't scared to prove it

He's even been trying to come up with new and improved fish puns

Something that'll impress you

He's self aware, he knows not everyone's a fan of his fish puns

But, even if he was able to score just a tiny giggle from you, he'd be over the moon

"Oh, c'mon! Don't act so koi with me, i dont bite!" His arms wrap around you just a bit tighter, head pressed up right against your side as an proud grin spread across his face.

You had sat on the floor of the elevator, giving yourself a few seconds of peace before having to go back to being tormented once more by the threats lurking around practically every corner. But, of course, there was rarely any moment of peace with finn on your team. He meant well, you knew he did, and he definitely wasn't the malicious type. He just... never seemed to realize when the right time for affection was. And right now, with your chest heaving up and down from a chase you had just endured, you weren't exactly begging for psychical touch.

But at the same time, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Your arm slowly lifted up, shaky from the adrenaline you had just experienced only a few moments ago, before wrapping around him, bringing him just a bit closer. This had caused him to let out an ecstatic gasp in return.

"Yknow, Finn... you're really-" you take a pause, avoiding eye contact with him. Although, despite you doing everything you can not to let your gaze fall right back onto him, you could still feel the way his eyes bored into you. You almost didn't want to say it. Your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to muster up the courage. "krilling me with the puns..."

There was a pause. Not one long enough to be considered worrisome, but it had definitely been a decent amount of time before you finally craned your head in his direction. And, once your gaze finally landed on him, the first thing that greeted you were his eyes staring right back into yours. They had widened significantly, and along with that his lips parted slightly. For a second you wondered if it was his body that was shaking or the movement the elevator made as it climbed up to the next floor.

"That..." He began to speak, taking another pause. You soon realized it was his body that was shaking, not the elevator. And, as he took a deep breath, signifying that he was ready to finish his sentence, his smile seemed to stretch farther then you've ever seen. "Was fin-tastic!"

It's safe to say that he'd enjoy it if you ever decided to reply to his puns with some of your own

Nothing would make him happier then hearing a fish pun slip from your mouth, whether it be intentional or a complete accident from all the times you've heard him say them

PERSONAL BODY GUARD

Pairing: Sprout x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: none!

Type: headcanons + drabble

Overprotective

That single definition was a word you heard thrown every round every now and then when it came to sprout

And, not once was it ever used as a lie

Because he was, in fact, overprotective

A gentle tug of the wrist in an attempt to drag you away from running head on into a twisted, a two hour lecture afterwards about how much danger you could've been in had he not saved you in time

His presence constantly looming over you each floor, never too far away.

It was a natural instict at this point

No matter how far away you were on a floor, the second one thing goes wrong, he's right by your side

Sometimes he could be a little too much

Not that he cares about your complaints when he's grabbing you by the cheeks, twisting your head in every single direction as he inspects you for any sort of wound

"Do you know how risky that was!? You could've lost a heart!" Despite the almost desperate tone behind his movements, turning your head from side to side, his touch was always gentle. He had taken a good blow to the back, his scarf barely holding onto his form as it threatened to slip at any second. You hadn't lost a heart, thankfully, but he sure did.

He kept you huddled behind a few boxes, legs trembling beneath the both of you as you tried to regain your stamina from the chase you had only managed to survive from. His grip was tight, and once he had made sure you hadn't gotten hurt during your little stunt, he slowly let his hands slip from your face.

"Are... you okay?" You tried to reach out, your arms stretching out to check him for any injuries just like he had done for you. And yet, they didn't have to move an inch before sprout's body seemed to slump against you. His head resting against your shoulder as his arms stayed hanging lazily by his sides. He almost didn't want to move, finding too much pleasure in having you pressed up against him.

A sigh slipped past his mouth, the sound drawn out as he hesitated for a second before speaking. "Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well- I'll be fine. But, let's just stay here for a second, okay..?"

You couldn't remember the last time he had ever admitted to not being okay during a run

Typically, he'd brush off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand

As long as you were fine, he was fine

It didn't take too long before he was reassuring you, smiling as he always did while he stuck a bandaid over a wound too serious for just a simple bandaid.

He always kept the better stuff for you

Did he ever want to admit he put you before himself almost all of the time?

No.

He didn't want you to worry

He's the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around

He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, it doesn't take much before he's head over heels in love after a simple smile you threw his way

It's always better to be focused and prepared, especially when the people he loves are constantly being hunted down by corrupted versions of his friends

He doesn't like it when the others point out how distracted he gets everytime he spots you from far away, his body freezing up on the spot as his eyes lock onto the way you pick up protein bar off the floor

For a second he wonders if your admiring his picture on the wrapper

But surely that's wishful thinking...

#this is my first time ever attempting to write finn and sprout's character i really hope its in character #ahhhhhhhh im so tired nap time for me now good night everybody #shout out to google for helping me find fish puns for the finn headcanons #dandys world #dandy's world #dandy’s world #finn dandys world #finn dw #sprout dandys world #sprout dw #finn x reader #finn dw x reader #sprout x reader #sprout dw x reader #dandys world x reader #dandy's world x reader #x reader

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actual-changeling · 2 months

Note

Hi! I'm doing a rewatch of the x files and this is the first time I got so invested in MSR and I was wondering if you had some fic recs? there are so so many online I have no idea how to find the best ones lol I'm okay with explicit content btw thanks in advance!

Give me a few days and I'll make a more comprehensive masterpost but I can give you some good starting points!

Self-promo first, you can find me on ao3 and any tumblr-only ficlets under the tag #alex writes x files. My bookmarks are public and I save every single fic I read on there, so you can have a look through those if you want.

@today-in-fic this is the account to follow to get fresh fics on your dash. they simply reblog any TXF fanfics they get tagged in, so they're somewhat of an archive in by itself.

Writers plus general amazing TXF accounts

@msrafterdark if you don't mind smut then this one is a must!

@bakedbakermom // @sisterspooky1013 // @thursdayinspace

@randomfoggytiger (an absolute goldmine concerning everything MSR and TXF, especially when it comes to meta posts)

@television-overload // @baronessblixen // @thescullyphile

@deathsbestgirl // @scullysexual // @numinousmysteries

@fine-nephrit // @scullysflannel // @fossilizedhearts

@not-aliens // @julmunne

More Additions by @unremarkablehouse

@phillippadgettwrites (smut warning!)

@tatooedlaura-blog // @agent-troi // @katy-kt-katie

@thatfragilecapricorn30 // @slippinmickeys // @skelavender

@freckleslikestars // @gaycrouton // @cassiopeia462

@lotsoforangesoutside // @spookydarlablack

(Live) Episode Reaction & Rewatches

@enigmaticxbee @mulders-too-large-shirt

Other Specializations

Dana Scully Lookbook Project The X-Files Script Archive

AO3 author & fic recs

Sareki (author)

Thirty Five Hundred Miles And A Lifetime To Go

Long hours on the road and in the skies, how will Dana Scully and Fox Mulder fill the silence? What silence? A collection of road trip oneshots through their years together and the games they play..

The Modern Gateway Motel

After a traumatic experience, Mulder fabricated an X-file as a way to help Scully escape reality. Over the years, they returned to “investigate” that special place and take advantage of all it had to offer, exploring aspects of their relationship that they attempted to ignore in the real world. As time passed, it grew harder to confine the relationship they shared to that specific time and place.

Gradients

He didn’t want Scully in his bed so much as he wanted that last barrier gone. Sex seemed to be the demarcation for her, as she’d apparently decided that once that hurdle had been cleared, it would signal her complete surrender to him. As if she hadn’t already done that. As if he hadn’t with her a long time ago.

PLEASE feel free to leave your own additions (self promo explicitly welcomed) and I'll add them.

#alex answers asks #alex watches x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr

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maxislvt · 2 years

Text

Satisfaction

Summary: Wanda really likes to take care of you. Even when you whine, pout, and insist on escaping her grasp. She knows how to put you back in your place.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, coercion, subspace technically, soft!dom!milf!wanda, sub! reader, no gendered terms

Author's note: First fic of the year!!! Go Me!!! Also, this is related to the milf Wanda Christmas fic but it's mostly because I'm obsessed with that dynamic so you don't have to read that to enjoy this!

Wanda never expected to enter the new year dating her next-door neighbor, but she was happy to say it. Spending Christmas and New Year's Eve with you was wonderful. You looked cute playing with the twins and the camera she bought you. You were already perfect and now you were perfectly hers. Everything was unbelievably great. Then, reality came along and tried bursting her bubble.

At a staggering 5:30 in the morning, Wanda's peaceful sleep was disturbed by a bearing alarm that she certainly didn't set.

"Dig through the ditches and burn through the witches, I slam in the back of my Dragula"

The alarm was so loud that it had practically thrown Wanda out of sleep, but you merely stirred awake. Despite the hangover you should've had, you quickly hopped out of bed. Wanda was just a little bit faster than you. She pulled you back down to bed without thought and wrapped her arms around you. "And what has my favorite photographer in the whole wide world up so early?" A few kisses to your cheek and forehead was all it took for you to lay back down. "I'll make breakfast later. Let's just get a few more hours, okay?

Wanda's raspy voice and affection almost pulled you back into the land of dreams, but you were on a schedule. "I'm sorry, I promise to be on the first schedule for the new year. I can't be late." Rejecting Wanda had always made you upset, but it hurt more now that she was your girlfriend. It took all your self-control to free yourself from Wanda's addictive warmth. You were shocked when the only protest you received was a disapproving groan and a soft pout. "I won't be gone that long, I promise! Just a 3-hour shift and I'll be back home before you know it." Getting ready was deceptively easy. Wanda had brought some of your things to her house earlier in the week. Though it embarrassed you to admit, leaving Wanda's house just to be less than a mile away was torture. Everything was quiet

Then, she attacked. Wanda walked up behind you just as you put your shirt on. Her hands slipped underneath the fabric. Before you could whine, she began attacking your neck with kisses. Smoldering hot teeth had no mercy on your soft skin. One kiss after another until it began to bruise. "I think someone still owes me a couple hundred in kisses," She whispered seductively before nibbling on your earlobe. Her arms wrapped around your body and pulled you back flush against her chest. "Come on, just stay home. Please?"

You nearly collapsed on the floor. "Ah, don't do that! I don't have anything to cover them up with!" That information only served to invigorate Wanda. All your joints had turned to jelly, but your girlfriend didn't give up her torture. "It's just a few hours," You mumbled. A gasp escaped your lips as Wanda's finger broke the barrier of your underwear. "Why are you making it so hard to leave," You asked with a heavy whine. Of course, you received no answer as Wanda's hand went straight for the wetness between your legs. Her slender fingers ran up and down your slit. "Fine, fine! I'll stay.

Wanda rewarded your compliance with another kiss. A real one this time. Her tongue invaded your mouth without a second thought. She easily dominated you with her experience and explored it without concern. She'd suck all the disobedience out of you if she could. "Why are you making it so hard for me to take care of you, hm? It's so much easier to give in and let yourself be my precious little baby." Before you could protest, she dragged you back to the bed to continue her assault on your senses. "I'll even call in for you, give me your phone."

Wanda was all over you. Her neatly painted nails left heavier streaks of red. Sparkles and cotton filled your head and you thought you were floating. No one had ever made you feel that way before. It was like magic. Your body would only do what Wanda wanted it to. Even if you were embarrassed and wanted to argue you could call in yourself, you reached over to the nightstand and gave it to her anyways.

"Thank you, sweetheart," She cooed and rubbed your thighs. Wanda called your boss. When the line clicked, her voice changed completely. "Hi, I hope it isn't any trouble to you but I'm Wanda, Y/N's girlfriend. You see, they haven't been feeling well and I was hoping they could have the day off," The tone she spoke in was a lot more professional compared to the sultry tone she used to drag you back to bed. "It's fine if not, I just don't want to risk someone else getting sick too."

"Oh, no it's perfectly fine! I'm glad someone called me, Y/N will work themselves to death if you don't watch them. Just say we canceled for the day!"

The sound of your boss's voice immediately broke the trance and you were overcome with guilt. While your coworkers spent hours putting together documents and planning for the months ahead, you'd be swaddled up and pampered like a baby. That wasn't right. "No, W-" Wanda's fingers slipped into your open mouth and your lips closed around them instinctively. For a moment, they just sat there. Heavy on your tongue and stiff as a board. Then, Wanda began to move them in and out of your mouth. It was embarrassing, but your body seemed to love it.

"Oh, thank you so much! I'll make sure they're in tip-top shape for their next shift!" Wanda nodded and hummed in agreement a few more times before hanging up. She pulled her fingers from your mouth with a wet pop and smiled down at you. "Now, are you gonna play nice or do you need some more convincing ?" Her hands moved to pull down your pants and tossed them to the side. She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek when you nodded. "Good, now let's get you into some comfortable clothes."

"Thank you," You whispered, unsure what else to say. Your brain would constantly switch back and forth between embarrassment and confusion. Why was Wanda talking to you like that? Was she trying to tease you with the finger thing? Is it okay to be wet after all of that? It didn't matter what the answers to your questions were, you wanted more. Pride be damned. Wanda made you feel good.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Wanda hadn't planned on teasing you so much. She just wanted to keep you taken care of and healthy. It wasn't her fault you'd suddenly become so compliant and mushy. You were just too cute. Walking around the house in nothing but your underwear and her baggy shirt, Wanda couldn't help but claim you. Getting you worked up was so easy. All she had to do was hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, then you'd be putty in her hands.

That didn't mean she'd make it easy for you. If anything, putting you in such a headspace made it infinitely harder. All night you found yourself squirming and even full-on grinding against her trying to relieve the ache between your legs. Yet, it didn't matter to Wanda how obvious your need was. She wanted you to use your words.

"Is everything okay? You've been awfully whiny, sweetheart. " Wanda bit back a smile hearing you whine as you rolled over into her lap. "I'm sorry, I don't know what 'hnng' means." She placed her book down on the nightstand and held your hips in place. "I don't know what your huffing means either," She teased. Instead of answering your obvious pleas, she simply raised her eyebrows when you guided her hand to space between her legs. "Awe, do you want me to rub your belly?" She asked in that sickeningly sweet tone she'd been using all day. Wanda kissed your face as she scratched your stomach.

You whined out in frustration but accepted the affection nonetheless. It wasn't fair. All you had to do was say a few words but your brain simply refused to. Your tongue set heavy in your mouth as you continued to whine. Grinding against her was impossible too. Only Wanda could satisfy and she'd happily do it if just asked. After several minutes of dumbly attempting to grind against her lap and whining, you finally spoke. "Touch me, please?"

Part of Wanda, one much crueler and sadistic, considered pushing you further. Just to see how desperate she could get you. She decided to play nice. "Awe, baby, why didn't you just ask? I would've helped you hours ago." Her hand slipped underneath your boxers and toyed with your clit. Slow, tight circles sent shivers up your spine and caused more wetness to leak out. "Oh, you're such a messy thing but mo- I promise to help clean you up when we're done."

Had you been lucid, you would've caught Wanda's slip-up. You were just too needy to notice. All you could focus on was the burning heat in your stomach begging to come out. You clung to your girlfriend and grinded against her hand. "M-more," You stuttered out. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head once Wanda finally thrust one of her fingers into you. You weren't a virgin, but no one had ever gone as deep as Wanda did. Just two of her fingers had reduced you to nothing but a pile of whimpers and moans.

The small whimpers that came from your mouth were addictive. "That's it, I'm here to make it better. Just let it out." Wanda didn't miss the way your moans seemed needier as she praised you. Her fingers curled against your g spot and she hummed. "You're just the cutest little thing, aren't you?" She spread her fingers apart and enjoyed the way your walls fluttered around them. "One day, I'm going to fill you up with my cock and you're gonna look adorable!"

An image popped into your head. One of you bent over on the bed and fucked senseless by the thick red dildo you weren't supposed to see the first time you did. The thought alone sent you crashing into an orgasm. Your walls spasmed around your girlfriend's fingers until a sticky white substance leaked out of your center. Wanda's fingers continued to pound into you until you could no longer ride out your orgasm. Once you had finally come down from your high, you rolled off of Wanda and plopped down onto the bed.

For a moment, there was calm silence. You attempted to regain your breath as Wanda lovingly played with your hair. You leaned into her touch and let her hold you until you could finally speak again.

"I…I, uh, want to take a bath…together, please."

Wanda kissed your cheek and smiled fondly. "I'll get the water ready. Just relax for a bit."

#pvntherz #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #milf!wanda

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raven-dor · 1 month

Note

can you write a fem reader x James Potter where she like has an anxiety attackat like 3 am bc her parents say she isn't getting good enough grades and that they're gonna pull her out of Hogwarts and so he like calms her down?

drink some water and eat something <3

also can I be :3 anon?

stay with me

In which james potter comforts his best friends twin sister

PAIRING: james potter x sirius black's twin!reader

WARNINGS: anxiety attack, horrible parenting, mentions of abuse, self-esteem issues, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AN: loved writing this!! as someone who craves academic validation, this was kind of healing to put into the world <3

Her hands shook as she stared at the letter her parents had sent her. It had been the fifth one this month, not that she was counting. And they were all the same: vile insults of her knowledge and constant reminders that her brother was a better student than she would ever be.

She laughed when they had said it the first time, telling them that “comparing anyone to Regulus, and he’s a better student.” Her mother had smacked her for that.

This letter had been the worst of them. Her parents knew how to get a rise out of her, stating that if she did not better herself, she’d be pulled from Hogwarts before she could graduate. And even worse, if she was pulled, they would marry her off to Amycus Carrow, the insufferable twat.

Her head of house had pulled her aside weeks ago, telling her that she was doing poorly in her classes, stating that he knew of multiple tutors who could help her fix them. She ignored his offer; after all, if she had wanted help, she would have asked Remus.

It was late; curfew had passed hours ago, but she still stumbled through the halls, hyperventilating. She’d told herself she needed fresh air, but that hadn’t helped. Then she thought a walk would help; also useless. Now, she was just choking on her tears in the hall, hoping Filch didn’t find her. She was used to it, the constant belittling by her own mother and father. Even her cousins contributed. At first, it hadn’t bothered her; if her family had nothing better to do than insult her, they should feel free.

Eventually, their insults warped her mind. She became a shell of her former self, no longer cracking jokes or teasing her brothers and friends. She sat in the corner of the library, reading the pages of her textbooks over and over until her mind felt numb. Sirius had tried to cheer her up constantly, one of his attempts resulting in a detention.

A breeze pulled her down the dark corridor, the night sky visible at the end. Maybe sitting by the Black Lake or lying on the grassy hill would help her calm down. She sniffled, pulling her robe closer to herself. The Quidditch pitch was empty; she was sure of it. The grass there was well-kept, thanks to the gamekeeper. She pushed past the cloth, the great field standing before her.

She ran to the middle, falling to the ground in a completely undignified manner. If her mother were here, she’d scold her. “That is no way for a lady to sit.” She could hear her, even hundreds of miles away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the voices that attacked her. Her heart pumped harder, beating against her chest. She gasped, rubbing her hand in circular motions, grounding herself. “You are no daughter of mine.” That is what her mother had said in the letter, the last thing she said before she signed off with her perfect penmanship. “You are no daughter of mine.”

Y/N laughed. She didn’t want to be her daughter anyway. Sadly, she did not have a choice in that matter; Walburga had pushed her out 17 years ago, and here she was. Sobbing violently in the middle of the night on the grass.

Most likely the best thing Y/N Black would ever do.

She couldn’t get her grades up, no matter how hard she tried; she couldn’t be the perfect daughter, and she couldn’t be normal. A normal person, she told herself, wouldn’t be sobbing over her horrible grades. “You are no normal person, Y/N.” Her father would say. “You are a Black.”

She brought her hands to her face, shaking her head. She murmured to herself, hiccuping every so often. A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, ripping her hands from her face. “Y/N?”

James.

He smiled lightly. “Are you alright, love?”

She sat up, wiping away the tears that still flowed. “I’m fine, Jamie. Don’t worry about it.” She stood, smiling. “Have fun.”

He stood in front of her, blocking her escape. “I wouldn’t say you’re fine. You’re crying.”

She scoffed. “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” She stepped around him, speaking over her shoulder. “Drop it.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place. “Indulge me.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Sometimes I forget to breathe, and I do these exercises to help regulate myself.” He smiled. “Can you do it with me? It would really help me if you played along.”

She knew he was tricking her, but she didn’t really care. “Sure, James.”

He nodded. “Just breathe in for five, hold for two, exhale for five.” He smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Works wonders.”

She tried not to roll her eyes, following along. God, she hated it when he was right. He often was, too; that was the horrible thing. James tried to play the dumb jock stereotype, but he was brilliant in Transfiguration, DADA, and Potions. It irked her to no end that James was not only a great quidditch player but an amazing student, friend, and person.

They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me what had you so worked up?” She shook her head. He sighed, holding her hands in his. “Can I guess then?”

“Be my guest, Potter.”

“Dear old mum and dad.” He raised his eyebrow, smiling lightly. “Am I right?”

“Once again.” She nodded. “You know how they are.”

He nodded back. “I do. But I’ve never seen you this upset over something they’ve done.” He whispered softly. “You don’t have to tell me, but you need to know I hate seeing you like this.”

“Am I that hideous when I cry?” She laughed. “I’ll try to refrain from violently sobbing next time.”

“Don’t do that.” He rubbed her cheek, smiling when a blush formed. “You’ve never been hideous a day in your life, Y/N. And you never will be.”

She scoffed. “You flatter me too much, James.”

“I only tell the truth.” Their hands swayed in between them.

“They told me they were going to pull me out of school because my grades were so poor.” She murmured. “Don’t they know I’m trying?”

“Your parents are unforgiving and cold. They disowned Sirius, for Merlin’s sake.” He pulled her closer, leaning down. “You know they have no logical thoughts.”

“I know.”

“I know you’re trying,” James smirked. “And honestly, that’s all that matters.”

“How could I forget?” Y/N laughed. “The great James Potter, in all his infinite wisdom, strikes again.”

“Is there…” He sighed. “Is there anything else?”

“If they pull me out, they’ve already promised Amycus Carrow that we will be married.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “My worst nightmare come to life.”

James gasped, visibly disgusted. “Merlin, I knew your mother was a horrible person, but to promise you to him-” He shivered. “She really has no love in her heart.”

“She does.” Y/N corrected. “It’s reserved for Regulus.”

“Ah.” He sighed. “You know you’re a good student, right?”

She glared, trying to pull her hands out of her grip. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not, I swear. You are an amazing student. Remember when you helped me with DADA? Last week? I would have completely failed if it wasn’t for you.”

“Nonsense.” She blushed. “You would have been fine. DADA’s your best subject.”

He laughed. “Maybe. But because of you, we’ll never know.” He giggled, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re my hero, Y/N Black.”

She shoved him away, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Shut it, you.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, walking them out of the Quidditch Pitch. “I could use a hot cocoa. What about you?”

“Cider sounds better.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Cider it is.”

The kitchens were luckily not far from the pitch, and with one tickle of the pear, the door opened, not a single house elf in sight. Y/N settled into one of the two large leather seats, staring into the fire. “It’s my fault they don’t love me.”

“What?” James scoffed, kneeling in front of her. “Why would you say that?”

“I should have been a better daughter. If I had spent less time-”

“Living? Y/N, listen to me. You are doing your best. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem. You, Sirius, and Regulus are better off without them.”

“Sirius and Regulus, maybe.” She mumbled. “I don’t deserve it.”

“It?”

“Happiness.”

James shook his head. “Never say that again. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. You- You deserve everything.” He brought his hands up to her cheeks. “Everything.”

She blushed. “James-”

“Say it.” He looked at her rather dangerously; her stomach flipped. “Say you deserve everything.”

“I don’t-” A hand tickled her side, and she gasped. “James!”

He grinned, tickling her incessantly. “Say it, and I’ll stop!”

“I- I deserve- I deserve everything!” She cackled, panting from the sudden attack. “I deserve everything.”

He nodded, looking much too pleased with himself. “Good.” He stood up, grabbing her mug. “My lady.”

She scoffed. “The least you could do after your violent attack.”

“Please.” He smirked. “You know you love me.”

“How exactly did you know I was on the Quidditch Pitch, hm?” She raised her eyebrow. “Were you following me on your little map?”

He blushed, taking a sip of his cider. She smiled to herself. “That’s what I thought.”

#james potter x reader #james potter #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #literature #marauders era #marauders #sirius black #regulus black

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 months

Text

Rusty | Chapter 20 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - this chapter gets dark. Spencer is suffering from a full on break and grows suicidal. Please proceed with caution. This one ends on a cliffhanger, sorry not sorry.

Summary - While you set out on a mission to help Spencer, despite the personal risk, Spencer spirals further into darkness.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - extreme dissociation, swearing, drinking, mentions of past rape, brief mention of oral (m receiving), vomit, blood, self harm, suicide attempt.

WC - 6.4k

Nearly two hundred and fifty some miles and four sweaty buses later you found yourself in a nondescript alleyway sandwiched between a bodega and a dry cleaners on the outskirts of Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Despite the heat you pulled the hood of the sweatshirt you’d purchased higher over your head, obscuring your face as much as possible. The wanted posters were everywhere, you couldn’t be too careful.

You’d bought supplies and treated your arm wound as best you could and it had at least stopped bleeding. It was one less thing to worry about.

It was some eighteen hours since you’d watched Spencer, or whoever he was at the time, leave the barn in the middle of the desert that you’d been hiding in to continue his hunt for you.

You could have kept running, you no doubt should have kept running. But you knew leaving Spencer this way would result in his complete and utter spiral into the blackest depths of destruction. You couldn’t just leave him to his own demise.

Despite it all, you loved him. It wasn’t his fault these things were happening to him, it wasn’t a testament of who he was as a person. It was a manifestation of a lifetime of trauma and you needed to get him some help.

And there was only one person for that job.

It wasn’t until you were almost an hour outside of Tombstone that you even realised you had Spencer’s phone. There were only a handful of numbers saved to the device and one in which you knew could be the answer to his problems.

However, if you were to help Spencer you would ultimately need to sacrifice yourself.

You’d weighed up the pros and cons religiously on one of your bus journeys. You’d known for some time you would do just about anything for Spencer, the fact you’d stuck around after he hit you was proof enough of that.

But did you love him enough to put him before yourself? Because in order to help him, you were effectively ending your own life.

In the end the decision had been a relatively easy one. Spencer would no doubt end up dead at his own hands if you left him like this and no matter how far you ran you would never outrun that kind of guilt.

And so here you were now, ready to surrender yourself in return for Spencer’s well being.

At first when you’d called that number in his phone it hadn’t rang, simply beeped each time you’d hit the call button. After a few attempts you realised the number had been blocked.

Once you’d gone through his settings and unblocked the number it rang five times before a frantic voice answered.

“Spencer? Oh my god Spence!”

“Uh, not exactly…listen I need your help and I don’t know who else to ask. I'm a…friend of Spencer’s and I think he’s come off of his meds. He’s in a bad way. I need your help.”

You hadn’t had to go into detail, hearing Spencer was in trouble was enough for them to come running.

You’d chosen Las Cruces as a meeting place as it was far enough away from Tombstone that should they not help you and you managed to get away, you wouldn’t compromise the little safe haven.

Their flight arrived an hour ago, they’d text you on Spencer’s phone and you’d given them the meeting spot. They should be here any minute.

You held the revolver in your hand, hoping to not have to use it but knowing you’d need some leverage. As soon as they saw your face, the one plastered on wanted posters across the country, they’d be ready to drag you in.

But Spencer was the priority here, you needed them to hear you out before slapping you in cuffs.

You heard a car roll past and soon come to a stop. Then the sound of a car door opening and closing. You held your breath when the sound of footsteps entered your ears and levelled the gun towards the entrance of the alleyway.

He appeared like an apparition, shrouded in an almost ethereal glow from the sunlight streaming in behind him.

His footsteps were heavy on the ground as he started towards you, back stiffening when he saw the gun in your hand.

Your face was obscured by the hoodie, pulled closely round your head. You needed to make a few things clear before he knew who you were.

His hand went to his holster, palming the butt of his own firearm but not drawing it. He dared to step closer, out of the light and his image came into view.

Luke Alvez stepped towards you, his brow furrowed deeply and his lips puckered. He stopped a few feet in front of you, eyes trained on the revolver in your hand.

“You called me,” he spoke, one hand still on his holster, the other in the air in surrender. “Do we need the gun?”

“For now, yes.” You replied stiffly. “I need you to make a deal with me before I can put it away.”

“What kind of deal? I’m here for Spencer.”

“I need you to promise me you will help him first and arrest me later.”

Luke’s frown deepened as he tried to focus on your face beneath the hoodie to no avail. He gave you a cursory once over before his eyes landed back on the gun.

“Why would I arrest you? I don’t even know who you are.” Luke shrugged.

“Yes, Agent Alvez, you do.” You took a step closer, using your free hand to finally tug down the hood of your sweater and waited for Luke’s reaction.

It happened almost instantly. His eyes widened, almost bulging out of his head. His mouth fell open and the colour seemed to drain from his face. He drew his gun now, pointing it back at you in one swift move. You noticed his hand was shaking a little.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he croaked, absolutely dumbfounded. His mind travelled back to Spencer’s Bandera ranch as he stared at you in disbelief.

“Is this the woman? I only saw her from the back. She coulda changed her hair? Is this her? She escaped from a max security facility a few weeks ago. Phil called me.”

“No. I’ve never seen this woman before.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, Spencer? Because this woman is dangerous, and if you’re lying to me, that’s harbouring a fugitive. I don’t need to tell you that comes with a prison sentence.”

“I’m telling you Luke, I don’t know this woman. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Right, I’m just being paranoid I guess.”

Your lip twitched up at the corner in a wry smile and you stared him dead in the eye, not allowing him to see your fear. You swallowed down your nerves over all the ways this could go wrong and when you spoke, your voice held nothing but conviction.

“Hello Agent Alvez,” you clicked your tongue. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

***

Spencer Reid had finally lost his mind, of this he was certain. The last thing he remembered before finding himself in his library surrounded by hundreds of trashed books, was standing in the stable opening Luke’s gift.

He was bleeding, there was no surprise there. His shotgun was on the floor and there were three bullet holes in the wall.

His books had been torn from shelves, pages ripped from their spines and shredded to confetti. He found Copper in the bedroom and he cowered away from Spencer when he entered the room.

But you and his cell phone were nowhere to be found.

Judging by the time he’d been out for over half a day, his longest dissociation by far. Images came to him in flashes but he wasn’t sure if any of it was actually real.

A sprawling desert. Shotgun blasts. An abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. Blood.

But the most disturbing part was the extremely distinctive voices of the ghosts in his head conversing with him as though it was perfectly normal.

“It was God’s will boy, don’t you ever forget it.”

“We were just protecting you, Spencie. She’s no good for us.”

“You were too weak to protect her, just like you were too weak to look after your mother.”

“You couldn’t save Maeve from me, what makes you think you can save her from yourself?”

“She would have made a much better sacrifice than you. Cyrus would have loved her.”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” He yelled, hands flying to his head and eyes closing against the onslaught.

“She was cute, I’ll give you that. But she’ll never be me. Does it make you sick that after everything I put you through you’d still fuck me given half a chance? I saw it in your eyes when you had me up against the wall, it turned you on.”

“No, no! That’s not true. You make me sick, I’d never-”

“He would have let me too, if he thought it would save his previous Maeve. He let me kiss him, I always wondered what else he’d let me do.”

“That’s not true. I would not have crossed that line. I loved Maeve, I was just trying to protect her!” He rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed, clutching his head tightly.

“But you couldn’t protect her, the same way you couldn’t protect Y/N. Because you’re a goddamn weakling, Spencer! It’s why I left, I couldn’t stand what a pansy of a son I had.”

“Fuck you, dad. I’m not weak, not weak. You were the weak one. You left because you couldn’t handle moms illness.”

“You were pathetic and weak just like Tobias. It’s why Charles and I had to teach you a lesson. Both weak and both sinners.”

“No! You’re wrong! I’m not weak and I’m not a sinner! I’m nothing like Tobias!” He screamed to try to drown them out.

“Cyrus was so wrong about you.”

“No, please. Just leave me alone, please!” He whined, opening his eyes to a barrage of tears cascading down his cheeks.

“You did this to yourself, son. You’re just like your mother, thinking you know better than the doctors, coming off the medication that is meant to help you.”

“What have I done? Fuck, Spencer you’re supposed to be a genius!” He threw himself to his feet, ignoring the ache from the open wound in his thigh he’d yet to address.

He stormed back downstairs to the upturned library and the bottles of whiskey he kept in a hidden cabinet in one of the shelves. He grabbed one and unscrewed the lid.

“Once an addict, always an addict. Just like Tobias.”

“I’m nothing like him.” He whimpered, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long sip.

“Just replacing one vice for another. Do you feel it, Spencer? Do you feel your cells dying as you decide to give up? You’re only proving my research.”

“I don’t want to die. And even if I did, your research was flawed. You used your parents as test subjects, your sample was biased.” He took another swig.

Where is Y/N? What happened and where did she go?

“She left your sorry ass just like everyone else.”

“Fuck you dad!” Spencer screamed into the void. “And fuck you Cat, Diane. Fuck you Merva. Fuck you Raphael, Tobias, Charles…whoever you are. Fuck you all! I need to find Y/N.”

“She’s never coming back, you scared the life out of the poor thing, Spencie.”

“I didn’t do anything! That was all you. What did you do to her?”

“We drove the devil away.”

“She wasn’t the devil!” Spencer spat, taking another, longer sip of the whiskey in the hopes that if he was drunk he wouldn’t hear their constant assault upon him. “Why is this happening? Why is this happening to me?”

“You’ve never been strong enough. You weren’t strong enough to fight me off were you?”

The new voice entering the fray caused Spencer to still, his heart skipping at least several beats. This voice was a thick Spanish drawl, husky from too many smokes. That particular voice haunted Spencer’s dreams and most of his waking moments too.

It was the voice of the ringleader, the aggressor and instigator in Spencer’s prison rapes.

Spencer’s whole body trembled, almost dropping the bottle on the floor as more tears scored harshly down his cheeks.

“P-please,” he whimpered. “Please not you too.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy what we did to you. We all saw how much you enjoyed it, cariño.”

The use of Luke’s old nickname in the voice of his rapist caused Spencer’s legs to buckle. He collapsed on the shredded paper on the floor, the whiskey bottle rolling from his hand and spilling its contents across the ripped pages.

“D-don’t call me that.” He cried, on his hands and knees in the destruction of books. “Please don’t c-call me that.”

“What’s the matter cariño? You always liked it when he called you it.”

“Because I loved him. Because when he said it, it was caring and kind and not evil.”

“What would you prefer, cariño?” The voice was overwhelming, casting all the others away. “Mi corazón? Mi Vida? Querido?”

Spencer sobbed, his whole body quaking. At some point or another Luke had called him all of those things and hearing them from the mouth of the man who destroyed that relationship was causing Spencer to spiral further than before.

“Te amo, Spencer.”

“No, no please stop it. It’s not fair!” Spencer wailed. “I loved him so much but I couldn’t be with him because of you! Because of what you and your goons did to me!”

He was crawling around on the floor with no destination. The voices all started talking at once, muttering and mumbling to each other, to him, and he couldn’t keep up.

The voices weren’t just in him, they were him. And he was them. Spencer was no longer a singular entity. He carried pieces of his ghosts, his abusers, his tormentors. He was one with them now.

There was no coming back from this. He may as well just lean into it.

***

When Luke Alvez’s phone bleated for his attention that morning he’d assumed it was the BAU trying to drag him away from the first blissful day off he’d had in weeks.

He’d been in the midst of receiving one of the most earth shattering blowjobs of his entire life, swaddled in the plush goose down duvet on Grant’s unnecessarily comfortable mattress.

His boyfriend - yes that’s what he was - lived in a little apartment a few blocks from Luke’s own although they spent all their free time together. It may have only been six months but Luke was already considering asking Grant to move in with him.

As long as he brings this stupidly comfy bed.

He’d been moments away from his orgasm when the ringing device rudely cut through his haze of pleasure.

It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had demanded his attention while he’d been in the middle of sexual euphoria with Grant.

His head had been so foggy with his impending release when Grant came off of him with a little pop he had to blink a few times at the phantom name on his phone screen.

For a moment he was so bewildered by the sight of the ghost's name displayed in front of him that his whole body froze in abject horror.

Grant watched him curiously from the other side of the bed while his boyfriend paled a sickly colour. He knew it wasn’t the BAU.

“Spencer?” Luke breathed as he put the device to his ear. “Oh my god Spence!”

“Uh, not exactly…listen I need your help and I don’t know who else to ask. I'm a…friend of Spencer’s and I think he’s come off of his meds. He’s in a bad way. I need your help.”

The stranger using Spencer’s phone had gone on to ask him to come to Las Cruces, New Mexico, practically begging for his help. When he hung up he didn't know what to think. He’d ended the call by saying he didn’t think he could get involved.

Grant had moved to DC for him, Grant had moved to DC because even after one night together he’d decided Luke was worth that to him. But Spencer had easily been able to toss him aside after two years together.

He’d made a decision after Grant came to the east coast that he was finally done with Spencer. He was giving himself over entirely to his new fledgling relationship and he was going to stop pining over Spencer once and for all.

But then some mystery woman called him and he found himself thrown into turmoil.

Grant had been incredibly understanding and if it wasn’t for his insistence, Luke might not have gone.

But Grant had pointed out that it would only play on his mind and he would never forgive himself if something happened to Spencer. And although Grant wasn’t thrilled about him springing into action to help his ex, he knew it was something Luke needed to do.

So he’d called Spencer’s phone and spoke to the mystery woman once more saying he’d be on a flight as soon as he could. And then he’d called Emily.

Emily was equally as understanding as Grant, letting him take a few days to go and check on Spencer.

And so now here he was, in New Mexico, face to face with a woman he’d been obsessed with catching.

“You need to put the gun down right now. Come quietly and maybe I’ll see if I can cut you a deal for handing yourself in.”

You had your guns pointing at each other, neither of you relinquishing.

“I’ll be the one making deals, Agent Alvez. I need your help. Spencer has come off his meds and his brain is fracturing. I’m fairly certain he’s dissociating into multiple personalities. You are the only one who can help. Please?” You begged and you saw Luke falter a little.

“Why should I believe you?” He corrected himself. “This could just be some kind of trap.”

“What on earth would I have to gain by drawing you out like this? You didn’t know how to find me, you had no idea where I was. Why would I put myself in danger like that?” You scoffed.

You saw the cogs turning in his eyes, making sense of your words.

“Why would you put yourself in danger for Spencer?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Because I love him.” You shrugged. “Getting him help is more important to me than my freedom. So if you come with me and you help him, I will go quietly. I will let you bring me in and I will spend the rest of my life behind bars. As long as Spencer is okay.”

Luke narrowed his eyes on you, scrutinising you in disbelief. It was understandable, you expected his scepticism.

“I swear this isn’t a trick.” You continued. “But I need you to help him before I cooperate with you. Let me take you to him, please? I don’t know what else to do.”

He was profiling you, you could only assume. He saw nothing but genuine care for Spencer in your eyes. You were here, prepared to give up your freedom so Luke would help Spencer.

But Luke was bred to be a cynic. If his time in the Rangers and as a fugitive hunter had taught him anything it was to trust no one.

If you did have an angle however, he couldn’t foresee what it would be. If you wanted him dead you would have shot him the moment he entered the alley, before he’d had a chance to draw his weapon.

But if Spencer really did need his aid, and Luke agreed to assist, what was to say you wouldn’t kill him after? Or at the very least make a run for it.

If he wanted to, he could shoot you in the arm, disable you long enough to cuff you and call Phil to help him extract you.

But the begging look in your eyes told him that Spencer really was in trouble. And he’d never be able to forgive himself if he turned his back on him.

“You’d do this for him? You’d really hand yourself over and go back to prison just so I’ll help him?” His hand holding the gun faltered.

“I would.” You nodded. “Luke, you know all about the magic that is Spencer Reid. I have no doubt you would have done anything for him too, am I right?”

“Yes.” He replied without hesitation.

“Then you know what I’m saying is true. He means more to me than my freedom.” As if to prove this point you cautiously lowered your gun.

You hoped the second you did so Luke wouldn’t be on you with cuffs. But the look on his face told you he believed you and you were sure he was going to help.

You tucked the firearm back in your waistband and held your hands up to show you posed no threat. You nodded at his own gun, silently telling him to do the same.

Luke’s jaw clenched, you saw the way it pulsed. His fingers flexed around the weapon before he slowly lowered it, carefully tucking it back in his holster.

For a moment the two of you stared at one another, a quiet understanding passing between you. You were both willing to put aside this forced vendetta between you for the sake of Spencer. For a brief window, the two of you were on the same side.

“Okay,” Luke huffed out after a few minutes of silence. “Where is he?”

“Tombstone.” You rolled your lip between your teeth.

“Arizona?” He baulked.

“You really think I was going to bring law enforcement to our doorstep before I knew I could trust you?” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“Ay dios mio.” He muttered under his breath. “I guess we better get going, that’s a long drive.”

“About four hours.” You nodded.

“Mierda.” He spat with a roll of his eyes. You could only assume given the conviction for which he said it that it was a curse word.

“I don’t speak Spanish but, sure.” You shrugged. “Shall we?”

Luke nodded his head, motioning for you to pass him first, probably so he could keep an eye on you in case you tried to run.

He led you to a black Escalade parked a little ways up the street which he unlocked from the button on the rental keys. You slid into the passenger's seat and Luke in the driver's side.

He started the engine and nodded his head towards the GPS display in the middle of the dash. You leant forward in your seat and tapped in the zip code of the ranch in Tombstone.

“This better not be some kind of trap.” Luke grumbled as he put the car in drive.

“Agent Alvez with all due respect, please just fucking drive.”

Luke huffed out a breath, hands clenching around the wheel but he did as you said, flicking the blinkers and checking his mirrors before pulling out onto the sleepy street.

You fell into silence and he switched on the radio to combat the awkward quiet. You stared out the window, only partially wondering what the fuck you were doing.

***

The thick and heavy scents of vomit and blood assaulted his nostrils before he’d even opened his eyes. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or being sick for that matter.

He peeled his face off of the floor, a rogue book page stuck to his cheek which he removed and tossed aside.

He blinked as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and taking in the annihilated library around him. His memory came in broken flashes but he couldn’t decipher what was real and what was imagined.

What he did know was there was a puddle of dried vomit near where he’d been laying, mostly bile as he hadn’t eaten much of anything since…well he had no idea how long it had been.

He wore only his boxers and t-shirt, his jeans were crumpled nearby in a pile of books of torn paper. Pulling his legs out in front of him he noticed several cuts of varying sizes littered all over his left thigh, covered in crusty blood.

The way his head throbbed told him he’d drank a lot, again, no surprise there.

And then he remembered with startling coherence that you were gone. He’d let his demons out to play and they’d driven you away.

A shotgun. A dry desert. Glass shards. Heavy breaths and violent heartbeats.

“I will find you princess, mark my words. I will find you.”

Silence hung heavy around him and for that he was grateful. The rush of voices were quiet for now, for the moment at least he was alone.

He’d kept a lid on those monsters that lived inside of him for so long but he knew now that they’d escaped they would be back sooner rather than later. He’d dealt with so much evil in his life but those six hellions were the ones with whom he’d suffered the most.

William. Tobias. Diane. Cat. Benjamin. And the man who had incited his prison rapes, who’s name he couldn’t even say inside his head.

He’d become them, and they him. They were so deeply sewn into the fabric of who he was as a person that they were now coming to life. He’d given them life. He fed them, nurtured them and he couldn’t just let them go. He’d brought this on himself.

It was an inevitable outcome of years of trauma combined with suddenly withdrawing from his meds and heavy alcohol consumption. He’d given them the tools to break free and he couldn’t be surprised that they’d done just that.

For now all he could do was relish in the quiet before they all came back at him full throttle.

Eat. Shower. Try and clean up this fucking mess. And then…

Then what? The obvious answer was to try and find you, figure out where you’d gone and if you were ever coming back. But how did he go about that? He couldn’t find his phone and you could have gone anywhere.

One thing at a time, Reid. Clean up the vomit. Clean up yourself. Food. Cleanse. Before they return.

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his new cuts howled as he moved. He forced himself towards the kitchen for cleaning supplies.

He barely made it to the sink before he felt an itching in the back of his head. No, not his head…his brain.

And then the voice made itself known, although he struggled to ascertain exactly what voice was assaulting him this time. He supposed it didn’t really matter.

“You can’t run from us, Reid. We’re a part of you now. We all took pieces from you that you’ll never get back. This is your life now. You’re stuck with us. Until the bitter end.”

***

Luke drove at a frightening pace, his foot hugging the accelerator. His hands held the wheel in a white knuckle grip, monopolising the far left lane and overtaking almost every car on the road.

Aside from the radio station filtering into the car, the two of you were silent. You could see the internal battle waging within Luke, the good versus evil debate.

You were evil, you knew that’s how he saw you. But you were trying to do good by Spencer and because of this, Luke didn’t know how to feel towards you.

You felt bad for dragging him into this. From the little you knew of him he seemed like he was a nice guy, a guy who would clearly do anything for the love of his life, who was also the love of your life.

But he would get his reward in the form of getting to take you in, he would be the one to arrest you once Spencer was safe from himself. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make to keep him from harm's way.

After miles of highway landscape zooming before your eyes, you sucked in a breath and turned to Luke in your chair.

“So, uh, how are things with your cowboy?”

Your words caused him to stiffen more so than he already was. His fingers somehow gripped tighter against the wheel.

“Grant. His name is Grant.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Right,” you smiled to yourself. “My question still stands.”

“Why do you care?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“We’re gonna be stuck in this car for at least another three hours, maybe less given the speed you’re gunning it. But I thought I’d try and make conversation.” You shrugged.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, weighing up his options. He knew you were right, as much as he didn’t want to engage you. It would be an incredibly long journey trapped in silence.

“It’s, uh, it’s good. He’s great, he makes me feel like I might finally be able to get over Spencer.” He confessed, unsure why he was telling you this.

“And, ya know, he’s super easy on the eyes.” You chuckled, only just refraining from saying what a good kisser he was. That would have no doubt caused Luke to swerve off of the road if he found out that tidbit of your past.

“He really is.” Luke relaxed a little, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I only know the bare bones about your break up with Spencer, but for what it’s worth I know he still thinks about you. I know he loves me, but I also know a part of him will always love you.” You sighed.

Luke tensed again, his jaw set and his back stiffened against the chair once more. He squared his shoulders like he was gearing up for a fight.

“I don’t think I needed to know that.” He huffed. “I’m crazy about Grant but if Spencer told me tomorrow he wanted me back I would drop everything for him. Kinda like I did when you called and said he was in trouble.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” You spoke softly. “He’s a force unto himself. He’s magnetic, irresistible. Hell, I’m willingly letting you arrest me when this is all over just to ensure his safety. It’s kinda infuriating how he makes it so easy to fall in love with him.”

“It kinda is.” Luke agreed with a wry smile, giving you a sidelong glance again. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Twelve times.” He swallowed. “You shot him twelve fucking times.”

“I did.” You nodded, rolling your lip between your teeth. “And I’ll tell you something, Agent Alvez, I’d do it again too. I’ll admit twelve shots was excessive but if I hadn’t killed him, he would have killed me. He put me and my mom through hell and he deserved what he got.

“Tell me something, Agent. If you could get your hands on the men who abused Spencer in prison, would you hold back? Despite the oath you took, would you be able to steal yourself if confronted by them? Because I don’t think you could. They hurt someone you love and I think, like me, you’re fiercely protective of the people you love. So tell me, would twelve bullets even be enough?”

He felt your eyes on him, heavy and imposing. He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his flesh. He didn’t owe you the truth but he gave it to you anyway.

“There wouldn’t be enough bullets in the world if I ever came face to face with them.” He confessed, his jaw tight as he did so.

“I know you hate me, I know I’m some kind of thorn in your side. But I think that animosity stems from the fact that you understand why I did what I did, and it pains you to think that way because you’re an officer of the law. You vowed to protect and serve, to uphold the laws of this country and ensure justice. But justice isn’t always rewarding.

“I could have called the cops on Sayers, I could have testified and had him put in prison. But as long as he was breathing it would never be over. The same way that while Spencer’s rapists are still alive it will never be over for you. I get that you have a job to do and as promised, if you help Spencer I will go quietly into the good night. But you know you agree with what I did, and that’s why you’ve let my escape consume you.”

You were right and it was proven by the tight pulse of his jaw and the squeezing of his hands against the leather wheel. He didn’t speak to confirm it, he didn’t need to.

The truth was, and Alvez knew it well, that we all harbour a darkness inside of us. He’d kept his well hidden for the most part, but it had come clawing to the surface after Spencer’s incarceration and his face off with Mr Scratch.

When he found out of the true horrors of Spencer’s time in prison, it was impossible to swallow it down again. Ever since it had ebbed just below the surface, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

The very same way yours had when you’d confronted your step father.

As much as he wanted to blame you for what you’d done, he couldn’t because that would make him a hypocrite. You’d taken your revenge on the man who’d hurt you in the same vein Luke wished to seek justice on the men who had raped Spencer.

Of course, he didn’t admit as much out loud. Instead the two of you fell back into that terse silence as you continued on your way to find Spencer.

He only hoped the younger man hadn’t succumbed to his demons in a way that would make it impossible to cloy him back from his own treacherous darkness.

***

The gentle caress of the too hot water tingled his fraught limbs and provoked his open wounds. His sensitive flesh groaned beneath the heat that threatened to encompass him.

The weightlessness of his body sunk deeper in the watery folds, allowing it to rise above his ears in an attempt to cast himself into silence.

It didn’t work. You couldn’t quiet the voices that lived in your head.

“This is a coward's way out. I always knew you were weak.”

“What’s the matter, Spencie? Can’t handle a few little ghosts?”

“And to think we thought you’d be our ultimate sacrifice.”

He descended deeper, the water covering his eyes, barely reaching his nose. He took a few breaths, readying himself for the end.

“Ohh you think Maeve will be waiting for you on the other side? Pur-lease. You’re a sap, I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

“We broke you good, didn’t we? Shame really, even under duress you gave great head.”

“Shut up, just shut up.” He whined, his own voice distant in his water logged ears.

He slid lower with one final breath, letting the scalding water submerge him, maybe even cleanse him. Little bubbles formed on the surface as he instinctively tried to breathe.

Don’t fight it, Reid. Just let it happen. Death has got to be better than this.

He opened his eyes beneath the water, blurry visions of his ceiling would be the last sight to meet his eyes.

His uncontrollable breathing forced water into his lungs, burning his chest, like a flame ripping right from within him. It was shredding, tearing him apart as his brain instinctively fought for a breath he wouldn’t allow.

“Sinner, I told you so. Suicide is the ultimate sin. You will endure his wrath, boy.”

It was a similar breathlessness he’d grown all too accustomed to in his life. When his dad left and he became responsible for his mothers care. When Tobias literally killed him only to bring him back to life.

When Diane Turner took her life and Maeve’s in one single bullet while Spencer could do nothing but stare in abject horror. When he came face to face with Cat again after his release. When Merva held his blade to his throat, readying Spencer to be his three hundredth victim.

When that man and his cronies crept into his cell and forced him to his knees time after time.

The oxygen was fleeing his brain rapidly, everything was becoming hazy around the edges as though looking at the world in soft focus.

Thoughts and voices coalescing, drifting, fading. Soon it would be dark, soon the sounds would disappear entirely and he would finally be alone.

You won’t win, I won’t let you. I would sooner die than walk among you for another second.

An eerie yet peaceful smile pulled at his lips. Any minute now and it would all be over.

“You think killing yourself makes you a martyr? You think this means you win? Jeez for a so-called genius you really are dumb, huh Spencie?”

“Are your cells giving up? Can you feel it?”

“Walk towards the light, join us in our sacrifice.”

“And you said I was the weak one? What the fuck would your mother think of this?”

“The one who sins is the one who will die. The child will not share the guilt of the parent, nor will the parent share the guilt of the child. The righteousness of the righteous will be credited to them, the wickedness of the wicked will be charged against them.”

Ezekiel 18:19 verse 20. I told you I could recite the bible.

“Such a shame to waste such a skilled and pretty mouth.”

Shut up. Shut up. God-fucking-damnit you can all just shut the fuck…

His consciousness was waning, his brain cells dying. It wouldn’t be long before he suffered irreversible anoxic brain damage. Death was upon him, his fiery talons reaching from the depths to come and take him away.

Yes, please. P-please. This has to e-end. I’m ready for t-the end.

Seconds before Spencer Reid surrendered to the ethereal glow of death, something flickered in his blurry field of vision.

Moments before everything turned dark he swore he saw a figure appear above the haze of water. But before he could register it, the lack of oxygen closed in around him and he let himself fade away into the abyss.

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

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thesleepyfable · 14 days

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~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 9: ~

When the Walls Crumbled:

This is it. The long awaited Murine/Muirinnes chapter.

Fun fact: This is my first ever romance piece I've done for any fan-fiction. So, I have no idea if this is good or not.

Another fact: I had already completed this chapter before chapters 7 and 8. This was going to be chapter 7, but I had to map out a timeline when I decided this was going to be a mini-arc, and not a time-jump to post-rescue. Plus, during that time, I decided not to have military involvement. What I have instead you'll soon see.

Tw: Parental abuse and gambling.

Part 10:

Innes couldn't sleep. He found himself staring at the container ceiling. Drool ran down the chin, which only momentarily snapped him out of his daydream. Then right back to it. He tried, but no amount of tossing or turning was helping. Even when he was leaned against Muir, he found no comfort. A quick check from his watch showed it was 2:15am.

'Maybe some fresh air will help?' He asked himself.

With a quick glance at Muir, seeing him sleeping peacefully, Innes carefully moved from his side and made it for the door. He'll go outside, sit at the railing, and have a smoke to himself. Or he would do that if a tendril didn't wrap around his waist. Of course, Muir was secretly awake the entire time. Sneaky little shit. Innes accepted defeat with a deflated sigh and turned to see Muir lift him up and place him in front of his face.

'I thought you were asleep.'

Muir ignored the empty statement.

'Innes, what's wrong?' Because he could sense something. His heartbeat wasn't normal, and he felt it sink at the question. Then there were his eyes. For hours, Innes has had a hurt look in them. Even when he cheered for Brodie and Finlay, and when gorged on the leftovers, the look was still there. Plus, even if they've been practically inseparable, Innes couldn't bring himself to look Muir in his. Even now, Innes was clearly looking through him. 'It's okay. You know it'll be okay.'

Words filled and drowned Innes' mind.

'Stupid boy. You deserve this. How can you look at yourself? Stop being a fucking idiot!'

The words Innes would hear from his father and he'd repeat them as self-punishment.

'Don't cry. You're not a man if you cry!'

He wanted to, but a part of him was always afraid to. He feared his father would find out, even over a hundred miles away and being 6 feet under. That man left a mark that was hard to scrub off. No luck. Even Innes had a breaking point. Tears began to fall, and Muir began to wipe them away.

'Why aren't you mad at me?' A lump formed in his throat, and his heart began to race. 'I left you alone. I just ran whilst you turned into,' he gestured to Muir's exposed ribs. 'This. I'm your supervisor. I'm supposed to look out for you. You said that yourself!' He paused to catch his breath, but to no avail. 'I'm so sorry, Muir.'

The guilt had been eating away at him. Since he heard Muir calling out for him in distress. Even if no one could blame him, Innes' heart felt heavy, and he wanted to be sick. In his mind, because of him, Muir will never be human again. His body blew open and turned inside out with ribs exposed and flesh crawling along the hard-hat, which was possibly the reason it didn't spread further. He lost his hair, his mouth was stretched on one side, and most of his lips had melted away, half-blind despite having multiple eyes, and his innards hung inches from the floor. It was all his fault. Muir's cry for help will be something he can never forgive or forget.

'Innes, where ya going?!'

'INNNNNEEEEEEEES!'

'Innes? Help me, Innes!'

'Innes? Where's Innes? I just need help, eh?'

How was Muir able to break down the walls he tried so hard to build? What was this man to him? Innes never cried, and yet in one day, he cried over him twice. Not even his ex-wife got him to cry when she left him for someone else. He didn't cry when his house got repossessed through his gambling. And he certainly didn't cry when he heard his dad had passed. A tendril kept wiping his tears away. Muir pulled him closer, and Innes hugged what he could of his face. He didn't want to let go.

The last 3 years raced through his mind. Innes remembered the day he was called up to Rennick's office. At first, he thought it was because he had rolled up his sleeves and pants because of the unbearable summer heat. He wasn't too happy to hear he'd be looking after a newcomer with no prior training, but he did get a bollocking for the uniform.

Muir stepped off the chopper without a single hair out of place or crease in his uniform. Like all new hires, he had brought too much baggage. A backpack and small suitcase. Innes knew more than half of that wasn't going to see the light of day for months. Always amusing to see. He lingered at the steps with crossed arms and a smirk. Rennick introduced himself with that fake yet convincing smile to the untrained eye. In all honesty, Innes thought Muir had brided his way to become a deckhand. How can someone just leave their family farm and instantly work on an oil rig? Still, he grinned and taught Muir everything he could, even if he kept his walls up.

He couldn't tell when they began to crumble, but whenever there was a crack, he would try to mend it. It was exhausting. A fight he had to surrender because as much as he denied it, feelings started to bloom. He hoped they would go overtime, but the opposite happened. Muir's looks, his smell, his laugh, and even his clumsy nature that has gotten the pair in more than enough trouble, just made Innes -

Oh. That's why. Because for the first time in years, Innes was genuinely happy.

'I love you.' He let out a shakey breath and sniffled as he pulled away. The muscles in his neck twitched as he smiled. The hurt look in his eyes was gone, and he could finally look at Muir. His heart continued to race and skip a beat. 'I wished I told you sooner.' He noticed Muir began to cry, but with a smile on the one side of his face. One of pure joy, as if all the problems in the world had washed away. Now, it was Innes' turn to wipe his tears. He'd noticed his right eye was completely open again, and his nose at some point had been put back into shape.

'I've been waiting three years for you to say that.' He stifled a laugh and lightly squeezed Innes' waist. 'I love you too, my big man.'

'I think that's you now.'

'Don't get smart with me.'

The pair shared a mix of laughter and cries. They pulled each other together for another long hug. Innes kissed Muir above his good eye, then at the bridge of his nose, where they placed their foreheads together. They dried each other's tears. Muir moved his head towards Innes to replicate a nuzzle on a part of his shoulder.

It might be the middle of winter, but they felt warm. It was inviting. It was new. It was something they didn't want to let go of, so they stayed like this. Frozen in time.

Roy opened the door. Neither had come for breakfast, so he thought it was best to check up on them. He found the pair huddled together. Tendrils wrapped around Innes like a blanket, except for his arms hugging them in return. Muir lightly snored, stretched, and gently pulled Innes closer.

He was no expert, but Roy could tell. He slowly closed the door and left the pair. What harm would another hour do?

#Still Wakes the Deep #Still Wakes the Deep: Still Here AU #My Writing #Muirinnes #Murine

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twipsai · 2 months

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its finally done! happy wsatw everyone <333

word count: 1,817

At 10:39 PM on Saturday, every single person anywhere on either coasts of the continent, and people looking to cross either border of the United Federation, felt a harsh gust of wind.

Commotion ensued, but Sonic, of course, didn’t stick around to see it. When he arrived back at Emerald Coast, he cut back into the city and zoomed past cars cruising along Speed Highway. He ran in front of a few of them, daring them to hit him before swooping away at the last second. Before the fifth exit whizzed by, Sonic bounced over the guardrail and took off through the bare-bones forested area, hopping up and jumping from rooftop to rooftop before he hit the ground running. He passed through lots more cramped neighborhoods on the outskirts of Central City until he made it to the Night Babylon district, where he ran up the side of some random building, speeding up to the top—

And tripped.

And fell.

He just laid there for a moment, before flipping himself over as rapid, shallow breaths racked his body.

Running didn't get tiring. Not normal running, anyway— when he had food in his stomach, water in his blood, and eight hours of sleep.

In the moment, though, with his limbs sore and shaking, he thought this must be like how it felt if the average person ran just a hundred miles. Or maybe even only ninety.

The world kept spinning. It always did, and it wouldn't wait for him to get over whatever funk he was in. He hit his fist dully on the concrete ground.

He should go back to Mystic Ruins. To make sure Tails was okay, of course. Not to sleep or eat or anything, really. Then he would go back to running— patrolling. He was patrolling to make sure no one was causing trouble while everyone else rested. Of course. He pushed himself up.

Sonic didn't cry that day. Not once. Because if the only person who saw him cry was dead now, then no one had any proof.

And now, running back to his little brother's workshop, he could chalk the tears in his eyes up to the wind beating at his face.

The trip was just a bit slower than it probably would have been normally. It was like his body was protesting against moving his legs, one after the other. He almost collapsed on the porch once he reached it when a wave of exhaustion hit him upon seeing the home, but pushed through the door and shoved himself up the stairs. A chill shuttered through his body, forcing him to realize just how cold he was now that he was inside, and he made a quick pitstop in his room to yank his comforter off the bed and bundle himself in it.

Tails’ room was just down the hall, but he already knew the kit wasn’t in there. For one, the door was open, and Tails hates it when his door’s open. And for two, his self-imposed bed time when he thought Sonic wasn’t around was around three in the morning (but, more recently, it had started stretching to four). So, he begrudgingly hauled himself back down the stairs and through the Tornado’s hangar, giving her a pat on the wing for good luck, and arriving at Tails’ workshop door. A strange sweet smell emanated from the room.

He gently pushed open the door, the sweet and somewhat nostalgic smell becoming stronger. The moment he stepped through the door, Tails’ ear flicked, and he spun his chair around, yipping in surprise. “Sonic! You’re back!” His face then morphed into a bright smile as he waved him over and spun back to continue his work.

The plan was to just check in for a bit, maybe send his brother to bed, but now… Well, maybe he’d rest for a bit. Just a bit. He leaned over Tails’ shoulder. “For a bit, yeah. What’s that smell?”

“Oh, uh, blowtorch s’mores.”

“Huh?”

Tails held up a stick with a jumbo marshmallow at the end and a blowtorch. It was only then that Sonic noticed the graham crackers and chocolate bars where mechanic tools should’ve been on the workbench. “Blowtorch s’mores,” he repeated.

“Uh, yeah, I heard you, heh. What’s the occasion?” Sonic hopped up and sat on the workbench, blanket draping over the corner and barely touching the ground.

“Science.”

“Okayyyyy… Can I have one?”

“Sure! Here—” he picked up a second blowtorch that was haphazardly thrown under the table— “just click that button and it'll turn on, and release it to turn it off.”

Sonic yoinked a marshmallow from the package and stuck it on the end of one of the roasting sticks Tails had rested on the side of his workbench. “Ssso, whatcha—” He got cut off by his own throat spurring into a coughing fit. Turns out 24 hours without a drop of water in his system did some real shitty things. Tails immediately shoved a water bottle into his free hand that was about to pick up the blowtorch; he downed the bottle in all of 3 seconds and mumbled a quick ‘thanks’, wiping his mouth. “Whatcha been working on?” he finished.

“Well, before I got distracted by this,” Tails set his perfectly toasted marshmallow aside and turned to the graham crackers splayed out, lightly melting the chocolate laid out on top. “I was fixing up the Cyclone! She got really damaged yesterday…”

“Oof. How bad?”

“Not too bad, I think I did a pretty good job back there,” Tails said with a smug grin. Sonic mentally cheered him on. “But I have to fix up and replace a lot of her casing that got too dented to be safe. And some quick repairs to her engine, ‘cuz Eggman kinda busted it up with his bullets…”

“Wait, what? When did Eggman shoot at you?” He put the blowtorch to the marshmallow, letting the flame consume it until it lit up the entire room, burning so bright the fire’s image was seared into his eyelids.

He knew he didn’t have enough power to save him and fly the both of them back to the ARK. Had he succeeded in grabbing hold of Shadow, they both would’ve died that day. He reached out anyway.

“Maria, this is what you wanted, right? This is my promise I made to you…”

As his hand was waved away, his fingers accidentally curled around the golden bracelet. It snapped off.

The last glimmer of white faded from his fur, and he fell.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and clutched the bracelet close to his chest.

Sonic blew out the flame once it had charred the outside of the marshmallow.

“Yeah, after he tried to blow you up.”

“And did you show him what for…?”

“Hehe, maybeee…”

“Hell yeah!” He set down the blowtorch and ruffled the kit’s bangs as he constructed his s’more. “That’s how I know I raised you right!”

“Pffft— Sonic, stoppp!”

“Okay, okay,” he let up and took out his own crackers and chocolate, smushing the ingredients together and taking a big bite. Gaia, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was… “But,” he said through a mouthful of sugar gunk, “I’m still proud of you, little bro.”

“R– Right! Thank you!”

Sonic practically scarfed down his s’more and went in for another one. “But the Cyclone’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah! She’ll be okay, but I might take it easy on her for a little while… Those chaos drives got me thinking maybe I put a little too much focus on offense? I mean, it’s mostly for fighting, but if I took out the extra propulsions for rockets and slimmed down the auto-aimer, I could make some more room to add a holo-shield, plus I’d have even more room if I used just one chaos drive to power my ammo rather than what I have in there now!”

Tails rambled on, his explanations becoming more and more weird and sciency with terms spliced in that Sonic had no hope of understanding. A fond smile made its way on his face as he burnt his second marshmallow, looking at the kit.

“—But I think I can make it work! If I rework the leg hydraulics to be lighter, then the rocket boost can—”

“You know I love you, right, little bro?”

Tails stopped, half his s’more in his hand. “...Huh?”

“I said—”

“I heard you. Of course I know, hehe… I love you too, big bro!” Tails bonked his head against Sonic’s arm.

“Heh, just checking.” It was no use to dwell too much. His entire body ached with grief, but if he let it drown everything around him out, he’d never hear the wind when it called to him with the promise of adventure.

It hurt so much, but he had to keep going. For his own sake, of course, but…

But also because Shadow, in his brief time on Earth, didn’t get that kind of freedom. So he’d live for him, if that’s what it took to get him out of this weird funk.

“Hey, how about we hit up the Station Square Diner in the morning? My treat!”

Tails’ eyes lit up. Maybe not at the prospect of the food, but more likely at the suggestion to hang out. “Yeah, that sounds awesome!” Tails finished his first s’more, while Sonic finished eating his second.

“Then it’s settled! C’mon, let’s head to bed now so we can beat the morning rush tomorrow,” Sonic said, standing up and stretching with his comforter’s edge balled up in his fists.

“Aw, but I wanted to work on the Cyclone—”

“Nope! Sorry, but you’re under contractual obligation now, Mister Prower!”

“That’s not how contracts work— eek!”

Sonic grabbed him and bundled the two of them in the comforter, carrying the kit awkwardly on his hip as he struggled. “That’s why you gotta read the fine print, heh.”

“Stoooop! Let me gooo!”

“Nope! It’s sleepy time for geniuses and speedsters!” Sonic dragged both his aching body and the kit’s struggling one up the stairs to the house part of the lab and flopped down on the couch.

“Sonic?”

“Tails?”

“Are we sleeping on the couch tonight?”

“If you don’t mind, then yeah.”

“Hehe, I don’t mind. It reminds me of when we’d sleep outside.”

“Oh?”

Tails shifted so he wasn’t awkwardly pressed against the back of the couch. “Yeah, that’s why I was making s’mores, too. ‘Cuz, u– um. I kinda missed you just a little bit today…”

A small laugh managed to slip out of him. “Aw, bud… maybe I should give phones another try so we can talk while I’m on the go.”

Tails yawned. “That’d be nice…”

Sonic adjusted to make sure his neck wouldn’t hurt like hell in the morning. “G’night, little bro.”

“Good night, big bro.”

#i usually dont put fics in posts themselves but idk im trying a new formatting! eh idk #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic adventure 2 #sonic fic #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #unbreakable bond #wsatw #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #wstw

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arealphrooblem · 1 year

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Mutually Assured Destruction Part 11 -- The End!

This is the last part everyone! I may right little snippets after this one if the inspiration strikes, but this is the definitive end to the series.

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

CW: Mentions of death, low self-esteem thoughts, brief vague mention of sex at the end, two kisses

Part One Here

Part Ten Here

At first, they thought he was sick. Jonathan didn’t ever give them a cell phone number, so they couldn’t call and check on him. By Wednesday they drove round for three hours after work, trying to find the neighborhood that housed his apartment, with no luck. By Friday, worry stayed a constant pit in their stomach.

Monday morning brought the news that Jonathan had “transferred” to another in another part of the country. Civilian had to suffer all day through the cloying sympathy of their coworkers. Gloria had even hugged them. Everyone assumed a breakup occurred so horribly awkward that it drove Jonathan to move several hundred miles away a week before the holidays.

For the rest of December, Civilian kept up religiously with the news, looking for something big enough to fit the plans Jonathan had hinted at — massive art theft, large scale arson, hell even a government coup.

There was nothing save for constant Christmas ads that Civilian tuned out.

Eventually they had to accept the truth that Jonathan had just got the fuck out of dodge and didn’t look back. Fine. Civilian knew their ‘relationship’ had an expiration date, that it had never existed in the first place. But they had expected some kind of goodbye, even if it had been a threat to stay quiet — not this slipping away in the dead of night like a ghost.

Maybe his plans fell through and he had to leave before someone else discovered him. Maybe the Agency had found him despite his best efforts and he had to abandon everything. Both scenarios were more likely than the one echoing cruelly in Civilian’s head at night:

That they had driven him away; that he couldn’t take their needy loneliness anymore and bounced.

It’s a thought that hounded them for the next six months, followed them as closely and loyally as their own shadow. As the weeks drifted by, Civilian burrowed further and further inside themselves, rejecting offers from Gloria to eat lunch, rejecting their mother’s requests to call or visit, rejecting drinks after work with the other members of their department.

It wasn’t that Jonathan broke their ability to trust anyone — it was the stubborn, naive belief that if Civilian chose to be alone then they weren’t lonely, that it didn’t count because it was self-imposed, a choice, a preference. And being around other people reminded them so sharply of feeling not alone that they couldn’t handle its absence once the night was over.

The whole thing was ridiculous, and Civilian berated themselves at each night for it. They were acting childish and silly. Jonathan was right: the only thing stopping them from having friends was their own fear. They could find a new job, move to a new city, find a place where Jonathan had never set foot in and build anew.

But they didn’t.

And six months later, the bank went under.

Ironically, the one thing Civilian needed to watch the news for, they had ignored in favor of a Buzzfeed shopping list. Their mom had sent a text with a link to a video and a series of question marks.

Isn’t this your bank????

The video explained how the entire board of directors had been arrested for fraud and embezzlement to the tune of billions.

Billions with a B.

After that number, Civilian’s attention went a little fuzzy. The explanation of the complex series of fund transfers and shell corporations and blah blah blah faded to the background as Civilian tried desperate to work out just how the hell Jonathan made it happen.

Over the weeks, each man screamed his innocence of course, but camera footage and witness testimonies — even ones from the other board directors, all eager to stab each other in the back — denied those claims. Each director passed a psych test with flying colors, despite their protests of their body moving with out their consent. It all looked very much like a bunch of disgustingly wealthy men got caught trying to illegally make themselves even more disgustingly richer.

After a certain point, Civilian could have spoken up about Jonathan, and no one would have believed them anyway.

It was the perfect crime and now Jonathan was walking out there will several billion dollars in his pocket and Civilian . . .

Well Civilian was now out of a job, living off a pathetic severance package, and trying to find a solution to their problem that did not involve moving back in with their mother.

It happened in the middle of the night. The ear-popping pressure of a powerful aura dragged them from sleep. In the soft darkness of their bedroom, they could just make out a shadowy figure looming over them.

In seconds confusion crystalized sharply into fear. Civilian’s hands dove under the pillow for the knife they kept there and yanked it out. Their hand froze in the air, gripped by invisible fingers Civilian knew all too well.

“Did you just pull a fucking knife on me?” The figure asked incredulously.

The familiarity of his voice hit them like a physical ache, like a thumb on a bruise.

“Jonathan?”

The lamp switched on, bathing the room in a dim glow. Civilian squinted and blinked against the sudden light. Standing there, eyebrows raised and dressed in all black, was Jonathan Anderson.

The knife gleamed between them. He glanced between it and Civilian and shook his head.

“You should give me that before you hurt yourself.”

He took the knife gently out of their forcibly relaxed fingers and set it on the nightstand, far out of their reach.

Their chest was a swirling maelstrom of too many emotions to count — joy and fear and anxiety and relief.

But most of all anger.

How dare he just show up after ten months of nothing.

“You should go fuck yourself,” they retorted, sitting up and swinging their legs over the side.

“Awww, Civilian, did I upset you by leaving?” He gave them a mocking frown. “Did you miss me?”

The truth of his words pierced them, sending a hot flush of humiliation up their neck.

“No, I did not miss you, you sick on of a bitch — ”

Jonathan bent down, cupping their face in his hands and cutting them off with a fierce, almost desperate kiss.

“I missed you,” he breathed. “So fucking much.”

Civilian’s heart pounded like thunder in their ears. How often did they daydream this kind of moment happening, and yet now that it was here, they couldn’t help but doubt it. It felt dangerous to believe it.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” they demanded. “For all I know, you could be here to kill me and — and tie up loose ends.”

Jonathan had the gall to laugh. “Where do you think we are — a mobster movie? Do you think I’m going to tie cinder blocks to your legs and throw you off the pier?”

“You wouldn’t need the cinder blocks to make sure I drowned,” they said mulishly. “You wouldn’t even need a pier. You could make me smother myself right now with my own pillow.”

Why they were arguing this, they had no idea. Perhaps stubbornly clinging to the belief that he didn’t care about them protected them from hope. Jonathan’s grin faded into something more somber as he studied them. Then he slowly sank down on one knee before them, putting him at just under eye level.

“Why would I come here to kill you after everything I’ve done to protect you?”

“Protect me? Is that what you calling taking off with no goodbye like I didn’t mean anything?”

“Tell me, Civilian, how suspicious it would have looked if I had stolen all that money and then skipped town? How many people would be scrutinizing the newest hire that suddenly disappeared and anyone who associated with him? How long before the Agency would come sniffing around, looking for someone with my skill-set, and find you and your glorious little secret? Hmm? Tell me.”

Civilian glared at him and his tight, unbeatable logic. How dare he make sense.

“Some warning would have been nice,” they said instead, crossing their arms. “I thought I had — that you ran because — ”

They couldn’t finish the thought, it was too embarrassing. How stupid they had been, obsessing over a silly kiss, when Jonathan was executing such grand larceny on an unheard of scale. Like he had even spared it a second thought.

He gave them a knowing, crooked smile. “You thought I took off because you kissed me and I flipped out.”

“No,” they lied. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous,” he agreed. “It’s the one thing that made it hard to leave in the first place. And I couldn’t let you know, in case someone did question you. You were my insurance, not my accomplice.”

The one thing that made it hard to leave. Staying angry at Jonathan was getting more and more difficult. Civilian tried to hold onto it, but it slipped through their fingers like an eel.

“So the bank . . .that really was you?” they asked.

This time his smile widened into a full smirk. “Beautiful, wasn’t it?”

“Beautiful? It fucked over a lot of people — including me! I’m out of a job now, you prick.”

He shrugged. “People will move on just like they always have. As for you . . .that’s why I’m here.” He reached out and traced the pad of his thumb down their jawline. “To spirit you away.”

Civilian fought and failed to hold back a shiver at the light touch. “You mean kidnap me.”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t volunteer for it,” he said. “You’re being very stubbornly angry with me. You must have missed me quite a bit.”

They swallowed thickly. “I hate you,” they lied.

He smile, soft and gentle, his thumb swiping over their bottom lip. “You wish you did.”

Civilian’s pulse fluttered. They wanted very badly to kiss his thumb, his hand, anywhere they could reach. “And where would you take me?” they whispered instead.

Jonathan turned his hand so the back of his knuckles brushed over their cheekbone. “Where do you want to go? I have more money than God, Civilian. We can go anywhere in the world and disappear and never have to look over our shoulders again. What say you to that?”

“What happens if I say no?”

As tempting as his offer was, they had to ask the question, regardless. His answer determined everything.

“You will never have to see me again,” he said, taking his hand away. “And I will find a way to anonymously give you enough money to do whatever you wish in a way that can’t be traced. With me or without me, you will have the same freedom from the Agency that I do. I had planned for that for a long time.”

Whatever resentment for their months alone evaporated in an instant. This time Civilian took his face in their hands and kissed him, long and fierce.

“Take me to Greece first,” they said. “I want to see the ruins.”

Taglist: @those-damn-snippets@heroes-villains-side-blog@anonymousewrites@follow-me-into-the-fog@sunnyside-world, @rivalriotrenegade@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room@midnightsillusions@villain-obsessed-word-nerd@deflated-bouncingball @pickleking8 @cesspitoflove@to-sneak-away-and-hide@im-a-wonderling@hasel-anne@ghostly-writer@moonknight-s-cumdump@valiantlytransparentwhispers@galactic-squiddo@boomimhere@organizedchaos03@dungeon-roomba@vidiaka@powerflower119 @cbiom @meltedgallium@skevethefool@sarcasticlittlebook@lisapicklemagick@dragonfirephoenixflame, @royalmuffinsworld@sillypeachduck

#my writing #hero x villain #villain x civilian #enemies to lovers #writeblr #mutually assured destruction

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swifty-fox · 6 months

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What Comes After

blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.

Fanfic/Sequel of

Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail

Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.

Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).

There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake?

And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time.

You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.

A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale.

“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock.

Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard.

His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.

“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face.

“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.

“Gale?”

“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt.

Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.

“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately.

“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.”

Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.

John needed to be Home.

Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”

“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”

There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”

“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly.

Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case.

“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.”

“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.”

“Y’don’t have t-”

“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.”

Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really.

“I almost lost him, Curt.”

“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”

“Together,” he echoes.

“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.

The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again.

Nobody tells him how to handle that.

Gale falls asleep on the couch instead.

-*~*-

When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality.

Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.

Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.

Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it.

There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing.

Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.

He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.

When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots.

Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.

“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale.

Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison

That can’t be very good for Bucky.

Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.

When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.

“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.

This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.

Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite.

Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief.

“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got here safe”

“Does he know?”

Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”

“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.”

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.

“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good.

-*~*-

When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked.

He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?

“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching.

Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives.

Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.

“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring,

Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.

#swiftywrites #buck x bucky #cleven #buck cleven #john egan #gale cleven #bucky egan #bitches have too many names #curt biddick #young vets au #suicide tw #mota

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