#And some of these bitches die everyday sadly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madllamamomma · 3 years

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The Visitor~ Part 6

Muriel x Rhemi (OC) fanfic

[WARNING: Some topics can be triggering to some readers including, mention of violence, blood/gore, mental health issues, abuse, etc.]

Part 6~

Ghosts~

In the palace, Sir Martin sits quietly in the green chair next to the fire. His daughter should be here any moment. The cracking of the burning wood alway relaxed him, eventually making his eyes heavy… Soon he drifts to sleep.

As he opens his eyes, he finds himself sitting on an old rickety chair that looks like it's about to break at any moment. With an annoyed scoff, his eyes look around, he is in a terribly drabby house, full of holes in the straw roof where the sunlight shines through and mice hide in the walls. He always hated this place--Despised is more like it. He absolutely hated when his dreams would drift him back here to this often empty house. But then, she walks into the room, her hands full with the heavy laundry basket… His hatred drifted away.

She was a beautiful young woman, no older than eighteen, her hair s burgundy brown and curly, pulled back into a handkerchief and her gorgeous teal blue eyes and wearing commoner’s clothes with a dingy apron around her waist. Just like always, she acted like it was just another ordinary day and as cheery as ever.

“Well! Good morning, my little rabbit.” She says with a smile as she sits and folds the laundry.

“..... Morning.” Martin gently replies, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head. He knows this is just a dream. “Why… Why does this keep happening?”

For a moment she stops folding, and looks up at him with such gleaming and loving eyes, tilting her head and looking at Martin with such concern.

“Why here?.... Why this moment?” He frustratedly mutters. “And not any other moment. Just…. This. One?”

The young woman sighs and lightly shrugs, shaking her head. “... You tell me, little rabbit.”

Martin tries to stand up from his chair, but like always, he is stuck in one place. Angry, he tries and tries but something is keeping him here in this one spot.

“You know that doesn’t help any.” She says sadly. “It never has…”

A deep sigh expels from his lungs again as he finally accepts his situation and his eyes peer back to the young woman, pain in his cold teal eyes. “..... Why didn’t you just stay home that day?” He asks with gritted teeth and folded hands. “I... I told you not to go.”

Tears start to well in her eyes as she looks at him silently, slowly standing to her feet. The house just evaporates, replaying it with a foggy gray atmosphere. “Why didn’t you come with me?” She whispers as her feet lift off the ground.

An eerie high pitch ringing overwhelming his ears as she keeps staring at him as she stops levitating about three feet from the ground. A terrifying crack emanates from her neck as it snaps quickly to the right.

Martin shutters stifling his tears, shutting his eyes tightly and turning his head away from the horror. But suddenly feels himself waking up from the warm licks from Beatrix’s tongue.

------

Fluttering his eyes open, he finds Beatrix in his lap, looking at him slightly concerned. “Little Piegon’s here, Master.” Her scratchy voice mutters in his head.

Martin rubs his tired eyes, and smoothing back his plum and gray hair. “Thank you, Bea.”

Waiting patiently, Martin stares into the fire, in deep thought, wondering why his dreams keep taking him to that dreadful day. If it wasn’t that dream, it was always about Florence and Rhemielia. The night that she and their child were whisked away. All the while he was trapped underneath a pile of fiery debris, and his skin burning his right arm.

---------- Later that day-----

As Rhemi steadily makes her way back to the shop, taking three times as long. Her lack of oxygen is taking its toll on her. “This….. fucking thing!….” She huffs to herself, gasping for air in between her thoughts as she takes a seat on a nearby barrel. “...*huff* Fuck….*huff*.... This…*huff*...*huff*..... Corset!”

After getting adequate rest, she stands to her feet and clasps the small part of her waist feeling the corset digging into the tops of her hip bones.

“... Fuck this dress. Fuck that Oliver guy. Fuck this day...” She grumbles to herself under her breath, attempting to ignore all the wide eyed stares from the citizens she passes, hoping that no one would recognize her. “Fuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthis….” She grumbles to herself, face beat red. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Finally, the shop was within her sight as the sun was setting over the city. It took so long to get here! Rhemi thinks to herself, realizing that the lamplighters are hard at work lighting the dark streets. She left the palace around three o’clock, it's probably almost five or so now. If anything came out of this, it’s respect for the poor aristocrats in Charlès who actually wore this stuff on the regular bases! Why would anyone want to wear this stuff everyday? Did Mum really wear this crap? This is awful!

Opening the door to the shop never felt so good. God, I can’t wait to get inside! I am so happy to be home. She rejoiced in her head. Finally home! Three different voices muffled on the other side of the door. Rhemi knew right away who they all belonged to. Then, a horrible thought comes to mind as she turns the key in the lock after taking down the protection spell. ….Oh no….. Oh god!.... What the hell are they gonna say about this abomination??

Then again…. she was so tired at this point, she didn’t really care. The pain of the corset outweighed the pain of her friend's judgement. With as much air as she could fill in her restricted lungs, she bravely opens the door, all three pairs of eyes immediately falling on her.

Asra excitedly starts to greet his friend with a brilliant smile. “Hey! There she is! Welcome…” But then stops as he sees her, his eyes wide, his smile crumples into a shocked snicker.

The lively chattering that filled the room suddenly ceases, the only thing that can be heard is the creaking of the rusty hinges of the shop door as it shuts behind her.

Awkwardly, Rhemi just stands in the doorway as Asra, Faust, Muriel, and Julian just stare at her. None of them could help but stifle their laughs at the overly fluffy dress that she’s wearing.

Julian opens and closes his mouth attempting to formulate a sentence.“That's… errr….. It’s… Ummm-aahhhhh..” He stammers as he rubs his face, searching for a compliment. But of course, Asra stands next to him, covering his smile with his clasped hands and eyes wide, his thoughts very apparent.

Looking silently between them all, realizing that they were trying to be as kind about it as possible. “.... It’s fucking atrocious, isn’t it?” Rhemi finally verbally admits with a half straight face.

“It’s a goddamn travesty is what it is.” Asra spits out as soon as she completes her sentence. All four of them stand there silently all waiting how’d be the first to crack.

Suddenly, all of them sputter into hard laughter at the same time, breaking the terrible silence.

“My god!.... What the hell is this thing anyways??” Julian adds overdramatically gesturing to the hips. “Rhemi-dear, are you wearing ….crinoline??”

“... Crino-What??” Muriel mumbles as he squints his eyes.

“It’s a type of tortuous device placed under dresses that a deranged idiot designed to make your hips look inhumanly large.” She replies nonchalantly as attempts to reach back for the buttons, trying to contort herself to do so. But, try as she might, the poor apprentice couldn’t reach without completely tearing the sleeves. However, as stubborn as she is, she continues to try to reach in hope to get out of this over-tightened corset. All at the same time, Muriel, Asra, and Julian try to figure out the reason why she’s wearing the damn overly extravagant monstrosity.

“....There are… So… many bows….” Muriel mutters as tugs at one to study it, seemingly not liking the texture and his face hilariously cringing hard.

“Oh… I know!….. It’s bad, huh, Muri?”

“Reallllllly bad.”

“Did you lose a bet, Rem?” Asra teases, still laughing his ass off.

“Nooooooo,” A whine emanates from her mouth and her bottom lip pops out. Despite her cute pout, the corner of the lips still twist up into a grin making her slightly look like a duck. Slightly frustrated, but also entertained by her stupid situation, she sighs deeply and slouches as much as she could (given her restrictive outfit).

About having enough of trying, she huffs feeling rather defeated, but still smiles at her friends. “If you three are gonna keep dishing out colorful insults, you might as well help me out of it... I can’t freakin’ breathe!”

“... Yo-... You can’t get out by yourself, Rem??” Muriel snorts, forcefully hiding a very amused smile, trying to politely withhold a bellowing laugh at her situation. “Sorry… It’s not funny.” He mumbles as he presses his lips together even tighter.

“Do you really think I would have come home with this... thing if I could take it off myself?? It took… like…. Five people to get me in this abomination!”

“Are you.... Errr…. Decent underneath all of it?” Julian warily asks, his eye quickly glancing towards Muriel while he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t worry Ilya, you’ve seen more at the beach. I have a shift or… or slip…? -Whatever it’s called under the corset.” Say says lifting up the dreaded skirt showing the many layers of cloth on her body. “Pft! This bitch has so many layers, it puts our wedding cake to shame.”

“Oh god.” Muriel chuckles, his laughter making his broad shoulder shake, not doing a very good job to keep it in.

“Ohhh! Shut your face!” Rhemi playfully smacks her finacè’s stomach. “Now, please! Get me out of this damn thing! I feel like my boobs are suffocating me! Do you guys want me to die from titty asphyxiation?!”

“I’d argue that it wouldn't be a bad demise!” The doctor chuckles with his dubious smile of his.

“Shuddup Ilya!” Rhemi playfully elbows her friend, slightly knocking the wind out of him.

But he continues to laugh and laugh,as he holds his stomach nearly hyperventilating. “..We-.... We’ll write on your tombstone, ...‘Here lies Rhemi… Escaped death once from the plague to die from a common corset.’..”

Asra chortles, nearly crying now as Faust happily hisses, “Rhemi a tent!”

Out of the sea of laughter, Rhemi finds herself feeling more light headed, unable to contain her giggles either. “Hey! Less talkie, more unbutton-ie! I am literally dying over here! I am not joking when I said that I nearly passed out a few times over here. I left around three!”

The mountain man’s face suddenly becomes more serious as she says that, his laughter completely silenced “Wait…. Really?? Are… you ok?”

“I mean… I made it here, didn’t I?” She says with a shrug and a half grin.

A warm grumble rumbles from his lips as he mutters, “That’s not…”

“—Alright, alright, alright! Turn around, ya big baby.” Asra teases her, finally feeling pity for her. “Let’s get you out of this thing… Then we’ll have a bonfire. Haha!”

It took some time, but after some troubleshooting and a bit of magic, the three managed to peel the dress, the extra layers, and the crinoline off, leaving only her tight overbust, and a shift underneath. With surgical hands, Julian and Asra loosened the loops.

Finally, the corset was loosened, Rhemi took in a large breath of fresh air as if she had just made love. “Ahhhhhhhh~ Sooooo much better.”

“Better wait a few minutes before loosening it again.” Julian adds with a serious doctor face. “Don’t want you actually passing out.”

“Tha-that's a thing that can happen??” A very wary Muriels asks.

“Why, yes! If you let it out too quickly, you can pass out… Your blood pressure can drop and leave a person unconscious. Happened a few times to the actors at the theater.”

“That's….. Worrisome.” Muriel says as his eyes fall on his fiancée again, and pointing to the corset. “You never told me these things were hazardous.”

Unable to contain herself, Rhemi takes her lover’s large hand and holds it with both of hers with an empathetic expression. He’s so cute. “Aww! I never wear them this tight, honey! I like the way my corsets look and feel on my body. But this one is garbage!”

“Actually it’s not that bad.” Julian says peeling away the cloth and exposing the boning structure underneath. “.....It’s made out of whale bone! It’s expensive and very strong. It’s just not your size.”

“Oh! Speaking of expensive, that reminds me.” Julian takes out Rhemi’s coin purse and hands it back to her, only a few coins used. “I believe this belongs to you.”

It takes a few moments before she realizes that the doctor never used her money last night, she instantly pouts. “Ilya!! You’re drinks were supposed to be on me you dork!”

“Rhemi-dear, what happened at tea the other day was not your fault!”

You mean ‘what my father said’. She thinks to herself. “But— My father— it wasn’t right what he—”

“—You can’t control what that basta—.. dahhhhhhh errrrrr... I mean…. What he says.”

“... Nice save.” Asra whispers to his lover.

“I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am. I… I kinda regret inviting him. Tea was just so awkward. It should have been just us, like Nadia planned it.”

Julian wraps his long arms around Rhemi’s shoulders for a friendly hug. “Please don’t apologize. I’ve honestly heard worse.”

“I’m still sorry it happened.”

“Hey, don't worry about it. It’s not worth it.” He then moves his arm and takes a seat in the velvet couch never to Asra, causing them to lazily lean on his shoulder. Slowly, Faust slithers over to Julian and he tries his best not to get chills. “So…. Ahhhh… Ya gonna tell us why you are wearing this….. Errr…. getup?”

“... My father apparently brought his own tailor on board with him… Names Oliver… real piece of freakin’ work!... My father wanted him to give the dress as a present to me. It’s apparently the latest fashion from Charlès… All the noble women wear something like it.”

“..... Sooooo… I assume that he didn’t take it too well that you two aren’t moving to Charlès.” Asra asks, handing her own clothes to her so she could get comfortable.

“Wait, he wanted you both to move??” Julian cluelessly interjects with his left eye wide.

An intense pressure suddenly overtakes Rhemi’s stomach as if gravity doubled on her intestines. How the hell is she supposed to explain what happened today? Not only did her father still want her to leave Vesuvia, but he wants her alone to move and marry someone of nobility in Charlès!

“....Actually, he was very understanding.” She flat out lies before she could stop herself.

Rhemi, what are you doing?? She screams internally. Why are you lying again?!

“... He was of course disappointed, but he was very respectful about it!” She continues as if her mouth had a mind of its own, her body posture scarily calm and believable. “... But it’s best not to mention it to him… He’s still very disappointed. Might spark a nerve with him. Ya know?”

Asra and Julian exchange a surprised look as they hear this. Julian rubs the back of his hand and sighs, “He doesn’t seem to be the understanding type--”

“—Well, he might surprise you.” Rhemi defensively interrupts. “He might be very posh and rigid on the outside…. But I know, deep down he just cares about me.”

Muriel stares down at her with his knowing emerald eyes completely unconvinced as she walks past him to head upstairs to get changed. She dared not look at him for too long. He had a way of making her break. But how could she explain this to him? To…. well, anyone?? Her father didn’t even acknowledge that she was getting married.

No. She just…. Has to fix this before anyone knows. She had to.

———————

After Rhemi got dressed, the four of them all had a nice dinner that Muriel and Asra whipped up. It was chicken souvlaki wrapped in a pita and other greens.

After that, the two couples went their separate ways for the night. Asra and Julian stayed at the shop, while Rhemi and Muriel went back home to the hut.

She feared that he might bring up what she said before dinner, about her father accepting thor decision not to leave. He always knows when she’s bullshitting. That's the problem when you get to know someone so well. It's a sixth sense, knowing something is wrong.

But to her surprise, he stayed quiet. She reads a book on the bed as he whittles next to Inanna by the fire. Eventually, her eye starts to become heavy and she shuts her books and gets into her nightgown. Muriel follows her lead. Soon, all three get comfortable in the bed, taking their normal positions. Rhemi on the left side of the bed, Muriel at the right, and Inanna at the foot. The apprentice always laid on his bare chest snuggling up and getting warm.

“I love you, Muriel.” She whispers.

Muriel yawns, “... I love you too, Rhemi…” Thinking he's drifting off to sleep, she starts to close her eyes as well and feel herself falling asleep. “.... Was he really okay with us not moving?” He finally whispers.

Rhemi's heart drops, but she just stays there silent and still, pretending to be asleep.

The hermit lets out a frustrated sigh, before placing a feather light kiss on her forehead. “.... Please just don’t forget I want you to talk to me.”

….. I know…. She thinks to herself. I want to tell you. But… I’m scared that might make things worse. I’m sorry, Muri. I don’t want to lie to you… But I have to fix this by myself before you know the truth.

Finally, all of them start to drift to sleep, Muriel finds himself in the realm of dreams, his father waiting for him yet again, waiting to show him what he was capable of in the realm of dreams.

All the while Rhemi stays put, in a dreamless state, but finds herself waking up almost every hour from a twinging pain in her temples. She could swear she was hearing distant voices.

———The next morning———

A very groggy Rhemi finally wakes up from the sun peering into the window. Sitting up, in the bed, she realized that Muriel and Inanna were already up and started the day. Glancing over to the table, some fresh flowers and herbs were waiting for her and a note that read, "Get some rest." She couldn’t help but smile despite feeling so terrible. The headaches are getting worse and worse lately. Even when she wakes up, it's like a hammer is knocking on the side of her temples. Luckily, it would dissipate as the day went on, but it was such a nuisance to start off the day like this. At least she didn’t have any dreams last night…

Slowly, she gets up and walks over to the washing washing bowl, trying to get more energized for the day. This was one of her installations when she moved into the hut. It was a little table (taller than most for her sweet Muriel) with a washing bowl, a pitcher and a mirror from the shop. It must have been her mother’s. It was the one thing that didn’t necessarily match the other decor from the shop. Pouring a liberal amount of freshwater, she starts washing her face. The cool water felt nice on her temples. As she glances back up to the mirror to make herself look more alive, she notices someone behind her.

Summoning her magic quickly into her hands, she conjures a defensive spell as she whips around silently. But as soon as she turns around, no one is there. The door is locked, and she can still hear Muriel cutting wood. “.... Must have been my imagination.”

Turning back to the mirror yet again to look at her reflection. But instead of her own face, she sees her eyes bloodshot red and short hair, her expression bleak and sad.

“.... Headache again?” A voice mumbles to her sadistically from the reflection.

“AHHHHH!!!” Shocked, Rhemi yelps a terrified scream, punching the mirror out of instinct. The vision and the pieces of glass shatter into pieces. Immediately, she regretted her reaction. She tucks her hand into her chest in pain, her knuckles bloody, and the mirror is broken. Looking at the shards on the ground, all she can see is her own reflection in the small fragments. What… what the fuck was that?

“RHEMI?!” Muriel cries out from behind the hut.

“.... Shit….” Quickly Rhemi jumps up and carefully takes the mirror off the wall and places it on the floor to make it look like it just fell down. The last thing she wanted was to think that she was losing her mind. Besides, people see things all the time, it doesn’t mean you're crazy… right??

“RHEMI !” Muriel shouts as he bursts in the hut, his large ax still in hand. As soon as he sees the blood, his eyes get even wider and swirling with fear. “Y-... You’re bleeding!”

“Ahhh!” She shouts, waving her hand to keep him away. “Don’t let Nana in here! T-There's glass everywhere!”

Examining the damage, Muriel shakes his head bewildered. “Rem... What happened?”

“... Ohhmygosh!! HaHa! So dumb!... Completely my fault! I was trying to straighten the stupid mirror and I apparently…. It fell off the nail! I… I didn’t catch it in time and it broke, and I screamed.”

He starts to slightly relax, but still looks pretty anxious. “.... You okay?”

“Yeah! I just cut myself a little on the glass is all! Just a little scratch, nothing I can’t fix~!”

Taking a single step inside he sets the ax down outside and reaches his hand for her. “.... Let me at least help—”

“It’s fine, Love!” She says as she conjures her magic to clean the pieces up and place them back into the mirror. “See? No problem!”

Begrudgingly he huffs, and starts to step out of the doorway before pausing. “.... Get dressed. I’ll make breakfast. You just …. sit…. alright?.... Don’t go near anything breakable…. Or sharp.” He grumpily instructs.

She snickers and nods her head. “Okay.”

As soon as the door shuts, her smile falls and she stares at her knuckle so she could heal it. Luckily, it wasn’t very deep, however it was a little long. She sits down at the table, taking a little piece of herb and summoning her magic, she starts mending her skin together. After it was all healed up a very small scar was left. It should dissipate after a while. But she just stares at it for a moment.

“Get it together, Rhemi.” She mumbles to herself as she stands to her feet to get dressed.

There's too much going on today for this bullshit. She had a plan for her father to get on board with her getting married.

--------

After a delicious breakfast, and a few sweet kisses, Muriel and Rhemi part for the day. Making her way to the shop, she concocks the perfect plan.

As expected, the shop was open and ready for business, usually Asra at the counter with a book or a potion, but today the white haired gender bastard was nowhere in sight, and the shop appeared empty.

“Hello??” She calls out. “Asra?? Faust?? You home?”

“Oh! Morning, Rhemi.” He greets from the back next to the stairs.

Realizing his location she strolls to where he was sitting on the ground and she takes off her bag. “.... Good morning. What the heck are you doing back there, ya weirdo?”

“Refusing to accept defeat.” He chuckles, wiping a little bit of sweat on his forehead. In front of him was a large chest oozing with magic and locked up tight. It read, ‘Fragile: Please handle with care’ in a familiar handwriting. In his right hand was the bundle of rusty old keys.

Curious, Rhemi tilts her head and folds her arms. “What is this?”

“Found this…” He grunts as he attempts to force another key into the lock. “... Chest… under the stairs the other day…. And…. I think it belonged to Athena…. *grunt* but no matter what I doooo…” With a heavy sigh, he gives up on that key, pulls it out of the lock and nearly collapses on his elbows. “... The damn thing won’t open. I have tried opening it with magic, I have tried every key in the shop--twice now--Hell! I even tried using a crowbar! But... nothing.”

“Huh….” She mutters. Rhemi kneels down next to her friend and the chest. Both of them stared at it for a moment. “... Well… Obviously it’s got a powerful spell on it. Athena didn’t want anyone in it.”

“Yeah… Even in death, that woman had out magic us.” The two of them giggle together on the floor. Asra draps his arms over his knees and he smiles, his mind wondering into nostalgically territory. “... I miss her.” He mumbles under his breath.

“.... I do too.” The apprentice says with a heavy heart, resting her head on his shoulder. “I…. I wish she could be here… See how much we both grew up…”

"Me too..."

The two stay there for a moment, taking it all in. The sound of the bedroom door closing at the top of the stairs brings them back to reality and Julian’s long legs descend the stairs.

“Oh! Morning, Rhemi-dear!” He says with a chipper tone.

She rolls her eyes at that name, but at this point, she just learned to accept it. “Well good morning to you too…. Someone slept in late…It’s nearly ten o’clock.” She teases.

“HA. Well…. Something kept me up all night..” The doctor glances at Asra with pink staining his cheeks and a cute smirk.

Asra smiles wide, proudly he glances back over to his friend, cheekily placing his finger to his chest. “Tee-hee…. I’m ‘something’.”

Jokingly disgusted, she pushes Asra making him nearly fall over. “EWWW! Grosssssss! You two are terrible!” She laughs.

“Oh… like you and Muriel aren’t disgusting too??”

“I am not responding to that!” She loudly announces as she walks up the stairs, her face turning slightly pink herself. “I’m making some tea, don’t leave just yet Ilya!”

“Ohhhh, well ahhh.. alrighty then! If I… ahh….. If I must.” Julian happily replies as he helps Asra back to his feet. Promptly the white-haired magician presses his lips on his collar bone.

While the teapot starts to heat up, Rhemi realizes that she really didn’t have time to go to the palace or have someone deliver a message for her father. Staring at the spigot and it gives her an idea and is a good reason to flex her magical muscles. Grabbing a large bowl, she fills it with water and closes her eyes. Using all her concentration, she reaches out, searching for her father’s magic. Finally, she feels that strange metallic aura and she opens she can see her reflection being replaced with her father’s.

“Père!” She calls out.

Confused, Martin looks away towards what she could only assume was the door. “..... Miela?” He mutters.

“Good morning, Père~” She sweetly giggles. Something about surprising another magician always made her a little giddy.

Her father turns his head once again, his eyes scanning the room. “I… I hear you Pigeon, but…. Where are you??”

“Down here!” She instructs. “In the water!”

Turning desperately left and right, he shakes his head. “The… water?” Finally he locates her and he stares in astonishment. “Ahhhhh…?”

Beatrix’s hissing and Bartholomew’s voice could be heard in the background. “.... Monsieur, vous allez bien?”

“Oh… yes. Um…. Why don’t you be a good lad and step outside, Bartholmew.”

“....Ahhh…. Oui, Monsieur.” His butler replies soundly utterly confused. "I will leave you alone with your...ah.... tea... then."

Calmly, Martin looks into his tea cup. “... Rhemielia, my child. What are you doing in my tea?”

“Kinda neat isn’t it? Asra taught me this one a while back.”

With a straight face, he slowly blinks, seemingly unimpressed. “.... Hmmmm…. Very… Charming, I suppose… I won’t recommend it in Charlès though. This is how you’d get a bad reputation for being a witch.”

“Oh….” The excitement and glee once again stomped out. But… I kinda am a witch. Awkwardly, she clears her throat, brushing off his words. “Well, ah….anyways, I contacted you this way to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I have to do something today next to the palace. Are you busy this afternoon around three o’clock?”

“Hmm… No… I don’t believe I am.” He says while pondering hard and tapping the tea cup.

“Well, how about you meet me there. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

A genuine soft smile takes over the Archimagister’s lips and he takes a seat on a chair. “... I always enjoy being with you, my little pigeon.”

Rhemi grins happily when he says that. He had a habit of making her feel bad sometimes, but he also could make her feel glad that he’s in her life again. Her heart flutters with excitement. She quickly gives him the address, before she could make a little small talk, the tea kettle starts to whistle and the two say their goodbyes for now.

The day went on like it did every Monday. The shop was pretty busy in the late morning and the afternoon. Mostly it was regulars getting their positions, and other things they needed before the rest of the week went on. But for Rhemi the day just dragged on. Today was the last fitting of her wedding dress. Surely, he wouldn’t be so set on her going to Charlès if he saw her in it. The dress was beautiful a-line with a button-up bodice in the back, with illusion sleeves covered in beautiful lace and organza material.

After what felt like an eternity, the time came for her fitting. Before she leaves, she pops her head into the reading room where Asra was looking at his cards by himself. It’s odd, it felt like she could hear the King of Pentacles whispering to him.

As she went for the door, she ran her fingers over the chest feeling Athena’s magic somehow felt so comforting to her. She always had a strong aura. A strange clunk comes from behind her. She glances back to inspect what had made the noise, but the chiming of the clock deters her. Whatever it is, it can wait.

_______________________________

As she reaches the tailor’s shop, she notices her father making his way down the street. His nose was buried into the piece of paper with the address on. Again, no Beatrix. It’s old how empty his shoulders looked without her.

“Père!” Rhemi calls out, waving to him.

Ungluing his eyes from his paper as she calls his name, he grins and waves back.

“How are you today?” His daughter asks sweetly.

“Very good thank you.” He replies looking at his pocket watch. As soon as he picks up his head, he reads the sign, Seamless: Pierre’s Clothing. “Oh…. You do realize I have a tailor already, correct?”

She can't help but chuckle at his unamusement as she opens the door. “I know that. This one is mine... Well, actually it's Nadia's, I'm just borrowing him.”

Martin’s eyes narrow as he enters the shop. The windows are full of outlandish and extravagant dresses and suits, but in the Vesuvian style. The old magician just sneers in revolt. “Ohhh?... Pardon me, my sweet, but I am confused...”

“I’m about to try my wedding dress on.” Martin’s body stiffens like a board and he flutters his eyes in disbelief. Rhemi could feel her cheeks heating up and feeling pressure on her chest. “And….. I uh… I wanted you to be here for my final fitting… Get you more involved… I want you to be apart of my life and--”

“—Sorry." He interrupts placing both of his hands on his cane, sticking his nose up in revolt. "Please don't tell me you were serious when you said you are going to marry that seven foot tall brute—?”

“—Muriel, Père…” Rhemi quickly interjects in disbelief. She could feel her left eyelid twitch from the stress. She just couldn’t believe him. This shit again?? Right here?? RIGHT NOW? Calmly, she folds her hands together trying to keep her patients. “.... My fiance's name is Muriel. It means 'bright' in Rune…. And yes. I am marrying him. He’s kind and genuine and trustworthy and gentle and makes me feel safe and…. And I love him.... He's my soul mate.”

Martin’s icy glare somehow gets colder and she shakes his head and scoffs. “... Hmmmm… love... What good has it ever done...”

“... What do you mean by that?... You said you fell in love with Mum.”

His nostrils flare in frustration. “.... Rhemielia. My child. All I’m trying to say is that you barely know this man. How long have you met him? A year or so ago?”

“Well…. yes… but how long did you know Mum before you married her?”

As soon as he opens his mouth wider about to argue back, Pierre walks in with a cheerful smile. “Ah! Rhemi! So good to see you!! Are you ready to see your lovely gown?”

Martin pats Rhemi’s head and she cringes to herself yet again. “We’ll speak of this later—no need to make a scene, do we now?” He says leaning into her ear and whispering. “In the meantime, go ahead. Go on and play dress up like you used to when you were a child.”

Her eyelid twitches even more as she strains to keep a fake smile on her lips. “I not playing dress—”

“Rhemi!!!!” Suddenly Agrippa and Portia burst through the door with happy smiles, excited for the final fitting. As soon as they both notice Sir Martin, their smiles dwindle slightly, but they still keep their cheery demeanor for the occasion.

For once, Rhemi was happy to change the subject, pretending that her father didn’t say what he did. “Ippa! Pasha!”

“I am sooooo excited!!!”

“Me too! Pierre is ready and— Wait… Where’s Julian?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Rem. He had an emergency at the clinic…” Portia says finally letting her smile fall.

“That kid from the orphanage….. What's his naaaammmme—?”

“Zachary?”

Agrippa snaps their fingers agreeing with their partner. “Yeah! He broke his arm today.”

“Holy crap!! Not Zack! Is he okay??”

“Oh yeah! He’s getting loads of attention and is making jokes as we speak! Those kids are resilient, he’ll be just fine!”

“As long as he stops climbing tall shit that is.”

“….Well that stinks that Julian can’t be here, but he can help that!... I’m happy you both could make it though!”

Suddenly, Sir Martin clears his throat to interrupt their conversation looking at his pocket watch and tapping it. “Excuse me ladies and….. Sir???”

Agrippa blankly stares at him with a small growing smile. “.... Which one do you think it is?”

Martin stares back trying not look so confused as he really was. But instead of answering, he just clears his throat once more, tucking his pocket watch back into his vest and looking the other way. “... Not all of us have all day to dawdle.”

Taking the hint, the four of them follow Pierre to the back and make their way to the back. Excited, Portia and Rhemi head to the back changing room. Pierre gives them the gown in order for the maid of honor to know how to help with the dress the day of the wedding (bustles and all).

It fits like a glove. Ecstatic and hopelessly excited, Rhemi nearly skips out of the back to show off her beloved dress.

Portia and Agrippa both hold back their tears as she twirls around happily. “Oh, little bean!!” Agrippa mutters sniffling hard.

Rhemi spins around, clapping her face and her eyes start to water up as well and she smiles stupidly. “Ohhhhhh, you two stop!!! You both said you wouldn’t cry!”

“I know, I know! But you are just so….. So—” Portia says, whipping a tear away.

“—Tch. Please…. don’t lie to her.” Martin grumbles his left hand pitching the bridge of his nose.

Portia and Agrippa stare at the Archmagister in utter shock. “Umm... Excuse me?” Portia asks with her brow furrowed. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, that dress is all wrong, of course.” He huffs irritatedly, uncrossing his legs and standing to his feet.

Rhemi’s heart starts to sink into her chest. “What’s…. what’s wrong with it?” She asks, looking down and lifting up some of the skirt with her hands, unable to see the defects.

“That dress makes you look like a dirty commoner, Pigeon…. It looks more like a used napkin than a gown, don't you think? And what a dreadful color.”

“But… But I…. I am a commoner. A-and… I don’t like whi-…..” The words die in her throat as her attention diverts to the back of the room.

Somehow a person who came out of nowhere is standing directly behind her father in the back—But it isn’t a customer…. Her sick crimson eyes staring at her with a desperate looking expression. Why is she here?? Am… Am I going insane? As soon as Rhemi closes her eyes again, she vanishes, but it still frightens her.

“...Wh-white..” She finally finishes muttering, still staring in the back where the figure once stood.

It was…. Herself. The ghost of her former self that keeps popping up in her dreams. The same person in her reflection the other day. Her sick bloodshot eyes, yellow tainted skin and the stench of cremated ashes. Clearly, no one else can see her, or smell the terrible scent of death.

Quickly, she’s snapped back to reality as soon as her fathers speaks again and she looks back down at her gown. “....Please…” He scoffs, pitching the bridge of his nose. “...It looks like a rag—and for gods’ sake—Why is it blush?? Virgins are supposed to wear white—“

“——Okaaaaaay! Rhemi let's get you out of your beautiful dress so the poor tailor can finish the hem, okay?” Portia quickly and skillfully interrupts, smacking her hands together with a large fake grin. She nearly pushes Rhemi to the back room to change out of it.

Portia grumbles under head breath, helping her get back into the changing room. “What the fuck is that guy’s—” Words fail her as soon as she notices her friend’s tears in her eyes and the sorrow filled look in her face. “Oh… no, Rem!” Hastily, she hands her a tissue before her makeup runs.

“It just…. So much is happening….. And…. He- ...He thinks it ….lo- looks bad….” Rhemi sniffles, trying to keep the tears from falling, her nose and lips starting to crinkle back. “Is-is it really that bad??”

Portia is quick to embrace her upset friend and hug her tightly. “No, no, no…. He’s wrong, Rem. You look gorgeous! He doesn’t know the hell he’s talking about! I mean, the guy wears an ugly ass cape for god sakes! If anything he’s a walking fashion nightmare! All he’s missing is the stupid puffy pants and a fourteen foot stick up is ass!” Slowly, she pulls away and wipes the tears from her friend's eyes comfortingly. “Please don’t cry, Rhemi. You really do look amazing. Agrippa, Pierre, Nadia, and I would have told you if it didn’t!... Please, don’t let this jerk make you think otherwise.”

“I don’t think he was trying to be a jerk… he was just telling me how he felt… I mean… I asked him what he thought after all…. and….. h-his opinion is v-valid.”

Portia flutters her eyes and shakes her head baffled. Rhemi is usually a pretty good judge of character, yet anytime anyone says anything bad about the Archmagister, she denies it, or makes excuses. “Rhemi….. Why do you keep defending this guy?! All he’s done is been rude and disregards everyone’s feelings.”

Rhemi stifles and quickly wipes her nose with a handkerchief, refusing to look Portia in the eye. “.... H-... He’s my father.”

“Yeah! One that you just mee—” Portia suddenly stops herself, pressing her lips tightly together and slightly shakes her head. Perhaps now isn’t the time. Rhemi isn’t seeing this man for what he is. Thoughtfully she starts to speak again. “...Look… all I’m saying is that no matter who this person is to you, no one should make you cry and make you feel like shit in your wedding dress.”

Rhemi fiddles with her fingers, not very convinced. “B… But what if he’s right?”

The Devorak sister takes a large breath, pushing down the urge to go back and knock the wind out of that plum haired asshole. But as calmly as she could she takes both of her friend’s hands and asks, “Rem. Sweetie. Do you love this dress?”

Sheepishly her friend replies, “... Y-... yes….”

“Does it make you feel all happy and warm inside when you put it on?”

“Uh- huh….”

“Do you feel amazing when you’re in it??”

“Y-... yeah…I do....”

“Then forget what he said! It makes you feel amazing… You cried your beautiful eyes out when you first got into it because you said you felt so amazing. You loved it! You still love it! This is your dress. Please don’t let that man take that away from you.”

Silence takes over the room as Rhemi ponders her friend’s words for a moment and she sniffles. The most concerning thing was seeing her sick past self staring at her from across the room. She’s never seen her outside of the dream realm till now… Perhaps it was her that Rhemi heard the other day in the palace and who she saw in the mirror this morning. Who else could it be??

Portia sighs and loops her arm through Rhemi’s. “Come on. Let’s get ya out so Pierre can finish up, ok?” Rhemi follows her, but doesn’t pick up her eyes, still totally lost in thoughts. In a last attempt, Portia leans her head on her shoulder. “... You really look amazing, Rem.”

Silently Rhemi nods with a fake half grin, finally picking up her gaze to meet her friend. “Thanks, Portia… I’m really glad you are here.” She says placing her head on top of her’s.

“...Haha.. You’re lucky my brother wasn’t here—”

“—Oh gods yeah! He probably would have decked him in the face.”

“Hell! You’re lucky I didn’t!”

“Thank you, Pasha.” Rhemi mutters as stops in her tracks so she could embrace her friend.

“What are maids of honor for?” Portia whispers back, kindly embracing her back.

“Please don’t tell Muri about this….”

“.... I… I promise.”

Eventually, the two get the dress off without disturbing any of the pins on the bottom. The apprentice makes sure her eyes aren’t red in the dressing room before she walks out to meet her father again. The tension in the room was so tangible, so intoxicating.

Portia and Agrippa watched from the tailor door as Rhemi and her father walked towards the palace.

The silence was absolutely dreadful on the way to the palace. Luckily, it was within a short distance and this night would be over with. Rhemi never felt so conflicted before. Everything was so overwhelming lately. All she wanted was for her father to be happy for her. But everything she did seemed to blow up in her face.

As they reach the palace, her father finally realizes that she wasn’t walking towards the shop. “Well…. This is you.” She announces, rather happy to be done with him for the day.

“Oh…” He says a bit bewildered. “.... But I thought I was walking you home.”

“No no no. The palace is right around the corner from Pierre’s. It doesn’t make any sense going all the way across town.”

“Please. I don’t mind.”

“No, Père. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay??” Turning away from him never felt better. She hated to admit it, but he was just exhausting to be around. And after today, she had just enough of it all. “Good night.” She says just turning her so he could hear her.

With a knowing sigh, he places his cane hard into the cobblestone with a clank. “...Is it what I said about the dress.. Isn’t it?” She stops in her tracks but doesn’t look behind her… Maybe he’s going to apologize? “... Rhemielia, dear. Believe me when I say that you are making a huge mistake.” Her fists clenched so hard it almost hurts, her hopes crushed once again. Nope. Of course he wasn’t going to apologize. “... I am telling you that there are better men in Charlès that would put you into the finest of wedding gow—”

“—Have a nice night, Père…” Rhemi mutters trying to hold back the tears. “I’ll... I’ll see you later.”

As Rhemi makes her way down the street and disappears into the crowd. Martin can’t help but remember that night when he lost her. All he could do was just sit there and watch as she was swept away by that dreadful witch. Just like his other dream with the young woman whose neck was snapped. He felt so powerless of movement in these moments.

As he stood there, for one of the first times in years, Martin felt a pull on his chest. A feeling like he might have done something wrong tonight. He hadn’t felt like this since… Well… Since Rhemi’s birthday nearly fifteen years ago now.

He never meant to hurt her. She just… needed to learn a lesson…

“She’ll be fine.” He mutters to himself, shaking off this feeling of regret. “... One day she’ll thank me.”

On the way home, Rhemi made sure she got rid of all her tears before she came back home with Muriel for the night. It's a good thing people usually leave you alone when you're crying. If Muriel notices, she’ll just say that they were good tears from the fitting. All happy tears. Nothing bad happened. It’s all good!… But he knows they’re not.

————Rowdy Raven————

SKKKKIIIIIRRRRT!!!!

“—THAT BASTARD SAID WHAT ABOUT HER DRESS??” Julian shouts standing up from the table in dismay.

The tavern is busy like it usually is. Agrippa, Portia, Julian, and Asra decided to have a drink after today. It was only Monday, but it felt like everyday was an eternity since Sir Martin came into port. Portia had just finished telling her brother and his partner about what had happened at the tailors, and of course they were enraged.

Asra just yanks him back down to his chair. “Shhhh!! Ilya! Would you please calm down! Believe me, I’m just as pissed as you are!”

“If I only had my cricket bat….” Agrippa says, fantasizing while staring at the wall, sipping on their ale. “Fucking asshole…” They say as Portia holds their hand with a sweet reassuring smile.

“Did he really make her cry??” Asra asks soberly.

Portia nods sadly. “It was absolutely heartbreaking. I’ve never seen her look so frustrated and hurt before! But don’t tell Muriel! I promised her I wouldn’t.”

“Why did you tell us then?”

“She only said, Muriel.” She shrugs. “...It’ll just make the poor guy more stressed out anyways. He’s under a lot of pressure as well. This is his wedding too.”

Asra's stomach tied in knots at the thought of his best friend crying. “What the hell is this guy’s problem???”

“You should have heard what he said before she tried on the dress.” Agrippa mumbles before taking a large swing of their ale again.

“What did he say??” Julian and Asra ask at the same time, leaning closer into the table.

“It was something along the lines that he ‘couldn’t believe that she was serious about marrying that ‘seven foot tall brute’... I heard them talking before we opened the door.”

Asra's nose crinkles in and his top half of his lip curls into a snarl. “And what did she say??”

“Oh! She was quick to defend him, and she almost looked angry. But at the same time…. afraid? I dunno—but it's like her father doesn’t realize that Rhemi is her own person now…. She’s not that child that was taken from him years ago.”

“.... Do you think he still sees her as a little kid?”

Portia shrugs, staring at a stain on the wooden table. “.... Maybe?... I feel like he sees her more of something that was his property… Not really another person with feelings.”

Julian slams his fists on the table, “THAT’S. IT!” making everything rattle and clank, nearly spilling a few drinks. He snaches his goblet, jumping to a stand and chugging down the last of his Salty bitters, then throws his glass down to the ground, smashing it into a hundred pieces. “—IMMA KILL ‘EM!”

“Ilya! Sit your drunk ass down and shut up!! You’re not killing anyone!” Portia scolds. “WE four, collectively…. however might just—”

“Pasha!” Asra laughs, tugging his drunken partner back down to his chair again. “That’s a bit extreme don’t you think?? How about we just talk to Rhemi about it.”

“That man is completely toxic.” Julian mumbles, taking Asra’s drink from his hands. “... *Hiccup*....Have you…. Have you noticed that Rhemi isn’t as bright as she normally is?” Julian mutters, sipping the last bit of Asra’s salty bitters since he threw down his own cup.

“.... I have…. and something about all of this bothers me.” Asra says leaning into the table with his arms folded. “....I feel like her father is killing her spirit…. I wonder if he’s always been like this….. And if that's true… it makes me wonder…” he pauses for a movement then shakes his head. “N… Nevermind.”

“What?” Agrippa, Portia, and Julian ask in unison.

“.... *Sigh*.... I might be going too far if I say this.”

“Well now you have to tell us.” Agrippa says with a straight face about to knock back the last bit of ale.

“.... I don’t know…… Sometimes I wonder if she and her mother were really….. ‘Kidnapped’.”

The table suddenly became so eerily quiet, as if they all were thinking the same thing.

✨To be continued…

Sorry for the long wait my trash pandas. But I really needed this break from writing. And I'm really glad I took it. I am so happy with myself right now. I know its still not by best work, but I at least don't hate it. This chapter was supposed a bit longer, but I decided not to shoot myself in the foot this time and just split it.

Thank you for the babies who have been support and encouraging to me when I was at a really low point. I was really sad that last chapter didn't do as well as I was hoped. But I realized that a lot of people are still reading and I need to be humble and be grateful for what I have. Anyways--chapter 7, The King of Pentacles~ should be up soonish. That may be another shorter chapter, but it gonna be a big angsty one. *wink wink*. As always, thanks for reading my hot garbage! <3

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iamslowlyloosingmysanity · 3 years

Text

Everyone‘s saying that if Cas was brought back, that it would be an immediate ‘“I love you, Cas, of course I do’” (did you see what I did there?) But I think- I know that it would be slower, more hesitant than that.

Dean is hella repressed, just because Cas was like ‘I love you, bitch.’ and then peaced out doesn‘t suddenly make Dean want to throw himself at the man, he still has unresolved trauma (in theory at least, if he actually has hetero-negative trauma)!

I feel like once Cas comes back, Dean would be scared and nervous, worrying about what his father would do to him if he allowed himself to feel how he really feels about his best friend.

Sam notices Dean’s turmoil and reminds Dean that “‘Dad is dead, he’s not coming back.’” And Dean knows, but he just can’t let himself be free.

And everyday, Cas seems to drift farther and farther, becoming more distant and jumpy, as if the only thing grounding him disappeared.

Until one night, Dean woke up, his face was wet with tears. Why does his brain always taunt him with the fact that he let Cas die?

He didn‘t realize the angel was there until he sat up and saw Cas sitting at the edge of his bed.

”Cas, what the hell?” Dean hissed.

Cas lifted up his head and looked back at him, a solemn look seemed to be engraved in his face.

”You were having a nightmare.” he whispered gently.

Dean sighed and pushed the blankets off of him. ”Well, I still had the nightmare, so I don’t think you did anything, buddy.”

Dean’s heart sunk when he saw Cas wince at the last word.

”I didn’t know if you felt comfortable with me touching you anymore, so I just figured I‘d wait until you woke up to make sure you were okay.” Cas stood up and backed up a little ways from Dean.

Dean shook his head and patted the foot of the bed, when Cas gave him a weird look, he patted it more aggressively until he got the memo.

Cas moved towards the bed carefully, as if afraid he was going to scare him off.

He sat down and adjusted his trench coat. Dean smiled slightly, wondering why Cas could just always wear that.

After a few minutes of a suffocating silence, Dean spoke u. “Cas, I- it doesn’t change anything, you know that, right? You’re still going to be my friend, that’s not changing.”

Cas inspected his palm, it was weird, Cas hardly looked him in the eye anymore.

He nodded and put on a light face, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw set, he moved closer and pursued his lips. “Cas, please.”

”Please what, Dean?” Cas snapped, when Dean’s eyes widened, Cas’ voice went quiet and he looked away. “I thought I was going to stay dead. But now I’m alive, now I have to face the consequences of my actions. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, I never expected you to.”

”Cas, it’s not that I don’t-“ Dean sighed and carded a hand through his hair, “It’s- I like you, Cas, I really do,“ he whispered, looking away. “Something happened- something broke inside of me after Lisa, I don’t know what, but it happened and I don’t think I can fix it.”

When Dean looked back at Cas, he was not expecting to see him curled into a ball, looking down at the floor with tears in his eyes.

”I know what you’re talking about, Dean, when I’m even remotely close to you, I can feel it. You don’t have to do anything, if you’re not wanting to ever be in a relationship again, that’s okay, just don’t force yourself into one and expect it to all be okay.” Cas smiled sadly.

Dean‘s brow knotted and he reached hesitantly towards Cas’ hand, Cas instinctively opened up his hand to lace fingers with Dean’s.

Dean gave him a reassuring squeeze and leaned his forehead on Cas’ shoulder. “Can you give me some time, Cas?”

Dean felt all the tension leave Cas’ body as he leaned his head on top of Dean’s, “I’m willing to wait until the world goes dark.”

#destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fluffy

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kittycatlukey · 3 years

Text

jess black x female reader

part 1 of 1

Y/N = your name

warning: cursing, cult talk, violence, sexual situations, nudity, etc.

***

I was in bed in an abandoned random cabin located in the Whitetail Mountains as the Master Huntress was on my left next to me, unclothed and under the bedsheets. Our previous acts made me feel so alive, but so guilty at the same time. I just fucked the enemy... It wasn't our first time and it obviously won't be the last. Various emotions overcame me while I got lost in my thoughts. Luckily, Jess was still asleep— her soft snores the only thing that could be heard in the cabin... The morning sun shone through the dusty window, lighting up the bedroom a little bit.

Glancing at the time, I realized it was now 6:31am. Damn, have I really been up all night long? And oh fuck, I'm late for Jacob's roll call! He's gonna kill me! I hurriedly stood up, threw my hair up in a quick messy bun, and put on my scattered clothes from last night that were on the floor. As I pulled my last article of clothing on, I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my 1911, ready to head on out.

"Shit, this is the second time you're gonna be late for roll call." Jess groggily murmured— she was still half asleep before I walked over to her and gave her forehead a quick peck. "Jacob's definitely gonna murder you this time."

I sighed, "I know. The first time was a warning, this one won't be... If I'm alive, we can meet up at our usual spot at 5:30 before lights out, alright?"

"Duh, we do it everyday." Jess sat up, the bedsheet falling as her breasts came into view. "You better go. The later you are, the worse off you'll be. And you need to figure out another excuse— Jacob's not gonna believe what you said last time."

I looked away to be respectful even though I already know what she looks like. "I'm just gonna say that— I dunno— I had to piss and I couldn't hold it. That sound believable?"

"No, Jacob's not a fuckin' idiot... Just say you ran into some Whitetail Militia and you had to kill 'em." Jess replied before she yawned, pulling the bedsheet back over her.

I nodded, liking it. "Hopefully he believes it. Gotta go. Love you," The last two words slipped out of my mouth before I could even realize. My jaw dropped open and I quickly turned around and left, leaving Jess stunned... Why am I so goddamn stupid?

—Twenty Minutes Later—

I tried to sneak in line when Jacob was still in the middle of doing roll call, but of course, Jacob fucking seen me.

"Soldier, let's talk in private." Jacob's rough and authoritative voice echoed loudly in the Veteran's Center.

I internally groaned, but forced myself not to show any emotion. "Yes sir." I spoke monotonously as I followed him to his private office.

His shoulders were broad and muscular— basically his whole body was— despite the signature army jacket he had on. Jacob's arms swung with each step he took before we neared his office. He unlocked the office with his key and opened it, holding the door for me and allowing me to enter first. Jacob's gaze on me made me feel small as I held my head high and entered his office. I've only been in here a few times before and it's so fucking nerve-wracking. But this time... This is the first time I've gotten "in trouble" with Jacob— and you don't ever want to do that. I sat in the chair in front of his desk before he slammed the door behind him. I had to refrain myself from flinching at the sound. All the while, my heart was racing, wondering if Jacob was going to kill me or not...

Jacob's footsteps drew closer, but stopped when he made it to my chair; then, he leaned against his desk, glowering down at me dangerously. "So... Y/N, why were you late?" His blue eyes shining beautifully under the light, but I knew how malicious those eyes were.

"I ran into some Whitetail Militia, sir. I promise not to be late again, sir." I immediately replied, looking up at him. Deep down inside I was freaking the fuck out, but on the outside I was calm and collected.

Jacob was silent for a few moments, eyeing me suspiciously. "Was it Eli?" He interrogated, obviously wishing it was the leader of the Whitetails.

"Sadly no, sir." I responded, faking my sadness. I was hoping I was a good enough actor for him to leave me the fuck alone. But this son of a bitch was smart— too smart. And unfortunately, my acting skills aren't that great; hopefully, he would believe my lies. "Am I excused to my duty to check the bodies now, sir?"

The soldier looked as if he didn't completely believe me... At this point, I was sweating bullets and my hands were shaky, causing me to grip the arms of my chair tighter. I was on the edge of my seat right now, awaiting his answer.

"For some odd reason, Y/N, I don't believe you. It's just... a feeling I've got... You know how I told you about Miller? Well, on the eighth day, I could tell we're as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance came clarity. You see, I wasn't just looking at Miller. I was looking at an opportunity. It wasn't something I wanted.. it was something that I had to do. It was, it was my test. Now you see, Miller's sacrifice wasn't about me walking out of that desert. It was about bringing me here. The weak have their purpose. You'll understand that soon enough." Jacob had his hand on his hunting knife when there was a knock at the door. He growled, taking his eyes off of me and glaring at the closed door. "Come in."

A couple seconds went by and there was another knock on the door, more eager this time.

"I said come in. Are you goddamn deaf?" Jacob scowled as he swiftly made his way to the door.

I turned around to see him open the door and my jaw dropped at who was standing in front of Jacob. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Jess stabbed Jacob in the throat with her arrow and quickly pulled it out, him instantly falling on his knees. She stabbed him again in his jugular— and did it over and over and over— repeatedly puncturing his throat until he fell on the ground.

"How the hell did you get past the guards?" I whispered, wide-eyed as I got up and hugged her tight; I was still in shock and was so confused and happy at the same time. Many different emotions coursed through me.

"Hell will freeze over before I'm lettin' you die on my watch."

***

hope you guys enjoyed reading my jess black x female reader!❤️❤️

#far cry 5 #jess black #jacob seed #fc5 #fc5 fandom #seed family #seedlings #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #far cry fanfiction

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

Member: lee jaehyun aka hyunjae from tbz cause i feel like there are too many jaehyuns around now ;_; my heart can’t take too many perfect men of the same name

Genre: COLLEGE... CRUSH? idk this is probably gonna be my most crack piece (you can already tell by the track)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I wrote this at like 1.30am so please bear with me lol my inspiration always come in the middle of the night because it’s so quiet and conducive

this will be a one shot cause i’ve got no fucking clue how to make it into a series/short novel without an actual conflict/angst/drama involved :”) if you’re a writer and you see this and you want to make a 2nd part or something, BE MY GUEST

lee hyun jae.

who was he to me?

oh, i don’t know.

just the prettiest but handsomest man alive. if that’s even a word.

he’s always surrounded by like, eleven other boys who are also good-looking and talented in some way or another.

god must’ve invested his entire life into crafting these fine, fine specimens of men to be placed on earth.

maybe there was a mix up somewhere and they were supposed to be angels or demi-gods and god just fucked up.

but i’ve got no complaints.

i’m satisfied that i get to feast my eyes on such a gorgeous, rare, one-of-a-kind version of a person i’m sure exists nowhere else in the world.

he’s known for being one of the most caring ones of the group. he’d make his friends laugh but watch out for them at the same time. he’s so easygoing, i wonder if he’d smile at me if i tripped him over or something.

you might think i’m exaggerating.

well,

i’m not.

so who am i to him?

sadly, nobody.

harsh truth.

there was absolutely nothing wrong with the man. there was a lack of flaw, and that was literally the only flaw he had. if it could even be considered as a flaw. i could spend my seconds, minutes, hours, days, just staring at him. it was so unfair that there is NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM.

sometimes it pisses me off.

it kind of pisses me off that he doesn’t have a girlfriend despite half the school simping over him.

i mean, who wouldn’t? just look at him.

there have been rumors flying about that he was gay or something.

doesn’t matter if he is gay though.

it simply hurts to know he’s not dating anybody.

it’ll be such a waste if such a man ends up living a life alone. a waste indeed.

so what was it that was stopping me from putting that destiny of his to a screeching stop?

well, there was just one problem.

“hELLO, earth to y/n?” the sudden waving in your face with the heaviest textbook in your curriculum snaps you back into reality.

“which one of the twelve are you thinking up some magical fantasy over now?” your best friend frowns at you, the vein on her arm popping from the weight of the fat textbook.

“ah-- it doesn’t matter who i’m daydreaming about, let me have my moment, would you?” you lean back in your seat, disgruntled at her telling you what not to do with your own imagination. sometimes it was difficult to look at her without seeing all the little hints of lee hyunjae in her.

they had the same nose, but that was it. honestly, it was a miracle you just happened to make friends with one of the prettiest girls in school, and good for you, she ended up becoming your friend and stayed in that position for more than a decade. naturally, she was upgraded to the ‘best friend’ title.

the biggest issue you had with lee hee jae was that she hated her brother getting so much attention, and she has always condemned him about it.

which was pretty ironic, given the number of love letters that show up in her locker everyday.

but thanks to her cold, a-little-more-than-mean superficial personality, most guys don’t have enough of a pair to talk to her in person. sure, she won’t hesitate to stab a bitch, but you knew her well enough to know that if the love of her life, son young jae, were to suddenly sprout feelings for her and confess, she might just nose bleed and pass out.

but does she know you have had the biggest, fattest crush on her older brother?

no.

she’d kidnap you and torture you and brainwash you to unlike him.

maybe that’s why he hasn’t got any girlfriends.

“you’re zoning out again,” she snaps her finger in your ear and the sharp click jumps you. you bare your teeth in annoyance and feign a hit towards her, but she doesn’t flinch.

your little high school crush on her brother wasn’t getting any weaker as the years went by. in fact, it’s been getting stronger. now that you’ve seen the way he treats his friends, how kind and considerate he was, not to mention that body-- well--

let’s just say you went from just appreciating his face, to everything in general. it was only a matter of time before she finds out that the one man you were simping over out of the eleven boys was her brother.

of the eleven boys, it just had to be her brother.

“hee jae,” you pull out a pencil and start to randomly doodle in your notebook. “haven’t you ever considered talking to eric?”

she shoots you a death glare, but you’re used to it.

“i thought we agreed not to speak of this in school!” she leans into you and hisses, eyes piercing right through your head. if her eyes had lazers, your head would’ve been blasted off completely after years of her angry glaring.

“no, but eric just seems so... chill, y’know? he’s either cleaning his table and packing his stuff or outside playing baseball, there’s literally nothing stopping you from talking to him.”

she rolls her eyes and snatches your pencil away from you in a bid to piss you off so you’d stop talking.

“give it back--” you snatch the stationery from her and hiss at her like a cat. “you’re literally in the damn baseball team with him. it’s not that difficult to make up a story and start a conversation with him.”

“ha,” she’s finally mastered the art of fake laughter. “easy for you to say. you simp for all eleven of them and can’t choose one for you to worry about it like i do.”

that was fun to hear.

“well, forget eric,” she waves it off. “are we doing anything after school?”

anything but going to your house. i don’t want to be stuck under the same roof as your brother, my heart would get a seizure and i’ll probably die on the spot.

“my mom’s making crepes today, and i know you love that shit,” hee jae snickers, pulling out a baseball from her bag and throwing it into the air and catching it.

“aw, man... not the crepes,” you pout and side eye her, leaning back into your seat.

“why are you so uptight about going to my place? you’ve been there a billion fucking times, you literally live there now.”

that’s cause i’m only over when your brother isn’t around!

“ugh, okay fine. but i gotta dash home first to grab some homework. i left some of it at home ‘cause i wasn’t expecting an invitation today.”

she squeals, showing you a part of her that nobody else has the privilege of seeing. “sick,” she gets out of the seat she dragged to yours and brings it back to where she took it from. “call my home number and tell me you’re on your way before you leave your house!”

you nod un-enthusiastically, waving her off before she leaves the classroom and returns to hers.

you were finally back at home, showered and changed into comfortable clothes while you shoved all your homework into your bag. you leave your parents a text to tell them that you’d spend the afternoon and evening at heejae’s so they don’t have to worry about your dinner, then you dial her home number.

the phone was on it’s eighth ring, and you were already one foot out of the door. usually, it doesn’t take her that long to pick up the phone.

“this little bitch invites me over and doesn’t pick up the damn--”

“hello?”

your grip tightens around your phone and you stumble out of your house, the door swinging shut behind jumps you and you process the voice on the other end of the line.

“uh--”

“is this y/n?”

“uh... yeah, this is she.”

he knows me?

shut up, of course he knows you. you’ve been friends with his sister for a decade!

“oh, okay, cool. heejae’s in the toilet right now and she said she’ll get it but i couldn’t stand the sound of the phone ringing.”

“ah...” your voice trails off, unsure of how to respond. you were just preoccupied with how soothing his voice was, and just imagining his face with the phone to his ear on the other line was just so--

“hello? y/n? you there?”

“yeah, yeah, sorry i was... crossing a road.” you weren’t even moving; you were just planted into the pavement like a tree.

“actually, why don’t i go and pick you up? your place is on the way to the shopping mall and my mom just told me to go get some groceries, do you want to tag along? we can head back to my place afterwards and you can get the crepes you like.”

where in the world was he getting all this information from?

“uh--” you stammer into the receiver for the billionth time. he must think you have some kind of speech problem by now.

“you know what? just hang tight for a few minutes. heejae’s still in the bathroom so she doesn’t get a say in what i do if i decide it without her presence,” you hear him walk around on the house and call out for his mom to tell her he was leaving for the shopping mall. “you live on 31st avenue, right? the white house with the blue roof?”

“uH--” you really need to get a grip on yourself.

“i guessed. hang tight, i’ll be there in a sec! see you!”

hyunjae doesn’t bother to wait for you to hang up before he does. the line goes dead and the beep nearly deafens you, but you couldn’t believe your ears. you were about to be in the same vehicle as lee hyun jae. one of the most popular boys in school, the handsomest man alive, the love of your li--

whoa.

too fast.

you shake the nonsensical daydreams out of your head and walk back to the steps of your door. while waiting, you can’t help but to let the quiet crush on him run your mind recklessly.

what if he was just messing with you and he’s just chilling at home? what if he knows that you have a crush on him and he’s just having fun? what if he thinks you’re weird for hanging out with his sister? what if he’s caught you staring and he thinks you’re a creep? oh my god, what if heejae’s told him embarrassing stories about you and now he’s going to poke fun at you with that?

you stare blankly at the little weeds in the cracks of the pavement, the thoughts in your head running wild as you slowly convince yourself he’s not going to turn up.

but the familiar silver family car rolls up at the end of the pavement, and the windows roll down to reveal hyunjae in sunglasses wearing a simple white tee-shirt.

“did i keep you waiting?” he pushes down his sunglasses and looks at you over the rim, one arm dangling outside the window.

you shake your head, suddenly losing all ability to speak.

“alrighty then, get in. we’re heading for the shopping mall.” he nods his head towards the car, retracting his arm back into the vehicle.

your heart was thumping so aggressively and so loudly you were sure he could hear it. hell, he could probably see it.

“how’s school? i haven’t seen you around back in my house after... what, about five years? you were always around when i was out, if i didn’t know better, i’d think you were avoiding me,” his voice was so alluring, you had to constantly remind yourself that he was actually saying something.

“uh-- well....”

come on, say something. anything.

“i guess god just doesn’t want us to meet.”

no, it’s because you were avoiding him. what the flying fuck was that?

he laughs heartily, his teeth catching the light of the afternoon sun and glistens in your vision. “if that’s the case then god really needs to give me a break.”

your little-crush-on-him morphs into a tiny character in your head and it starts yelling at you. did he just say what you think he just said?

“no, i mean,” he glances at you, hands still on the steering wheel once he notices you’ve gone eerily silent. “i would’ve spoken to you and tried to be actual friends with you sooner, but heejae never wants me talking to her friends. you can imagine how she is with her best friend.”

you sigh heavily, the mention of your best friends’ name loosening some knots in your stomach. “lee hee jae is just something. not sure what, but something.”

“it does baffle me to think about how you put up with her for what, nine years now?”

you were looking out the window, and the idea of being in the same car as hyunjae doesn’t seem as tormenting as it seemed once you realise the best support you’ve had for the last ten years was lee hee jae.

“eleven, actually,” you say without looking at him, eyes zeroing on a couple walking a dog on the pavement by the road. “yeah i guess she can be a handful sometimes, especially with how cold and mean she is on the outside...”

the car stops at a traffic junction.

“but put her in front of one guy and she’ll pass the fu--”

“‘one guy’?” he interrupts.

your eyes widen and you suck your lips between your teeth, wincing a little to yourself when you realise what you just said.

“lee hee jae has a crush on someone?” you hear him scoff and a brotherly chuckle rushes out his lips. “do you know who it is?”

you were about to protest and stop him from trying to dig the information that you nearly disclosed, but he interrupts you again.

“y’know what? don’t tell me. i’ll guess. i’ll just watch your reactions while i’m at it.”

you grit your teeth and tighten your temples. you don’t realise how sweaty your palms were until your phone slides out from underneath your skin when the car starts to move.

“is it kevin? no wait-- doesn’t feel like it.”

is he going to just start talking on his own until he finds someone he thinks suits her and then look at my face to read my expression?

“i don’t think she’s the kind to go for someone older than me or my age. so that takes sangyeon, jacob, younghoon-- is it younghoon? no, it’s not... ah, no matter how i think about it, someone nearer your age pops up. haknyeon, sunwoo, eric. it’s one of the three.”

that wasn’t so hard. hee jae must be easy for her brother to read.

“are you really going to let me play this elimination game alone?” he raises a brow and turns the wheel, driving into the car park of the shopping mall. the little gesture causes your heart to involuntarily skip a beat, and you could see his eyes folding even behind the sunglasses when he turns his head.

“your sister would kill me if she knew i even started this conversation, so i’m just refraining from deepening my grave.”

you hear him laugh through his nose. “relax, i’m not going to tell her you said this. i’ve seen the way she looks at us whenever we’re in school. she gives me a look of disgust but she always reserves a blush on her cheeks for someone. i just can’t put my finger on who it is.”

“you mean you notice the way she looks at you and your friends? that’s a little weird.”

the car starts to reverse into a parking lot and he pulls the gears into parking mode. there was a short silence in the air as he lays his finger on the start up button of the car and he turns to look at you, now without the sunglasses to block your view of his eyes.

“you’d be surprised that i notice a lot of things.”

he flashes you a smile and reaches for the door on his side, pushing himself out as if he didn’t just expose both you and your best friend.

you were just tailing hyunjae while he told you what was on the grocery list, and you start filling the basket. he doesn’t stop guessing though, but the entire time spent with him only made you feel like he was so comfortable to be around.

besides his pretty face, of course.

you were waiting for him to pay for the items while you stood outside when heejae’s caller ID showed up on your phone screen.

“where the hell are you?”

“hello to you too,” you roll your eyes. “your brother said he was going to get me and now we’re shopping for groceries before we return to your place. didn’t your mom tell you?”

“what? no, she didn’t. she just told me he went out to get groceries.”

“huh?” you look over your shoulder to see hyunjae paying the cashier. “are you saying that your mom lied about me?”

“now, why would she do that?”

“she’s your mom, not mine. why don’t you ask her instead?”

hyunjae picks up the grocery bags and walks towards you, looking into them and making sure he didn’t miss out anything.

“this is so fucking weird. where’s hyunjae? pass the phone to him,”

“we’re done, let’s go.” hyunjae stops by your side, noticing that you were on the phone.

“don’t you dare hang up on me, pass the phone to him!” hee jae screams into the receiver. you wince and pull it away from your ear, shooting hyunjae a look of slight confusion as you hand him the phone.

“it’s your sister.”

he sighs and places the bags on the floor, wiping his hands on his pants before taking it.

you could hear hee jae screaming at him on the other end, but hyunjae’s face doesn’t change one bit besides that sweet smile plastered to his lips while he let his sister berate him. hyunjae got bored extremely quickly, and he was already removing the phone from his ear while he repeated the word ‘bye’ into the receiver.

he hands the phone back to you and hangs it up for you, picking up the bags and heading back to the car.

by the time you reach the road right outside their house, heejae was standing on the porch, anxiously tapping her foot on the wooden boards.

“oh, no,” he groans, looking out the window and observing heejae like she was a lion in the savannah. “well, just another day for us people who have to deal with miss lee.”

he says so coyly, pushing himself out of the car and going to open the door of the backseat. you help yourself out, and heejae storms toward you, fists balled by her side and steam coming out through her ears.

you thought she was going to scream at you for accepting a ride from hyunjae, but she dodges you and opens the backseat door opposite hyunjae to yell at him in the car.

“what made you think it was a great idea to pick her up? didn’t we have a deal that both our friends were out of bounds to each other?”

wait what--

“yah, lee hyunjae!” she yells at the top of her voice as he ignores her, pulling out of the car and walking towards the house. “we had a deeeeeaaaaaaal!”

you grab onto heejae and turn her around, trying to peel her attention away from her brother and to you so you could get a grasp on what she just said.

“did you just say what i think you just said?!” you blink in surprise at her, and the thought of hyunjae finding an excuse just to spend time with you melts you into a puddle of hopeless goop.

“no,” she says with a stern face, lifting a finger and pointing at you in the face. “no.”

“well--” she yanks herself out of your grip and turns to the house. “what’s so bad about dating your siblings’ friends? you like eric.”

she literally screeches to a stop and turns around with eyes that were burning. honestly, it was pretty funny to see her so riled up, knowing that she wasn’t angry at you. she was angry with hyunjae for... whatever he did, and the fact that she just had to fall for someone in hyunjae’s circle of friends. it was a slap in her face, or whoever thought about the no-dating-siblings’-friends pact.

“is that why you don’t want to talk to eric? because of this... deal?” you raise a brow, entertained, completely forgetting that there was the slightest chance that hyunjae might’ve been looking for an excuse to hang out with you, and he had just succeeded.

she had no words, but her silence was enough to let you unpack the situation.

“ah... i see,” you fold your arms across your chest and smirk at her. then you remember you were standing right outside lee hyunjae’s house. this was your chance to dig the information out from her. “so if this deal is stopping you from talking to eric, then is it safe to assume that it’s similar for hyunjae?”

you could see her bottom lip quivering upon your question, as she realises that you’ve finally found out why she was keeping a distance from her own teammate. but her silence also pushes you further into confusion. does that mean--

“look, you can’t date hyunjae, okay? i forbid it. the last time a girl dated someone in that group of friends of his, they broke up because she got bullied by other girls in school. i told hyunjae he wasn’t allowed to date any of my friends so i wouldn’t need to beat the fuck out of any bullies and get myself expelled,” she huffed and hugged her torso. “and i made him agree to that deal by promising him that neither i nor any of my friends would date his.”

you shake your head, fingers pressing into your temples and hair while you let the story unfold from her narration.

“my mom didn’t tell me about him going to get you because... well... he--”

“i like you!”

your heart stops and you think your blood stopped flowing through you as well. heejae’s head snaps back to look at the house and the source of noise, and she pulls out a shoe to hurl it at hyunjae.

“ah--!” he starts yelling once she reaches him with the shoe. “let me at least try, god damn it! sunwoo only let his girlfriend get bullied because he’s a dumbass-- ow! but i’m not gonna let her get bullied, i promise!”

you slowly turn your head to see hyunjae trying to dodge every hit, and he starts running away from her and toward you. he pulls you in front of him so you were standing between him and heejae, who was holding onto the shoe so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

“y/n, take a chance with me, would you? i’ve always noticed the both of you looking at us but it always bothered me that i have no idea who either of you are looking at--”

he dodges a side swing, and your view of heejae trying to reach him was pretty hilarious, if you weren’t acting as his shield.

“what makes you think she’ll say yes?! she can’t even choose--”

“i do, heejae,” finally, you’ve decided to shoot your shot. heejae freezes with the shoe in mid-air, and hyunjae’s hold on your shoulders tighten. “i’ve only said i can’t choose only because i didn’t want you to know that it was your brother i liked.”

you couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. all that effort to keep it hidden only to expose yourself infront of both heejae and her brother at once?!

she looked like she wanted to slap you with the shoe now, and you flinch when she shifts, closing your eyes to brace for impact.

but it doesn’t come.

you open one eye and look at her, and she looked like she’s completely resigned to fate. she shakes her head like your mother would when you did something stupid, and she squats to get her shoe back on her feet.

“i give up,” she grunts, shoving her feet into her shoe and tying the laces messily before standing up again. “of all eleven of them, him?” she raises an agitated brow and points to the boy hiding behind you.

“it wouldn’t have been so annoying if it had been one of his friends, but him?!”

you turn back to look at hyunjae, who was giving you puppy eyes as if he was already your boyf--

too fast.

“does it look like i chose to like him?” you pout, hands reaching out to her and trying to play for affection.

“for fucks’ sake,” she groans, face palming herself. “now i’m going to look like a shitty friend and sister if i don’t let you two date.”

“on the bright side..” you pull her into a hug and tighten your hold, knowing that whatever you were going to say next was going to warrant another violent outburst from her. “if hyunjae and i date, that means the deal’s broken and...”

“you can talk to eric now.”

“AH! SO IT’S ERIC?!”

#timetohajima #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #lee jaehyun #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz one shot #the boyz scenario #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagine #hyunjae one shot #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae imagine #timetohajima playlist feels

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thedevilsruby · 2 years

Text

High School AU (Clierra Multi AU)

High School Sweethearts

Arlo looked up from his chemistry book on Pokemon to see his best friend gazing at the other side of the room. He smirked, eyes travelling back to his page. "Wasting your time, Cliff. Aiden has Sierra wrapped around his finger."

Cliff glared at his best friend. "Let me dream, Ar."

He couldn't help having the hugest crush on Sierra Rossi, one of the toughest girls at Viridian High. Cliff has watched her work out in the school gym after lunch sometimes, she could take down anything and anyone that stood in her way.

He glared as that cocky bastard she called a boyfriend had his arm around her. He was blabbing about who knows what to an eager cheerleader, while Sierra scrolled on her phone.

"He doesn't deserve her, Arlo. She's way too good for him." Cliff grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What else is new?" Arlo mumbles. "You say that everyday."

Lunchtime came and Cliff was at his usual table with Arlo, who was eating some recipe his mother had packed for him. Sierra was with Aiden, who looked so fucking smug as he was talking to the cheerleader before, even when Sierra was trying to get his attention. Sierra glared at her boyfriend before walking off in a random direction.

Cliff glared. "That's it. Arlo, I'm taking my chance." Cliff declared, throwing his now empty milk carton in the trash as he stood up and started walking towards the brunette.

"Cliff, wait! Don't be so hasty! Cliff!" Arlo tried to call out but it was no use, Cliff had already followed Sierra like a lost Growlithe.

Cliff felt Butterfree in his stomach as he walked towards her. Weeks of admiring her from afar were torture, he craved to hold and touch her, talk to her...

"Hey, wait!" He called out. Sierra whiled around, Cliff could have sworn she went in slow motion, she looked so beautiful.

"Uh, hi?" She looked confused.

"Uh hi..." He said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Why didn't he think this though, that he would get this far? "I uh...I'm in your geography class and..."

"I know you," She chirped. "Grossberg, right?"

"Yeah, that's my last name. My name is Cliff." He nodded.

"Oh Cliff...that's nice." Sierra said. "I'm uh...I'm guessing you need something." She said.

"Actually, I was...hoping to get to know you. I mean like as a person! Well, not that you're not a person but-I mean-...oh shit." Cliff muttered, wanting to die right then and there.

Sierra blinked for a few seconds then started giggling. "Oh my stars, I made her laugh." Cliff thought, feeling fuzzy inside.

"I know what you mean. I think you're the first guy who's taken an interest in me since I started dating Aiden. Well, not that he think I'm interesting anymore..." She mumbled, playing with a strand of her hair while looking at the floor. "He'd rather talk to Iris than me."

"Is that the cheerleader?" Cliff asked, "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're greater than Iris. You're more interesting."

Sierra smiled sadly, "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, really! Is...it ok if I give you my number? Maybe we can text or video chat at some point."

Cliff could have sworn he saw red in her cheeks quickly. "I'd like that very much, Cliff."

A week and over a thousand texts later, it happened. Sierra called Cliff crying. "Aiden dumped me for Iris, he said she could help boost his image because she's a popular cheerleader and I'm the girl everyone fears!"

"That son of a bitch." Cliff snarled. "Hey, who the hell needs him, Erra?" Erra was the new nickname Arlo had made for her (Arlo had grown to like her after Cliff had introduced them) "Look, pretty girls like you shouldn't be crying over a douche like him. You deserve better."

"Like you?"

Both ends went silent. Cliff was stunned, did she just...?

Sierra immediately backpedaled. "Oh Entei, I shouldn't have said that, I'm so sorry, Cliff, I think I should-"

"You free tonight?" Cliff found himself asking.

Another silence filled the end. "What...were you thinking?" Sierra asked.

Cliff gulped. This was really happening. "Pizza? At that Slice of Life place?"

"I'll meet you there in half an hour." She sounded happy to say that. Cliff had to admit, he was happy about this too.

The next day, Cliff had told Arlo about his amazing date with Sierra. But when Cliff had told his best friend what Aiden had done to Sierra, Arlo said he had some business to take care of and hung up.

When they went back to school, everyone was shocked to see Aiden sporting a bandaged broken nose. Cliff and Sierra looked to Arlo, who opened his book.

"That's unfortunate, who ever would have guessed Aiden would finally get put in his place by having that perfect nose broken?" Arlo asked, shooting an innocently look at his friends, who smiled at him as thanks.

Cliff and Sierra knew they were going to be the happiest couple in school.

#pokemon #pokemon go #leader sierra #leader cliff #team go rocket leader sierra #team go rocket leader cliff #cliff x sierra #sierra x cliff #clierra au #clierra

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked PT. 4

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,620 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Assaults

Author’s Note: This chapter goes deeper into the past trauma and assaults. If those are triggers for you, be advised and be responsible. -Thorne

She drifted. Weightless like a buoy on the sea, like a feather on the wind. It was comfortable, something she hadn’t felt in years. As if the burdens had finally left her shoulders. She almost felt like not leaving.

She cracked an eye open and stared at the sky above her, as blue as it’d ever been. Strange. She thought. Last thing I remember is collapsing on the tavern steps. And with the gentle roll of her head, she saw a woman in robes next to her.

The woman smiled, dark wine-colored lips parting to show pearly whites. “You’ve been asleep for a long time, (Y/N).” she murmured.

(Y/N) heaved a sigh. “Hello Na’ilah.” She looked away, glaring at the perfectly clear sky. “So that’s it then? I’m finally dead?”

Na’ilah snorted and helped her sit up. “No, not yet.” She caught (Y/N)’s eyes. “You’re in that little space between here and there.”

“Great,” (Y/N) scoffed. “The in-between. As if I didn’t have anything better to do than spend time around here.”

“You’re rather upset for someone who isn’t bleeding to death anymore.”

“I’m not upset, Na’ilah. I’m pissed.” She grunted.

“At?” Na’ilah encouraged, but (Y/N) kept silent, causing her to sigh. “You’ve always been terrible at expressing your feelings.”

That did the trick and (Y/N) glared at her. “I have not. I just don’t do it often.” She clambered to her feet and stared at the desert expanse. “Why the hell is the in-between a fucking desert?” She kicked at the sand. “It’s hot and sandy and not fun.”

Na’ilah snorted and rose to her feet as well. The cloak billowed around her. “Oh complain, complain. Life’s better now than it was. You live in a nice tavern and get paid quite a big sum.”

“What? Have you been spying on me through the clouds in heaven?”

“Something like that.” Na’ilah took her by the hand and they began to walk across the sand.

“I hope you’re taking me somewhere that has shade, because if all this place is, is desert? Yeah, I’ll just decide to die.”

Na’ilah turned on her and smiled. “This place is a part of you, (Y/N). It can be anything you make it to be—you get to decide.”

(Y/N) eyed the older woman suspiciously then shut her eyes. In an instance, she felt the heat of the sun come off her and the smell of ale rise through her nose. She opened her eyes and saw the interior of The Ethereal Crew Tavern before her.

“Odd choice, given that you hate alcoholic beverages.” Na’ilah commented. “Though this place is considered safe to you, so it fits.”

She pulled away and sat down in one of the booths, nodding at the seat across from her. (Y/N) slid into it and stared at her. She hadn’t changed. Bright green eyes full of mirth, a calm smile, and yet for a dead woman, she looked as though she hadn’t aged a day.

“I guess dying at thirty-seven does that to a woman.” She murmured.

(Y/N) recoiled with a glower. “Get out of my head.”

“Then don’t think so loudly.” Na’ilah countered and for a moment, they glared at each other, then burst into laughter.

When they calmed, the older woman waved a hand and a set of tea appeared. (Y/N) picked up one of the teacups and looked inside. “Kuwaiti tea?”

“Your favorite, as I recall.”

“Haven’t had in in a while.”

“You drank some last week.” Na’ilah laughed.

(Y/N)’s expression turned solemn and she stared into the golden tea. “Not yours, I haven’t.” The older woman’s face dropped, and she looked at her. “Why are you here, Na’ilah?”

“Can’t I be here to visit my favorite apprentice?”

“You’re not real.”

Na’ilah cocked a dark, elegant brow. “Oh? Am I just a figment of your imagination? A last defense before your body finally shuts down?” She waited on (Y/N)’s answer.

“I don’t know,” (Y/N) muttered. “But I know you’re not the real Na’ilah.”

“And why am I not?”

She met the older woman’s eyes. “Because she’s dead.”

Na’ilah smiled sadly. “Dead, yes. But never truly gone.”

(Y/N) huffed humorlessly. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

She took a sip of her tea, refined as always in her mannerisms. “You know as well as I that death isn’t the end. Merely a beginning.”

“And how long did that beginning take for you after you threw me into that boat? Days? Weeks? Years?” (Y/N)’s eyes were hard, yet so pained.

Na’ilah hummed. “You can stop holding that over yourself, (Y/N). My death wasn’t your fault.”

“My escape was.”

“That I orchestrated. That I put into motion.” She looked at her. “I helped you escape so that you would be free, not so you could live your life repenting for it.” (Y/N) didn’t respond and she remarked, “Do you genuinely think I let him kill me? That my final moments were not my own doing?”

(Y/N) met her gaze and saw a clarity in her eyes. “You killed yourself then?”

“I did.” Na’ilah answered. “Up on that hill we always saw through the window. The hill that touched the moon.” She tipped her head to the side. “I died on my own terms, (Y/N). Will you choose yours?”

The tea tasted bitter in her mouth, despite the sugar in it. “I don’t feel free.”

“That’s because you view your freedom through a noose. You think of freedom as some one-shot deal where if you take the final step it’ll be your last.” Na’ilah took her hand. “That mark on your skin holds nothing. It’s merely a piece of the past. Let it go and focus on the future.”

(Y/N) felt a mirthless smile cross her lips. “That’s easy for you to say—you’re dead. I can’t take my clothes off without seeing his symbol branded on my abdomen.”

“Then get it removed.” (Y/N) met Na’ilah’s eyes. “The only reason you haven’t is because you’re afraid that you’ll have nothing to hold onto if you do.”

“That’s not—”

“Then why didn’t you get it removed when you got to the colonies? Why didn’t you have someone burn it away? Why didn’t you have someone paint over it with tattoos? Why didn’t you do something about it?”

Na’ilah’s eyes held an expectance and (Y/N) threw her hands in the air. “I don’t fucking know! Okay! I don’t know!” She dropped her arms and put her face in her hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t get rid of the brand.”

“I think you do.” Na’ilah encouraged. “I think you do every time you look in the mirror and remember your younger years.”

(Y/N) peered between her fingers and sighed. “It was the one thing I could always blame things on. The pain and hatred. After I escaped…I was afraid that if I got rid of it, I wouldn’t have anything to pour my rage into. That I would forget why I do the things I do and am the way I am around others.”

“And so, you keep it as a safety net. But also, a reminder to be cautious of those around you.”

“I don’t trust at all.”

Na’ilah smiled. “I think you trust those two. Especially the one.”

(Y/N) grunted, knowing exactly who the woman was talking about. “Shay’s a pain in my ass and talks about how mean I am all the time and Haytham’s nosey as hell and thinks it’s amusing when I snap at him.”

“But you trust them.”

Figuring it better to agree than to fight, (Y/N) huffed. “Only a bit.”

“I think it’s more than a bit.” Na’ilah quipped and she rolled her eyes.

They lapsed into a silence, quietly sipping their tea, then (Y/N) asked, “Is this what it’s like to live after what we went through? To distrust every hand that comes your way? To be a shell?” She met Na’ilah’s eyes. “I don’t even remember who I used to be when I was a child before living at the Viviani Residence.” She huffed. “I don’t even remember what it was like to be a child.”

“Do you know what I see you as now?”

(Y/N) laughed mirthlessly. “A cold-hearted bitch who keeps people at arms-length and kills rapists and murderers?”

Na’ilah didn’t laugh. “I see a young woman in her thirties who has suffered more pain and strife than any should ever have to. And instead of succumbing to all the trauma, she has used it as a means to save other women and children from ever having to suffer it too.” She took (Y/N)’s hand. “I see a young woman who is so afraid to trust people, especially men, that she has drawn a line in the sand and keeps everyone away so that she doesn’t experience those pains ever again. I see a young woman who struggles everyday to express her feelings clearly yet keep them so hidden, so no one learns her past.”

She squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, watching tears slide down her cheeks. “I see a young woman who is so strong and so passionate in her way to help others.” Her other hand reached up and wiped the tears from (Y/N)’s face. “Most of all, I see the young woman I trained day in and day out for years and ultimately gave my life for so that she could find freedom. In helping others. In finding love. In finding peace.”

Her image began to fade, and the feel of her hand became feather-light. (Y/N) grabbed her hands tight. “Don’t leave me alone, Na’ilah. Not again.”

Na’ilah smiled. “You have never been alone. I have always been with you.” Barely a specter, she said, “You are not your past. Just as this world bends to your will, so does reality. No one else’s words can give your life definition. Only yours, (Y/N).”

“Na’ilah,” she whispered, vision beginning to brighten.

“And in the end, you are what you make yourself to be, (Y/N).” She laughed, but it sounded like tinkling bells in (Y/N)’s ears. “What are you going to make yourself, (Y/N)?”

***

When she opened her eyes once more, she was met by the ceiling of the tavern she knew all too well. A heavy feeling set in her chest and she turned her head, catching sight of Haytham asleep in the chair beside the bed, arms curled across his chest. She snorted silently at how his chin dipped into his chest, quiet snores sounding from him. (Y/N) took a moment to observe him closer.

His hair was in disarray, unkempt strands had pulled from the usually tight ribbon, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the window and she saw dawn peeking through the window, telling her that she’d at least slept through the whole night, but if she was being realistic, she’d probably been out for more than a couple days. (Y/N)’s side ached with a fury and she gently flexed her fingers to get the blood flowing before she shifted her hand to her waist. The bandage around it felt clean and it was underneath her shirt, so at least they’d listened to her delirious request to keep her clothed.

(Y/N)’s fingers trialed below her left breast to the mark branded into her skin. She traced the raised flesh, forming a ‘V’, a frown crossing her lips and she decided that when she could finally walk, she was going to cut if off or burn it away. Na’ilah was right—she used it as a reminder and she no longer needed it. (Y/N) inhaled deeply. Maybe I’ll ask Shay where I can get a tattoo and I’ll get it covered. Maybe a rose? What about a sparrow? Because they fly and they’re free and oh my god that’s too cliché. How about a—

“(Y/N)?”

She damn near jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, eyes darting to her side to see Haytham leaning over. He looked truly tired, like he hadn’t slept in years. She swallowed and pulled her hand from underneath her shirt. “Hey,” she murmured.

Haytham stood but took a moment to stretch and she couldn’t help but snort at how he groaned from the cracking of his joints. He turned to the desk and after a moment, appeared with a cup. “Here,” he said. “You’re probably thirsty.”

Now that he mentioned it, she was parched, and (Y/N) grunted as she forced herself to sit up, ignoring his concern. She held out her hand and he gave her the cup, watching as she downed it in one drink.

(Y/N) lowered the cup from her mouth. “Thank you.”

Haytham nodded, taking the cup back. “How do you feel?” he asked.

She met his gaze and smiled. “Like I got stabbed in the side then spent time in a feverish sleep.” He huffed through his nose. “In all, pretty good for what happened.”

“Your little stunt almost killed you. You’ve been out for three days. You should’ve told me,” he chastised and behind his eyes she could see a slight anger directed at her.

It almost made her roll her eyes, but she looked away. “I should’ve.”

He almost sputtered but caught himself. “What did you just say?” Haytham grinned. “Did you just agree with me about your personal condition?” He reached over and felt her forehead. “Are you still feverish?”

(Y/N) glared at him but didn’t pull away from his touch. “Don’t make me punch the shit out of you, Haytham.”

His steel eyes met hers and he lowered his hand, gently caressing her cheek. “That’s the second time you’ve used my name.”

The smile he wore made her heart race a bit and she pulled a glower. “I’m getting closer to punching you.” He smiled and moved his hand. “Who saw to my wound?”

“I did.” Her eyes narrowed and he raised his hands in surrender. “Priscilla and her mother tended to it, but I helped them in the medical area.”

“Did you remove my clothing?” (Y/N) inquired.

“No. They lifted your shirt to your stomach to see the wound, but other than that, no.”

His words held his utmost assurance and she nodded. She knew he wanted to ask but wouldn’t unless she brought it up.

She looked at him. “I have a mark on my skin that I don’t want anyone seeing.”

Haytham cocked a dark brow. “A birthmark?”

“A scar.” (Y/N) looked past his head at the wall. “From a bad time.” He seemed to understand, and her eyes focused back on him. “Maybe I’ll—”

She went quiet and Haytham echoed, “Maybe I’ll?”

(Y/N) held out a shaky hand and he softly placed his in hers; she gazed at him and murmured, “I will tell you about it one day. I ask that you give me time though.”

“Of course,” he promised. “Your past is yours to reveal when you wish, (Y/N).”

She pulled her hand away rather quickly, pretending to not notice the somewhat hurt expression on her face. “Thank you.” She said hurriedly. “Now, get out so I can get up and change my clothes.”

Haytham snorted. “Your mind changes fast, you know that, yes?”

(Y/N) raised a fist. “I’m two seconds away from punching the stupid smile off your face.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He chuckled and stood up, heading for the door.

She called out to him before he opened it. “Haytham?”

He turned and waited with a smile.

“Thank you…for watching over me…while I slept.”

Haytham tipped his head, his eyes full of fondness for her. “Of course, (Y/N).” And he was gone, leaving her with the full scent of cedarwood and peppermint—of Haytham.

#haytham kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader imagine #haytham kenway x reader imagines #haytham kenway imagine #haytham kenway imagines #haytham kenway #ac rogue imagine #ac rogue imagines #ac rogue #assassins creed rogue #assassins creed rogue imagine #assassins creed rogue imagines #ac imagines #ac imagine #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #shay cormac

36 notes · View notes

artxmisery · 3 years

Note

doing this for tma since thats sadly the only one i know enough about to get anything out of your answers. salty asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 11, 26, 27

1: any otps you just don't get? not really? idk, anyone outside of the main cast ig, they just don't have enough time to get a sense of their personalities and thus good ships

2: any otps you only brotp? none of the popular ones, no

3: have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion? nope

4: do you have a notp? not really

9: most disliked character(s)? i hate annabelle cain bc web sucks and i hate michael crew bc he's a little bitch

11: is there an unpopular character you like? elias (although he's not a sexyman either he's just a good character)

26: most shippable character? ssssasha??? idk lol

27: least shippable character? JURGEN LEITNER?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JURGEIN LEITNER

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JURGEIN LEITENER I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP BOOKS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jurgein leitners waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with jurgein leitner speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects books but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham

BETTER have had a book make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateJurgeinLeitner

episodes not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his library and I lost it

where the fuck is jurgein leitner if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

ill punch leitner and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final book he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when jurgen died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true books

#ask #cryptid-spookaloo #hope that answers 27

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itgetsdarksometimes35 · 4 years

Text

Grace, Too one shot

18+

Pairings: Dark Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Following up with the reader from grace, too by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 9 years later.

Warnings: Dub con, kidnapping, multiple pregnancies, children, brainwashing, lots of errors because I just wrote this and didn’t check for grammatical errors, that’s about it I think

A/N: Please be aware of the warnings, they’re there for a reason. Although this story isn’t really going in depth of what happened, I do suggest reading the actual story by the wonderful @darkficsyouneveraskedfor In fact, I’m not suggesting. I’m telling. Go read her stuff becaus it’s legit the best, don’t be dumb. This story couldn’t have been possible without Roo, and I love her so much for allowing me to do this. She really helped bring these dark thoughts I’ve always had out and she has helped inspire me. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! Make sure to give me feedback, it’s my first dark fic/fic in general! Without further ado:

Grace, Too

It has been 9 years. Three of which were spent locked in the basement because I couldn’t be trusted. During the time of the 3rd year I became pregnant. Not a glorious pregnant that you would see in tv, but the kind that makes you feel like you’re actually going to die. Pregnancy with a super soldier baby is regular pregnancy on steroids. Your back hurts 10x more, the kicks are more extreme and happen way before they normally should, and don’t even get me started on the morning sickness. All the while Steve was there being the most dutiful “husband.” We got married the 4th day. I kicked and screamed and punched and all it got me was a sore ass. He insisted I start cooking with the mini kitchen down in the basement. “Can’t trust you with the big guns yet” he had said while chuckling. I wasn’t much of a cook, the most I could afford, really, was ramen. Steve seemed angry at first about this, he face split for just a second before turning into the golden boy America knows and loves. “That’s okay, honey, I’ll get you a cookbook.” So I learned how to cook. It was a bumpy road but all the while Steve was encouraging, even when I totally bombed the food. He’d pat my leg and say “don’t worry you’re meant to succeed. There’s a reason I chose you, right?.” That smile of his I grew to despise. Partly because after a while I forgot what other smiles looked like on other people. Were they usually that perfect? I couldn’t remember. Another part was because I felt a tug at my heart, after a while, every time he smiled at me. I won’t say the tug was love, more like a tug that a prey would feel if it’s hunter found it to be too adorable to eat. I kept the basement spotless. Not very hard considering I only had a small kitchen with a stove, a mini fridge, a closet with utensils and food, a cooler that he filled with ice everyday, and a small counter; a sitting area with 2 chairs and a table (where Steve and I had dinner); a bathroom with a sink, toilet, small bath with legs, and a cabinet for storage; and finally a main room with a bed, and a tiny bookshelf with 3 books, aside from the 5 cooking books he got me. Steve told me I’d be rewarded with a new book every time I was good. I’ll tell you now, I only got 5 more books during those 3 years. I never really read the 3 books. Sure, my eyes glossed over them from cover all the way to the end, but I couldn’t tell you crap about Animal Farm or how it ended. Everyday he would come down after work and ask me how my day was, as if it could’ve possibly changed from the day before. He would inspect the small area I was forced to call my home, and he would smile with approval if it was up to his standards and punish me if they weren’t. The first few weeks were rough to say the least.

“Honey, you haven’t cleaned. You know what my expectations are.”

“Fuck you and you’re expectations. You’re batshit, you kidnapped me and you’re forcing me to be your wife! You need help!”

After that he’d put me over his knee and make me count. If I lost count he’d start all over. That’s the Steve I grew to know. Not the helping old ladies across the street Steve, not the I saved the world again Steve. The Steve that was broken down and tired from all the world threw at him was the one that kidnapped me. After checking to see if I did my chores, he then checked to see if his dinner was ready. One time I made a singular chicken leg. He didn’t find it funny. He didn’t hurt me often, unless it was sex or a spanking, but that day he slapped me in the face and yelled at me for being disrespectful.

“Don’t you see all that I’ve done for you? And you have the nerve to do this? Don’t be a bitch, y/n.”

“Please, Steve, just let me go.”

After that he realized what he’d done and held my crying form until I fell asleep. I woke up with an already made breakfast and an apology note.

After dinner we had sex. No, sex isn’t the right word. That would imply it was mutual, it wasn’t. But what other choice did I have? The first few nights I did try to stop him, but what’s the point? I’d wake up with bruises on my wrists from him holding me down tightly. So I just laid there. Sadly, he wasn’t too keen on that either. He’d just hit that one spot hard over and over until I was a moaning mess beneath him, begging for him. Begging for what, I still don’t know. Most times he’d make me cum over and over, just because he knew I had no other choice. He knew that I thought bed was my last source of self control; he made sure to show me that not even there I could escape the way he wanted me to feel, to think. After he was finally finished he’d roll over and pull me to his chest. We spent every single night together. He’d caress my face and push the hair out of my eye and give me such a lust blown stare.

“You know I love you, right honey?”

He wasn’t really asking

“Do you love me too?”

If I said no he’d climb back on top of me and either deny me orgasms until I was begging for him to let me cum or he’d make me cum until I was too weak to say anything but the banter of his name and “I love you, too”

The “wedding” was stupid. That’s the only word for it. Nobody was in attendance, except the spider in the corner, but he acted like there was a full house. He made me walk down an “aisle” that was really from the bathroom to him in the middle of the main room. I wore a white gown that looked like it was plucked out of a I Love Lucy episode with a pearl necklace that would make Audrey Hepburn squeal. The shoes were kitten heels that made me feel like I was walking on glass. He wore a plain black suit with a bow tie. He gave a speech and gestured to people not there and then motioned to me. I repeated some of his lines like “I knew it was love when I first saw you” and “I couldn’t be happier than in this moment.” Then he slipped the ring on, we kissed, we signed a paper, and then we danced. During which we both cried. He cried because his twisted fantasy was going his way and I cried because I realized the weight of what I’d just lost. My freedom, my job (even if it sucked), my chance at a real beautiful wedding with the wedding dress of my choosing and the man of my dreams. Most of all I wept for my future. Where was I headed?

I don’t know why it took so long for me to get pregnant. For a while I just thought we couldn’t. The serum obviously had a negative affect on his swimmers. I wasn’t going to suggest this, of course. Then he would find another way to get me pregnant, and I didn’t want that. I could handle the cleaning, the cooking, the persona of a perfect 1940’s housewife, but a baby? Before this I didn’t really know if kids were in my future, but now that I was in the situation that I was in I knew I couldn’t bring a baby into these living conditions. Born into a prison they can never escape from. Some part of me feared it was my fault. I swallowed this theory as well, this could be worse for me than the other one. If u were the problem what would Steve do? It wouldn’t be as easy as letting me go, I’ve seen too much of his true side. The fear ate me alive for 3 years, the entire time I suffered in silence just like I did everything else. Steve didn’t seem too upset about my lack of fertility, and if he was he didn’t show it. He was always so... chippy. Three years straight and never once did he get angry about the lack of a child. One day I was cleaning the room when Steve came in. I immediately jumped up while a cold sweat came down my body. Why is he here? I didn’t cook dinner yet, will he be mad? I don’t have on my housewife dress yet, it gets in the way of my cleaning. He strode in like he’d been given a raise.

“S-steve?”

He hummed but didn’t look up from the bag he had carried in and was now looking through on the kitchen table.

“Why are you home so early? I haven’t made dinner and I’m not dressed properly yet...”

“That’s alright, darling, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

My heart fluttered at this. Was he going to let me walk outside? Or was it more of an object gift? Did he bring me a cell phone? Or a watch? The only way I could tell time was when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving and that he needed a kiss goodbye. I knew I had a while before he got back but the actual time and date was lost on me.

He chuckled, again not looking up. “Well, two gifts actually.”

I start stepping closer, the anticipation killing me. He pulls out a box. He finally looks up and smiles at me. He pushes it towards me and says “open it.”

I do and inside is a onesie with a Captain America shield on it. Right next to it is a stick I’ve grown very accustomed to seeing with one line on it.

“Steve, I don’t understand..”

“I figured it’s been a while since the last time we checked. Why not give it another go, hm? I’m feeling lucky about this time.”

It was in that moment I became aware of everything in slow motion and HD. Was it always this hot in here? Is the basement really this small? Has the fridge always made such an annoying sound?

Steve walked me to the bathroom while I followed absentmindedly. I sat on the toilet and peed. It was in this moment I realized I couldn’t remember my last period. I also became freakishly aware that my stomach has been killing me for days and my boobs have been extremely tender. But I wrote them all off as being his fault. My breasts were because he was too rough in bed, my period being out of wack because I haven’t had contact with another female to sync up with (or maybe I just couldn’t remember because I had no sense of true time), and my stomach because I had been working tirelessly and I hadn’t seen the sun in years. As a timer on Steve’s phone, that I hadn’t realized he even pulled out, he immediately grabs the test. He grows a wicked smile and grabs me and gives me the tightest hug. Turns out it was his fault I was feeling the way I was feeling, it just had nothing to do with any of my theories.

After that he moved me upstairs. He made it such a big deal, I was just being moved from one prison to another. This prison was slightly nicer, though. He had a full kitchen that was bigger than the whole basement. A living room with a tv (I was on restriction from what I could watch but it was still better than those dusty books) A radio, that told me the time and gave me a date every morning (complimentary from man named Joshua Tucker that played the “best classics”). The biggest room in the house was the room I’d be sharing with Steve from now on. There were locks on the windows and doors that could only be unlocked by Steve’s handprint, but I at least got natural lighting up here. Down there all I got were a few dull lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.

As Steve put it this meant more responsibility. More room meant more things to clean. He said he believed in me. He said I’d been a good girl lately and seeing as I’m not pregnant, I needed a better place to stay. He also mentioned that he wouldn’t hesitate to put me back downstairs if I didn’t behave. I believed him and decided that up here was better. So I behaved. He gave me prenatal to take and another medicine to help with my body’s pains. He was less rough with me in bed but he still had that edge to him. He always rubbed my growing belly, kissed it good morning and goodnight, and sometimes he would talk to it. Once I woke up to him reading to it. It was almost...normal.

One day while walking (more like waddling) around the house with my 3 month belly that, thanks to the serum, made me look 7 months. I came across a room I hadn’t been in yet. Steve didn’t introduce me to it so I hadn’t felt the need. I was ahead on my chores and the radio said I had a few more hours before I had to start dinner, so I let myself in. I figured if I were to get into trouble for going inside I would just tell Steve that I was trying to clean it, although lying with him was never my strong point. Inside was a nursery. A black toy car ford was in the corner, big enough for a toddler to ride around in. The crib was gray with a stuffed bear inside, the walls were a gray color, matching the crib, with a white accent wall. There was a changing table and the closet was open spilling at the seams with clothes. There was a toy box and a million picture frames that were yet to be stripped of their generic photos of a happy family. I knew this day would come, where would the baby sleep? It nonetheless freaked me out. It was too real. I was pregnant. I was locked in the house like a prisoner. My baby was now going to be a prisoner. Did Steve want a boy? Everything was a generic boy theme. There was even a photo album on the table that said “daddy’s little boy.” What would happen if it were a girl? I quickly leave the room shutting the door behind me. I look down the hallway and realize there’s several other rooms I hadn’t been in. Were they always there? How big could this house get? There were at least 7 other rooms and every one of them was a nursery. One was a boy nursery another was a girl, there was even a twin themed nursery. This was just baby number one.

By the time it was time for me to give birth, I was so big I couldn’t see a good 2 feet directly below and ahead of me. My hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt. If I would’ve felt several kicks I would’ve said I was pregnant with quadruplets. I knew it was just a single birth, though. I always felt two feet kicking me on one side. I had no actual medical care, Steve said I didn’t need it. He said his grandmothers had given birth to both his parents at home with no problem and during their entire pregnancy hadn’t seen a doctor once. I gave birth on our bed. I felt like I was pushing for hours and the pain was the worst thing I had ever felt. Steve delivered the baby. He was a healthy looking baby boy, to which he named after himself. He had my laugh and my smile but his father’s everything else. Steve was right to name him after himself. The next pregnancies went the same way, none of them getting easier. Sarah was next, she was a spitting image of me, but she acted like Steve’s mother (or so he says). Next came the twins Peggy and Joseph, then Mary-Ann then Virginia-Lynn. I had no say in Sarah’s and Stave’s names but I chose the others. He did give me a list I was told to chose from, but I got the final say nonetheless. We filled up the house pretty quickly.

Now here I sit, pregnant, while Steve helps the kids open their presents. I made hot cocoa while the kids and Steve were out playing in the snow. I was allowed out while pregnant with Sarah, Steve said it was good to have fresh air while pregnant and Steve Jr was getting a little stir crazy while being kept in the house all day. I never tried anything, where would I go? What would I do? Who would believe me? It was better to just sit there, look pretty, while pregnant with my husband’s children. All with grace, too.

@jtargaryen18

#darksteve x reader #darksteverogers #dubcon #darksteverogers x reader

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

Distress

"I trusted you."

"I said I’m sorry Pipes, what more do you want?"

"I was gone for a weekend, Pen. I loved them more than anything in the world," Piper clamoured as they walked in to the conference room. "And now they’re dead because of you." Hotch and Gideon watched the heated discourse between Piper and Penelope.

"I didn’t mean to kill them."

"So, it’s my fault you poured the wrong amount of water on Felix? I left very specific instructions."

"It was a mistake and I said sorry. I even bought you a new one."

"What? You’re just gonna replace Felix? What about Jemima? No, Penelope, you didn’t even tell me. There I was, enjoying my weekend in New York with my sister, not knowing that Felix was dead and Jemima was broken. You know what, I hope all your future cat children die so you know how it feels." Emily just stared at them. "Don’t look at me like that. She killed my children and then replaced them. You watched me water two fake plants for 3 1/2 weeks!" Morgan sniggered. Even Hotch was smiling. "You know what, Penelope, payback’s a bitch," she huffed.

"Houston’s Fifth Ward accounts for a large percent of the city's growing homicide rate, due to gang violence and a bustling narcotics trade. Although in the last 48 hours, there have been 3 distinctive murders in the ward. "

"Distinctive?" Morgan raised his eyebrow, handling his cup of coffee, perched on the table.

"3 men, 3 different socioeconomic groups, All killed on the street with their necks snapped," JJ answered, pointing to the 3 bodies on the screen. The small group of gathered agents looked back as they heard the footsteps of the tall, lanky agent lumbering towards them, sipping from his mug, holding pertinent case files close to his hip. "There appears to be no other injury," JJ continued as Emily glanced at the young doctor who plopped down next to her. Piper couldn’t help noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "And there's no apparent connection between the victims or motive. The ward's detectives are inundated with homicides. Gang violence is a big problem. Shootings, armed robberies, it's an everyday occurrence, But this type of street attack Is new to them," she finished, conscious of Reid not making eye contact.

"Could it be gang related," Emily suggested. "Maybe some new type of initiation rite?"

"The gangs in the ward use guns. In fact, no known gangs exhibit this type of M. O."

"What about dope? These guys come up with pretty freaky ways of killing the competition to get their message out," Derek pointed out.

"Except there just doesn't seem to be any connection between the victims and the drug world. A homeless man, a construction worker and a security guard," Piper contradicted.

"Just 3 dead men and no witnesses."

"We’re looking for a homicidal serial criminal in a neighbourhood populated by criminals. The challenge will be separating him from the rest," Hotch deliberated.

"So, we have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims pre or post-mortem and an indistinguishable M. O.," Spencer scoffed, speaking for the first time. "Should be simple."

^-^

"Our life is made by the death of others." Leonardo Da Vinci

^-^

On the jet, the group mulled the case over. Though Piper wanted to focus on the case, she couldn’t help noticing the tension in Spencer. He was sitting in the corner as opposed to his usual seat in the centre of the jet, pen and pad in hand. Scolding herself for overthinking things, she moved her attention to Morgan. "What’s bugging you?"

"We got a construction worker, an outsider in the community. We got a security guard. That's an authority figure. And then we got a homeless man," he said, gazing at the pictures in his hand. "That’s a powerless victim that no one would notice missing. So who's he targeting?"

"Let's see if any of the victims frequented the same stores or sites."

Spencer rubbed his pen in his hand. "He used blitz attacks," Spencer ruminated. "which means he most likely lacks the interpersonal skills he needed to coerce his victims into coming close. He also used the element of surprise, which means he may have stalked his victims prior to killing them."

"Well, if that's the case, I want to go to the last crime scene To see where he may have been hiding."

"I want to see the neighbourhood for myself," Gideon added. "I’ll go with you."

"Good, the rest of us will go to the precinct and set up shop. Bishop, I want to know everything about our victims."

"There may not be a lot about our homeless victim," she speculated. Though she didn’t like it, many states didn’t like homelessness statistics and preferred to stay blind to them. "I’ll need records from homeless shelters and everything Social Security may have on him."

"Get Garcia to help you with it."

"I'll map out the area and see if I can find any places the victims would have visited in the neighbourhood," Reid offered

"Good, maybe we can find a connection between them. I'll help you with that," Emily added.

"I can handle it," he retorted. Morgan and Bishop looked at him strangely.

"I wasn't suggesting that you couldn’t," Prentiss tried to correct herself.

"Isn’t that what 'I’ll help you with it' means?"

"Reid," Hotch intervened. "Prentiss will help you with the geographical profiling."

"Fine."

"Remember, this is a high crime area. Be vigilant. Nobody goes anywhere alone." Piper sat up straighter at Hotch’s words and glanced back at Spencer who was looking down at his file, failing to subtly itch his face. Shaking herself, she looked back down at the three victims she was supposed to know. She kept profiling the wrong person and she had to focus on the case.

^-^

Reid scanned his blueprint of the city, his back to Prentiss’s eyes watching him and Bishop glancing at files and scribbling under the three pictured victims. Emily turned as JJ walked in holding a plate of, "Homemade cookies?"

"One of the detectives' wives made us cookies," JJ answered, chewing on her own. Piper gasped, abandoning her profile for the sweet baked goodie.

"I worked in Texas for a year. No-one ever made me a cookie." Piper grumbled. "I just got offered play doh food and mud pies from my neighbour’s kids when I’d babysit."

"Yeah, I guess that's what they mean by southern hospitality."

"What are you saying?"

"Southern hospitality," Emily repeated, smiling.

"I need to concentrate... How can anybody hear with all this work going on?" Reid scrambled to close the window.

"Well, you're gonna have to get used to it," JJ said. Reid’s new attitude wasn’t lost on anyone. "Construction crews are working around the clock."

"Yeah, we saw it on the way in." Emily added. Piper’s eyebrows furrowed at Reid as he scratched under his chin.

"City's trying to return to its splendour, and that means that Houston's poorest are being kicked out of their homes," JJ explained, waving her cookie as she talked. Piper mulled it over as Gideon and Morgan walked in.

"Unsub might be homeless. Appears to have been living in a building next to where the security guard was attacked." Piper wrinkled her forehead.

"These are the locations of the last 3 murders,” Spencer pointed out to Gideon, “all near abandoned buildings."

"He knows the neighbourhood, he may have been recently displaced," Hotch said, gazing at the map.

"Could be a motive. Construction worker, security guard at a construction site," Emily suggested. "Payback?"

"What about the homeless man?"

"We get a lot of beefs down there among the homeless. That one could have just been a fight about space or food," the detective offered.

"Let's get a list of residents who've been kicked out of their homes by the gentrification," Gideon said. "You and Reid check out the shelters," he told Prentiss.

"We’re on it. Unless…" She got up. "You okay with that Reid?"

"I'm fine with that."

"We should check to see if there are any mental hospitals in the area, maybe someone who was recently released into the streets," said Hotch.

"JJ and I can do that, maybe narrow down the number of released residents," Piper offered. JJ wiped her hands and grabbed a pencil.

"Morgan, can you cover the police records for the last week? If it's someone who's been recently made homeless, He might have stolen food, comfort items, blankets, toiletries. We might be able to track a pattern of theft."

^-^

"I have no idea what’s gotten into Spencer. He’s never been like this with Emily." JJ was pacing next to Piper who was checking backgrounds.

"I mean, he was abducted by an unsub who had a split psyche and then watched him die. That changes a person." She grabbed another cookie.

"That much?"

"Mhmm. I mean, I can’t even imagine still doing this job after that. I’m surprised he didn’t just leave after what happened."

"You expected him to quit?" Piper put her pen down.

"When Gideon told Garcia to shut down the audience Hankel was getting, I yelled at him. I was about to quit, and I wasn’t even the one he took." She snorted at JJ’s expression. "The point is, the job asks us to do things beyond just catching the unsubs. It asks us to ignore our morals for the sake of saving someone else. Spencer knew that. All I know is that the guy, despite appearances, is strong. He just needs time to adjust and Emily’s the one taking the heat," Piper smiled sadly.

"Hey, Hotch," JJ called as he walked in. "We’ve been looking at the medical records and there’s a possibility he wasn’t admitted at all. More than half of these people were admitted by a parent or sibling and at least 70% against their will."

"You know what bugs me?" Piper tapped her marker on her chin. "Snapping a person’s neck is theoretically the most efficient way to kill someone, but you’d have to incredible strong to do it."

"What do you mean?" Hotch looked over at her.

"To break a person's neck fatally in theory would involve swift flexion and extension with rotation, whilst neck muscles are relaxed and with ridiculous force." She got up and stood behind him. She gently placed her hands underneath her ear, her rings cold against his skin. "If you twist someone’s neck," as she proceeded to demonstrate, "their body moves with the head." She let go. "The other, unlikelier option is he faced them." Piper moved in front of him. "The unsub could have placed the bottom of his palm under his chin, like so," she demonstrated, "and shoved upwards. We’re looking for someone strong, possibly with some form of physical training. He’s efficient," she said. "even if the patients all relapsed during their release and were homeless at the same time, none of them have the clinical efficiency of the killer."

^-^

"Just got back from the local homeless shelter. The administrator hasn't noticed anyone new displaying aggressive behaviour," Reid informed Hotch.

"I just talked to Gideon and Morgan. They think that he's killing to protect some makeshift shelter of his own."

"So are we ready for a profile yet?" Emily looked to her boss.

"We’re missing something," Hotch ruminated. "How did this homeless man learn to kill so efficiently?"

"You know what we need?"

"We need to get lucky. We need him to make a mistake," Hotch murmured to them.

"So what, we just let him keep killing until he does something out of character?" Reid questioned before walking off outside.

"Hey, Hotch," Piper popped her head out the door. "Should we check places that provide military skills?"

"Emily can do that, I need you to do something for me. Personal favour," he explained. As Emily left to the break room, Piper walked up to Hotch. "I need you to check on Reid. Something’s up and I think he’ll talk to you." He started to follow Emily.

"Boss," she stopped him. "I can’t promise to tell you if he does say something." The young woman left to comfort her friend.

^-^

She found Spencer sitting on a bench outside and plopped down next to him. She waited quietly for a few minutes before starting. "Did you know different drugs and substances will have different withdrawal symptoms and timelines, depending on how they interact with the brain and body? Drugs are absorbed and remain active in the body for differing amounts of time. It’s referred to as the drug’s 'half-life.’ It, uh, relates to the different withdrawal timelines for each substance."

"I’m fine."

"Let me finish. With prescription opiates, withdrawal starts in 8-12 hours, peak in 12-48 hours, and lasts 5-10 days. You think I haven’t dealt with addicts before?" She made eye contact with her colleague, in pain at being unable to help. "The irritability, lateness, the itching, the odds that you haven’t slept since I got you back." Spencer sighed. "I’m sorry. I don’t want to yell at you Spence, but I want you to talk to me." He looked at her.

"I didn’t want to be-"

"Babied? It’s better than having a friend think you hate her."

"Hotch wouldn’t have let me back on if he knew."

"Tell me something." Piper touched his shoulder gently. "How long have you been clean?"

"Since the incident," he murmured.

"I want to help Spence, but only if you let me. And it’s fine if you don’t want it. Plus, if you think Hotch is never gonna find out, you’re not as brilliant as I thought you were. Just promise me you will get some help." She kissed him on the cheek and held her hand out.

"What are we doing?"

"We’re walking to the coffee shop there and getting a round for everyone. You’re going to give Emily one and say you’re sorry, that you haven’t slept well. And then, when the case is over, you’re coming over to my place and we are going to watch reruns of Doctor Who. Sound good?" He smiled weakly and took it.

^-^

"Please help my daddy!" JJ heard the young girl scream and flitted over to see the father with blood streaming from his nose.

"Can I get some help here, please?" JJ yelled over to the officers.

"Please... Call my house to come get my daughter. Please."

^-^

Emily and Hotch sat next to the little girl, Bishop leaning against the wall in the corner listening intently.

"Maria, esta bien," Emily consoled her.

"Is my papa gonna be ok?" She looked at Hotch hopefully as she asked in a small voice.

"Yes," answered Hotch, hands folded, elbows resting on his knees.

"Maria, could you answer a few questions for us?" The little girl looked up at Emily. "It would really help us find the bad guy." She nodded ever so slightly.

"Did he say anything to your papa?"

"No," she answered faintly.

"What were you and your papa doing before the bad guy came?"

"Papa took out the garbage. And then he jumped out... And he hit my papa. I was screaming at him. I thought he was gonna hit me, too. But then he stopped... And he looked at me funny." Piper moved, interested.

"Did he look sad, Maria?" She nodded at Piper.

"He did say something. Not to my papa, to me," Maria remembered. "He said, ’Are you ok? Why are you crying?' And then we ran." Piper looked at Hotch. She nodded to him and rushed to the others.

^-^

"We’re looking for a tall, white, married man, probably with or working around children in which case he has a home but won’t go," Piper mused.

"Why?" Spencer looked at her.

"Could be amnesia, linked to head trauma."

"Hospital records?"

"For this level of amnesia?"

"Stroke, brain inflammation, respiratory distress, Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome, tumours, degenerative brain diseases and seizures."

"Too many and some of them are too common, what about dissociative psychogenic amnesia?" Piper noted. "It’d affect him sporadically, but if he’s constantly around a trigger reminding him of an event that caused emotional shock or trauma, he could react-" She stopped as Spencer smushed her lips with her finger.

"Listen." She pulled it away. They listened to the banging and crashing of rubble and bricks "The construction work," he discerned.

"What does that sound like to you if you had amnesia?" Before Spencer could answer, JJ entered.

"Garcia’s on the line for us," she announced.

"Thank god, I was about to kill myself after listening to their IQs," Emily sighed in relief. Piper scowled and narrowed her eyes.

"All right, cowgirls and boys. I've got the comparison satellite images of the before and after pictures, and I found something. Check it."

They leaned over Piper and Hotch’s shoulder to observe the screen.

"Do you see it yet?"

"Yeah, the SOS," Hotch pointed.

"Oh, I’m so thick," Piper walked away, slamming her palm against her head. "How did I not see it?"

"Huh?"

"The SOS, the chaos outside, the amnesia, his efficiency, we need to be looking for a war veteran."

^-^

"He thinks he’s in a war zone."

"The constant drilling sounds like gunfire. It’s an auditory trigger," Piper piped up from behind Hotch.

"The quick strikes are consistent with trained military," Morgan connected from the phone. "He believes he’s eliminating enemy soldiers."

"He must have served in a place that looked or sounded like this ward. He may not even be aware he’s killing innocents."

"Now, how’s that?" The detective asked.

"When soldiers suffered from anxiety, depression, and flashbacks in World War I, it was called shell shock," explained the ex-history teacher. "In World War II, it was referred to as battle fatigue. Now we refer to it as PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, a side effect of which is slipping into dissociative states."

"The mind divorces itself from reality so it can cope with the trauma," Reid continued.

"He’s reliving a memory. He's trapped in his head in some war zone, hiding and defending himself from the enemy," Gideon considered.

"We should check missing persons reports, JJ," Hotch announced. "It would have been filed recently, the last 2 or 3 days."

^-^

"Why do you keep doing that?" Emily looked at Piper refilling her cup of tea.

"Doing what?" She leant down to grab the container of sugar.

"Back in there, when you figured out he was a war vet. You called yourself thick."

Piper twirled the spoon in her TARDIS mug. "Umm, I get, like, this inner voice. It just keeps um…second guessing me. Don’t you feel it?"

"What, a voice? No," the young woman replied.

"That’s not what I meant. I was talking about the… uh, doubts." She glanced at the room. "It wasn’t as loud before this job."

"What’s it say?" Piper made eye contact.

"That I’m never going to be fast enough." She forced a smile and walked away.

"Piper, Dana Woodridge and Max Weston are here," the detective notified.

^-^

The group stood before the two witnesses, the unsub’s wife and best friend. Piper looked at Hotch, unsure of how they were going to break this to them. Unprompted, Dana Woodridge told them how this kind of thing didn’t happen to them. It happened to others, on the news, while they would eat dinner and sit in shock for half a heartbeat before continuing on with their lives. She swiped at her eyes before continuing about her husband being on his way from home, calling her to say, "We need to talk." The poor wife didn’t know what to do when her husband didn’t come back home that night. Max laid a hand on the shoulder of his best friend’s wife for comfort and continued for her. They talked about how they filed the missing report the next day, how they were both in combat as army rangers, talked about Mogadishu. He looked away as Dana confided in them about her husband’s behavioural tics. "He has a hard time with loud noises," Dana explained. "He can't be in crowds. He has nightmares and wakes up in cold sweats. The smells are the worst. If he smells something burning, Like a barbecue or gas or fire... He gets sick. It really only got bad about a year ago." Max walked out after Gideon’s intense stare regarding the events in Somalia.

^-^

"Roy and I... We were escorting a UN Aid caravan to a refugee camp. Our convoy was ambushed. The front received heavy fire, but we were in the rear, So we managed to escape. We hid for 2 days in and out of abandoned buildings that. Insurgents were looking for us. One night I was sleeping, Roy kept watch. When I woke up, there was an AK 47 pointed right at me. A child. He, he didn’t know. Couldn’t have been more than 11 or 12."

"Then what happened?" Gideon asked him.

"We finally found a radio. Fixed it, called for an extraction."

"Did you put out an S. O. S.?"

"Yeah, we used rocks to put an SOS in the dirt so the Blackhawks could locate us. Look, If this is Roy, you're not gonna find him. He's trained and skilled at survival. He knows how to hide."

"We think he has a gun."

"Well, he doesn't miss."

^-^

"Spence, what are you working on?" Piper asked the doctor poring over his prized map.

"3 days ago, police shut down the freeway at 5 pm for 10 minutes. Cars were stalled and Roy must have tried to exit on the surface streets. Sadly, he ended up in an unfamiliar area with a flat tire. He was changing that tire when an 8 story building on market imploded 5 blocks away. He heard the explosion and reacted like a mortar bomb had landed nearby."

"This explosion must have triggered his dissociation," she nodded.

"And since then, he's been stuck in that state. Running when he needed to, sleeping when he could, camouflaging himself into his surroundings, and hiding from his perceived enemies."

"He’s relieving the worst moment of his life. He's gotta be terrified," she shivered a little as she spoke. Sipping on her cup of tea, she watched Spencer answer his phone.

"Yeah, what do you have?"

"Why isn't Derek answering his phone?"

"He’s probably stuck underground somewhere."

"Underground?"

"I’ll explain later."

"Oh, okay, so, I finally got through all those recent police reports he asked me to check, which, by the way, it was no hopscotch through the park, because that precinct you are at is kind of tragically behind on their paperwork."

"Yeah, they're undermanned."

"Oh, Jeez, really? I can't imagine what that feels like. Oh, no, wait. Yes, I can, 'cause…" Piper sensed her going off topic and swiped the phone from Spencer’s ear, putting Garcia on speaker.

"The point, flower assassin?"

"Okay, okay, I’m sorry. He told me to look for anything unusual, And it's all usual. Minor break-ins, apartment burglaries, Televisions, stereos, car thefts, and smash and grabs. Common stuff in the world of burgling."

"Nothing a guy lost in the streets might use for survival?"

"No, nothing reported. Like I said, it's all petty. There’s…um…some vandalism at construction sites. Communications radio missing from one of them."

"Wait… Did you say radio?" Reid did that thing where his neurons fired and he came up with something brilliant.

"Yeah. Construction Foreman reported that one of their Trucks had been broken into and a hand Held radio was stolen. Yesterday, 12 hours ago, is that what you're looking for? Reid?" He’d already turned the phone off and ran to find Hotch.

^-^

Roy Woodridge is 6 foot 1, 195 pounds and 44 years old. He has brown hair and was a former army ranger. It was imperative they didn't try to apprehend him alone. He wouldn't understand what was happening. He may try to defend himself. Piper heard Gideon’s voice as she sat cross legged on her perch next to the coffee machine. He's armed, and he's an excellent marksman. He had a nest of sorts right near every murder scene. Piper tapped her paper cup absently. There was a burglary of a two-way radio from a construction site recently, which could have been Roy since they’d only used UHF radios in the army back then. She faintly heard Gideon say that Roy was looking for help, that he'll keep trying to contact operations command. Her head snapped up at Hotch’s next instructions."Detective, can we get a dozen UHF radios set up in this room, and each of them tuned to each of the preset channel frequencies?" With the help of Roy’s best friend, they’d established that they needed to be very careful with the communication. The two friends had set up specific responses to contact OpCom in order to avoid hostile interception and establish 'no danger' signals, with specific names to identify their squad to the operator. She reminded herself of this like a mantra, going step by step through their profile, as they rushed to the SUVs, wearing her navy Kevlar vest. They would find him. He’d be safe. He’d get help. No-one would get hurt. She rubbed the silver ring on her finger as they drove to the construction site. They would save him.

She hopped out of the vehicle with the others, hand resting on the Glock hooked to her waist. There was no need for discussion. Hotch stood just in front of Piper, Gideon in the front and Derek on the side. It was a silent agreement that Gideon and Max would calm him down, Piper would only step in if absolutely necessary. She was fine with that. They were backed up by a SWAT team and three snipers. The disheveled army ranger stepped out from the crumbling building in front of them. He’d stepped out with a pistol in his hand, relief in his eyes. The construction worker a few feet away from them started drilling and the next few events were a blur, the only thing certain being Piper’s drumming heartbeat. Gideon yelled at the workers to stop. Roy’s vision blurred. Piper heard squeaking, and a young boy cycled towards them. The ranger whirled back. He yelled for him to get out. "It’s just a boy Sergeant, it’s just a boy." Roy’s brown eyes glanced back between the armed and the innocent. Before Piper could utter a word, the ranger turned and started running for the boy, Morgan sprinting after him. Piper followed, blood pounding. Before her eyes, the unsub fell to the ground, a bullet ripping through his back, and she ran faster.

"Roy!" she yelled. No, no, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She slowly turned his body to face her. Blood dribbled across his cheek.

"It wasn’t safe." Piper felt tears stinging her eyes.

"I know." The dying man glanced towards his best friend. Piper felt warmth trickle across her palm.

"Is the boy alright?"

"Yes, Sergeant," Piper replied. A tear lingered under her cheek. "Relax." She felt the man go limp in her arms, a strong hand on her shoulder. She faintly heard Hotch calling the guys at the station, but still she didn’t move, her hands still grasping his arms, her watery gaze locked on the sergeant’s glassy eyes.

^-^

Piper was remarkable at compartmentalising. She’d kept her job as a counsellor, despite her mother’s death. She’d kept at her Ph.D’s despite her father’s disbelief. She’d taught young children, despite volunteering at a hospital where a kid died every week. But this was different. She was afraid to blink, never mind close her eyes, lest she saw that broken man’s glassy eyes. Roy Woodbridge, a name she hadn’t even heard of until this week, had locked onto her gaze, the last face he would see. Was it fair? It should have been Max, or Dana. Then he would’ve been at peace to say the least. She gazed at the building as she sat on the green bench, breaking her gaze only to see the dark SUV in front of her. "I expected you 15 minutes ago."

"Mustn’t be that good a profiler then." Hotch took the seat next to her. "Construction’s taking the rest of the day off to honour the victims."

"You know, the first recorded war was 2700 B.C. Mesopotamia. Probably were earlier wars, but... Writing hadn't been invented yet. Almost 5,000 years of killing each other," Piper scoffed, looking at her fingers.

"One thing human beings have been consistently good at," Hotch noted. "We did everything we could for him, you know."

"Sometimes knowing that just isn't good enough."

"I know."

^-^

"If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace," Thomas Paine.

^-^

Piper was wearing her Harvard sweatshirt and laid out ice cream on her coffee table. Cushions? Check. Ice cream? Check. Comfy clothes? Check. Hot chocolate? Check. The doorbell rang and Piper ushered Spencer in. “Which doctor?”

“Figured we’d start with 4. Your favourite.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #bau #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #gideon #jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #bau x oc

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mingisblackgf · 4 years

Text

i’ll be your babygirl (part one)

pairing: chan x fem!reader

genre: youtubers!au; smut, fluff, crack

warnings: none, just a buncha teasing fun

summary: in which one of 10 pretty princesses accidentally gets her nudes leaked and just the wrong someone gets his naughty little hands on them.

I could have shit myself.

I know, not exactly a beautiful image to begin the demise of my reputation forever, but it was true.

Was I that stupid?

It’s my fault. I know it is. I just had to be friendly. I just had to be friends with the idiots due to our similar careers when absolutely none of the other girls were.

“Bea, help me! What the fuck are you doing? You’re killing me here, literally.” Charlene screamed, smashing the keyboard with all her might.

I contemplated getting up and running out of the room and moving on a mountain. Also, Charlene was a bit violent when it came to video games. She’d probably punch me later.

“Fucking shit I’m an idiot!” I yell out, throwing off my microphone and bursting from my chair. It looked like I saw a spider or something, but no. It was the extended responses from those Stray Kids dudes.

Every single one of them replied fast. And with a more interesting response than the next.

Every. Single. One.

“What?” Bayou sputters.

“You kidding me? You made us through the game, now the homeless kid losers are gonna take it over us. Again. Fuck.” Victoria was another one that got overly competitive. Not that it was bad, I mean, female gamers need a fighting spirit to override the idiots.

Those guys. That I just sent my naked body to.

“We literally not uploading that.” Marie-Caroline commented, shaking her head.

“Agreed. Sad. I thought we had a chance, I was kicking Hyunjin’s ass in the first round.” Sophie added, getting up from the desktop.

I could have rolled my eyes at the sass of those two, but I was too busy contemplating how my life was ending.

“Beatrix!” Alex yelled to me, grabbing my shoulders and shook me out of the trance I was in. “What the hell has gotten into you? Let’s talk.” She sits me down then, in my chair, and suddenly in our den I felt surrounded like a tiger in a den full of lions.

There were 10 chairs of course, full of self-entitled princesses from all different walks of life: Alexandra, Sophie, Charlene, Aurora, Marie-Caroline, Bayou, Victoria, Masako, Lily and me, Beatrix, or Bea.

It was strictly ironic that we all had names of old princesses, emperesses, and even princesses’ palace pet (in Bayou and Lily’s case) and went to school together, all dropped out at once to be Youtubers.

We played video games, ate and slept all day everyday.

We didn’t do much “lady-ish” things besides cooking or I don’t know, painting our fingernails? Shopping?

Point is we made a living of some sort off this “princess” thing on the YouTube thing. Despite how shitty it is, we have about 3.5 million subscribers. Adsense is good. We’re living good. I mean, it has to be good with 10 girls in a house together.

Damsels In a Dress indicates we always wear dresses when were play some game, like League of Legends or Fortnite. Maybe Call of Duty. Depends on the mood really.

The reason why I’m telling you that definitely sets the scene for how intimidating my friends looked, surrounding me along with the desktop computers and laptops, mics, empty soda cans and junk (Bayou was good at that cleaning stuff) with paused League game play.

And how they were going to totally freak when I told them I was going to be totally blackmailed by what the website saw as “enemies.”

And that I’m shitting myself.

“H-happened? Nothing happened? I just, lost focus, that’s all.” I laughed nervously, twisting my upper body to prove the point. Of course I was lying. How could I tell the fucking truth? Say I sent my nudes I meant to send them to our fake arch rivals?

I’m gonna get my ass handed to me on a silver platter! Victoria’s going to beat my ass! Sidenote: I’m not actually scared of Vicki, she’s just a tough ass bitch. Anyway.

“Beatrix Rose Santiago. What. The. Fuck. Happened.” Victoria gritted through her teeth. See, she knew exactly how to break me.

“IaccidentallyAirdroppedthenudesImeanttosendyouguystoStrayKidsgroupchatandtheyallsawandrespondedtoit! Wow. I just got so hungry. What a mouthful, can we eat, we should eat!”

“What.” Marie-Caroline started.

“No.” Lily couldn’t believe it.

“You actually didn’t.” Sophie’s jaw dropped.

“Bea!” Marie whined like a wet baby.

Looks like they understood me.

Victoria flew from her seat and grabbed the phone from my hand, a phone I was dreading to light up.

“Vicki!” I cried, wanting to die.

“No, we’re surveying this group chat! We’re reading it!”

It kept lighting up on it’s own.

They kept texting me.

Stray Kids.

Probably making fun of me.

I’m screwed.

Vicki flew back to her seat and started reading the text messages out, everyone crowding around her like a bee to honey.

seungmininthebuilding: BEATRIX? more like BEA-TITS! hahhhhhhhh…

changbean: I should stop looking at that… but how did those tits get so…

hyunjinishere: we got ourself a prize here, the “accidental nude” is such good headline! You’re toast, darling! Don’t tell your friends~

yourhoeminho: you done goofed bea-bitch

feeeelix: it’s child pornography, the cops are on their way.

Individual Text Message:

chanthegoat: I could leak this picture. But I really want it for myself.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what the fuck? Now Chan’s trying to smash!” Masako narrated like a TV host, eating on the edge of her chair chomping on popcorn.

“Oh no he isn’t,” I almost sprinted to where Vicki was sitting, looking over my phone to confirm her words. Sadly. Jesus Christ. He did.

He does? He usually wasn’t the one to be… into girls.

At least that’s what I see in their YouTube videos. Unfortunitely, fans ship us all the time since we’re both against each other but we have similar skill sets and such.

Makes me sick.

“Well, respond!”

pinupprincess: Idk what you mean

chanthegoat: Think about us, we could burn up the second we fuck

pinupprincess: Are you…blackmailing me?

chanthegoat: Is that what you call it?

Shit.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fics #stray kids reactions #stray kids chan

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Captive Chapter 7 : Little Bean (The end)

gifs not mine

_Dean x Reader_

Summary :

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

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***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

***MASTERLIST***

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Serie warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Angst, Flangst fluff, smut.

Words : 5.3 k

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Reader's Pov

I enter the shower and sigh. Sam is right, I have to talk to Dean, today.

I look down at my body and see my secret is showing a little now, when I'm naked. A little, my lower belly just a bit more swollen than it usually is. I take Dean's soap and wash with it, it's the only scent that doesn't make me nauseous lately, even Sam's aftershave is sickening in the morning.

I'm terrified.

I know Dean won't kick me out or whatever, he loves me, I trust him. But I will break his happiness... He doesn't want this, he doesn't need this. He has always been responsible for everything, for Sam, for the world. He doesn't want that burden, and I don’t want this for him. I want to give him peace, I want to take care of him. I want to be his angel.

I quickly clean and get dressed, we have to take the road in half an hour, people are being found literally half eaten in Arkansas.

When I get out of the bathroom, I can't find Dean, he already took our bags.

"Sam, have you seen Dean ?"

"He's waiting in the car" Sam shrugs, putting smoothies in the cooler.

Waiting in the car ?

I enter the garage and my love is indeed behind the wheel, in his beloved car. I open the driver's door and bend on him.

"In a rush baby ?" I smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He just nods.

"You okay ?" I frown when he doesn't return the kiss like he usually does.

"Yeah. Are you ready ?"

I nod sadly and close his door. Then I seat on the backseat behind him and try to catch his eyes, but he doesn’t look at me.

The drive is silent, no, actually it's not, Dean put some loud music, but he doesn't talk, not a word. And it makes me feel like he was unapproachable, like he was not mine at all. And just like that, only a few hours after waking up in his arms, I miss him like when he left me alone in the bunker. I could cry.

Sam sometimes talks about the case but that's it. As the time passes, I start to think, this not just me being addicted to Dean’s smile, something's wrong with him but I can't read his eyes this time, is it sadness or anger ? How am I supposed to talk to him about my pregnancy if he's already mad at me. And I don't even know why...

It's dark, Dean didn't stop at all, he never asked if someone needed to take a break, and I must say my bladder is screaming at me. But I don’t ask anything, I’m too afraid of what he could answer. I try to act as I always do, but he never really reacts to the kiss I drop on his neck now and then.

"I'm hungry Dean, do you at least plan on stopping for food ?" Sam sighs.

"People are dying" Dean grunts with his closed tone.

"Yeah and we will be there in the middle of the night ! So we have time for a break ! What is wrong with you, man ?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, stop asking me what's wrong" he looks at me in the mirror quickly.

By the time we make it to the motel, I'm on the verge of crying. My head hurts, my bladder, but my heart is the worst.

I almost run to the bathroom when I got the key to our room, but Dean doesn’t join right away. Sitting on the bed, I try not to cry. He never made me feel like this, this is worst than being captive.

I can’t talk to him tonight. I’ll wait for the end of this case, maybe he doesn’t even want to be with me anymore. Dean doesn’t do relationship. He told me he loved me when he was dying : maybe he’s just regretting it. Feeling like he had no choice but commitment… No I don’t believe that, I can feel his love, I can hear it in his words, I can feel it in my core… Usually.

He enters our shared room and doesn't even look at me when he takes his jacket off. He's wearing that green Henley that makes me weak, the one I usually touch all the time ; but he's cold, and it's scares me.

Maybe it is because of this morning, he wanted me and I pushed him away... I need him close anyway, so I walk toward him. I don’t know what else to do, so I put a hand on his chest and approach my lips for a kiss. But he flinches.

He finches.

My breath gets stuck on my throat and I look at him in fear. But then he takes my hand and pushes it, and fear turns to terror…

"Don't touch me" he groans, turning his back on me.

I could puke or cry or die right now... What is happening ?

"Dean ?" I swallow hard. "Baby ?"

"Don't call me that..."

"What is happening Dean ? What did I do ?" I half sob already.

He turns around and suddenly he seems so tall, I take a step back.

"I don't know, you tell me" he rasps, his tone is so cold, it’s like he wanted to scare, or even hurt me with words. "What did you do with Sam ?"

"With Sam ? Dean… what do you mean ?" I frown.

"I MEAN !" he yells all of sudden, making me jump and take another step back, my blood runs cold, iced sweat is covering my back. "I CAN'T TOUCH YOU !” He grins with the anger of a crazy man and rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes… I can take you, quickly, from behind, like a fucking dog…” My eyes widen at the bluntness of his words. “But not touching you too much, or with the lights off, so you don't have to look at me, right ?... I'm not allowed to see you, to touch you anymore ! I can grab your ass but not kiss your boobs ? Do you know how it makes me feel Y/n ?” I open my mouth but he doesn’t let me the time to say anything. “What are you ? DISGUSTED WITH ME ?"

I put my two hands on my mouth, so shocked by what he is saying, feeling so guilty for making him feel unwanted.

"Dean..." I try to talk but he is furious now.

"DID YOU CHEAT ON ME ? WITH MY BROTHER !" he yells so loud I'm sure Sam heard from his room.

"NO !" I try but he's not listening.

"You can't do this to me Y/n, I love you too much” his voice breaks on the word love, he seems so vulnerable now. “I'm going crazy... I love you so fucking much ! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME !" he puts his hands on his hair. “I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME !” he grabs the wooden chair next to him and smashes it on the wall.

I flinch in a strangled cry. I hurt him so much. How can I not have seen this. How can he think that I would cheat on him, this is the worst.

“WITH MY FUCKING BROTHER !” the veins on his neck are showing and his eyes are red.

He can't think that... Before he yells again, I cut him.

"STOP DEAN ! LISTEN TO ME ! HOW CAN YOU ACUSE ME OF CHEATING ON YOU !” I realize how much it hurts me while I say it out loud. “Son of a bitch... You SON OF A BITCH !” I punch his chest. “Two weeks ago I was dying because of how much I love you ! I WAS DYING, DEAN ! I never touched your brother... How can you..." I cry, still hitting him. "I will never touch another man, you know that... Tell me you know that, baby... Please."

I come closer but he pushes me again and I burst in tears when I can’t take him in my arms.

"Dean..."

There are tears in his eyes.

"Don't lie to me." he groans low. "Don't touch me... You have a secret, I heard you..." a tear falls on his cheek. "With Sam... You're hiding someth..."

"I'm pregnant" I cut him, defeated. “I’m fucking pregnant, okay ?”

Silence. He stares at me like I had just slap him. I feel my guts make a thousand knots.

"I didn't tell you because this is my fault ! I... I'm the one who told you we don't need protection. I'm the one who fucking messed up ! And now you're gonna hate me..." I cry. "You don't want this, you don't need this... But I... I already love him because it's yours and I'm so sorry Dean... I can... I-I..."

"You're pregnant angel ?" he says, strangled.

I nod, the nickname warming me a little.

He comes close and searches my eyes, but I try to look down. He tries to take me in his arms but I keep on slightly hitting him, drowning in my own tears. So he cups my face with one hand and grabs my wrists with the other to keep me from punching him more. There is something there I can't read, but fear disappeared, how could fear vanish when I tell him that ? He frowns, I don't move, barely daring to breathe. Then he smiles.

"You are pregnant ?... How ?"

"I don't know... Gabriel says true love can do that sometimes..." I shrug and he takes me by the waist.

“I’m an idiot” he shakes his head. “I’m…”

He presses me against him, and I stay still. "You should have told me..." he whispers.

"I was terrified… I’m so sorry baby"

"How could you think I would hate you" he winces.

"How could you think I was cheating on you..." I look down.

"I'm sorry, I love you too much… It makes me stupid, this all new for me. I guess passionately doesn’t suits me so well…" he bends to kiss my lips.

I wrap my arms around him and sob because of the intense fear I just felt, he squeezes me.

"I'm sorry" I say. "I'm so sorry Dean."

"Don't be. Look at me angel." His eyes are so sure, they make all my worry fade. “I love you more than anything. And the truth is… I always loved the idea of being a father, I just thought, in this life…”

He cups my face and I stop crying, feeling his enveloping soul carry the world for me.

"It's going to be complicated, our life... It's not going to be easy everyday... But angel never, ever, think that I don't want this" there, I can read it now, it's adoration : the mysterious expression in his beautiful eyes. "You're making me so happy I can barely believe it !" he cries in a laugh.

Then he kisses me, he invades my mouth and slips his hand under my shirt. He suddenly breaks the kiss.

"Does it show ?" he asks looking down at my stomach ?

"A little..." I pull my shirt off and Dean's eyes widen. “Dean, this is the reason I… I don’t want you to feel unwanted…”

He puts his palm hesitantly on my lower belly and smiles in a way I never seen him.

"How long ?" he whispers still looking at my tiny bump.

"I think this is our middle-of-the-night-impala-sex, baby..." I shrug, not really knowing how I can be so sure, but this is something I feel since I know. "It's a… It’s a boy."

"You already know ?" he puts his forehead on mine.

"Yeah, Gabriel told me when he healed me and brought you back. I'm sorry Dean, that's the only reason I didn't want you to touch my stomach I swear... And my boobs, they just hurt most of the time... But you know I’m yours, right ?"

"I know, angel, I’m sorry…” He stares at his hand on my skin. “A baby boy..." Dean says dreamingly.

"Yes..."

He bends to kiss my lips once again, letting his fingers go through my hair in a soft moan. I cling to him, pressing on his back to keep him close, I let him take away all the fear and sadness.

"Never lie to me again angel" he pleads, his clumsy hands stroking my hair. “Never…”

"Never die again" I answer.

Dean's Pov

I put my keys and the grocery bags on the table and pout, Y/n was supposed to be here when I come back.

"Angel ?" I call.

"Kitchen !"

I smile and rush toward her. I left before she woke up this morning and I miss her so much already.

When I enter the kitchen, my eyes widen. She's in just her panties and bra, her six months baby bump pointing proudly at me, she has done her hair and nails. She's so beautiful.

"Angel, where are the others ?" I worry a little, ready to put my hands to hide her.

"Gone" she smiles, biting her lower lip.

"Oh..." I groan.

She bites in a peace of dark chocolate, making it crack between her teeth.

"Yeah...” she purrs.

She licks her lips and I can imagine how sweet they must be right now. Then she skims the front of her panties…

“And I'm so horny" she grins.

"Are you baby girl ?" I ask very low, knowing how much my deep voice can arouse her.

She licks her lips and wraps her hands around my neck. I put my palms on her belly and hum, but she steals my smile by kissing me passionately, she tastes like chocolate.

She moans in the kiss, making me hard already.

"Dean... touch me" she begs me, taking one of my hands off of her stomach to put it between her legs.

"Wow, angel, you really are horny... Oh ! And wet !"

"Yeah..." she moans when I rub my fingers on her pussy through the fabric. "Yeah Dean..."

I know her body, and my thick fingers rubs between her entrance and her clit, making her moan, I can feel her muscles clench around nothing through the fabric, she’s biting my neck now.

I have to be careful, this is way too hot… I could let myself go and hurt her, or the baby. I’m tall and heavy and big. I’m so afraid of what I could do to that treasure inside of her.

The moment I'm about to offer her to take this to the bedroom, she starts undoing my belt.

"Wow Y/n you act like you haven't seen me in a week" I smile kissing her jaw. "Hormones ?"

"No" she moans squeezing her thighs to keep my hand between her legs. "I just want you..."

She slips her hand on my pants and grabs my cock. I feel myself twitch in her hand and I growl, nibbling at her throat, desperate to throw myself at her. Her thumb strokes the head and she rolls her hips against my hand.

"Let's take it to the bed angel" I pant.

"No..." she whispers, pulling me back with her.

She sits on the table and opens her legs, tugging at my shirt to make me come closer. I kiss her softly, massaging her thighs. She's burning up, damn, she's soaking the table.

"Fuck me Dean" she begs. “Here. Now.”

"Angel..." I try hold back. "Baby, I can't do that..."

She breaks the kiss and looks at me like she was about to break my nose.

"Dean, I love you... And I love you making sweet and tender love to me... You know that ?"

I nod, not really knowing why she's saying that.

"But lately..." she whines. "Dean... you can't be all sweet and tender all the time. I need you to be my lover, but I really need you to be my strong manly warrior… Dean…” she whines. “Fuck me now. Hard."

I swallow hard.

"I don't want to hurt the baby..." I admit.

"I know… I know and I love you for that. But believe me, you won't" she states. "I’m stronger than you think but I will burst in flames and die if you don’t give me what I need, baby. I promise, just don't crush me. But please..." she comes closer to my ear and strokes my cock slowly. "I miss your bruising hands, I miss your teeth and those groans you let out when you don't hold back..." she purrs.

I take a shaky breath and fall on my knees.

The second my head come near to her pussy she stars wiggling. I kiss her where she needs it and graze my teeth on her clit through the soaked fabric. Her hands come to my hair, she grabs what she can and tugs at it to the point of pain, I miss it too, I miss her scratching my back so bad I bleed. I miss the feeling of perfect trust when we switch from rough to tender, and all the other way around.

I moan and push her panties to the side to fest on her freely. I look up but she's hanging her head back and her swollen belly keeps me from seeing her face.

She moans loud, her legs wrap around me.

"Dean !" she cries out when I flatten my tongue.

Her nails are digging in my scalp, she keeps my mouth on her, and my head is spinning. I try not to think about my baby boy in her womb, this is so strange for me, I always fear I could hurt them. But she's right, I have to trust her. She knows exactly what to tell me if I go to far, or to rough.

I grab her thighs and push on her body, to make her lay down on the kitchen table, she gasps. I take her panties down and throw it somewhere in the kitchen. Then I attack her again, using my lips to make her beg, I know she loves my lips so I make her enjoy every part of them... And my tongue. I could come just hearing the plaintive sounds she makes when this is too good for her to take.

This time she comes really quick, her thighs crushing my head when I keep licking her during her high, her voice lost in sacrilegious prayers.

"You okay ?" I ask kissing her thighs and her baby bump.

She nods, wiping her sweaty face with her palms.

I take my jeans down and smile at her devilishly.

"You stop me if I hurt you, or..."

"Yeah, Dean, you won't break me" she says opening her legs. “Please I feel like I was in heat right now… I need you.”

I can't hold back anymore and dig my fingers on the skin of her thighs. Before she can move I enter her in one sharp movement, growling and clenching my teeth. She’s tight and pulsing.

"Fuck, Y/n..." I mutter, almost withdrawing, then slamming back inside her.

"More... Dean baby more..." she pleads.

So I lift her legs above my shoulder and put a knee on the table. My thrusts are ruthless now, her mouth is wide open. My arm grabs the table next to head and she does that thing where she licks the skin of my wrist she can reach, like she was in heat indeed…

When I can't go deeper anymore, she starts making those pornographic noises. And I already feel my balls tighten, but I can't cum now. I bend, careful not to crush her belly, to kiss her lips, and she grabs my ass.

"Angel, this is too good..." I pant.

The kitchen table creaks. She lifts her arms and clutches the edge of it, arching her back. Her walls flutter around me, she's close.

Her voice dies in her throat again, her neck red and her eyes shut. Her legs shake and her hands come to my arms, clinging to it with her nails. She comes hard. Just seeing her like that could make me cum, but the way I'm buried deep inside her, the way she's pulsing around me... I grasp her hips and squeeze hard as I pound three more time inside her, growling, before I cum in a desperate moan, not really caring what sound I make, she loves them all anyway.

It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath. She's stroking my back lovingly, and smiles with a pure expression of bliss on her face.

"See, you didn't hurt me, baby" she says. "I mean, I might not be able to walk for a few days. But it was totally worth it" she laughs, biting her teeth.

"I love you" I say, taking her in my arms.

"I love you more" she snuggles against me.

*******

"I love our baby but he's coming between us" she says when she can't get comfortable on the couch.

"Put you back on me" I suggest.

"But I want to see you" she pouts.

I move a little and she snuggles on my chest on her side, her head on the crook of my neck. She looks up and I can see her mischievous gaze under her eyelashes.

"Don't look at me like that, I just had to tighten the kitchen's table bolt" I smile, kissing her nose. “And you scratched my ass, it hurt when I sit.”

"I was not thinking about that" she puts light kisses on my jaw, slipping her arm under my shirt to touch the creases muscles of my stomach. "We had a lot of long talks about how to act while I'm pregnant, and no, Dean, I'm not staying at home alone while you’re hunting..."

"I know, you made it very clear..." I sigh.

Y/n can't stand being alone at home, and crying my death for two months in my bed didn't help. So, even pregnant, she insists on coming with us on hunts. She doesn't hunt of course, she stays at the motel, doing researches, or just resting. But I know that, soon, hours in the car won't be a good thing for her, and I'll have to just let Sammy, Jack and Cas hunt without me. The truth is I can't be without her either, so I don’t really care.

"We barely spoke about when the little boy arrives" she adds, slightly tickling my stomach unintentionally.

"We said we won't move out, and that Sammy will be the nanny" I smile.

She kisses my jaw and lets her lips linger for a second.

"Yeah" she says. "Mh… You smell so good” I love when she says things like that. She continues. “I just... I don't want to lie to him, and I don't want to raise him as a hunter either."

"I won't ever raised my boy like I was" I say a little too gravely, rubbing her bump protectively.

"No, Dean, don't worry, this is not the plan. But see, from what you told me, lies have hurt your family a lot, Mary being a hunter, the deal with yellow eyes..." she starts and I look down at her with pure love in my eyes.

This is one of those moments when she gives meaning to my life, when she talks with kindness and without judgment, making things clear and honest. Easier.

"I want our son to hold all the cards, to have a choice ; to be able to do informed choices" she speaks clear and calm, searching my eyes.

She makes everything so simple. I can already see our little boy coming back from school and play with Cas’ magic. She always says she is going to be an awful mother because she never knew love or care or normal, and that I’ll have to be that perfect caring father I was for Sammy… Her words. The truth is she’s already an incredible mom.

"I agree" I simply answer. "No lies. Daddy's a hunter and mommy's an angel..."

With that I feel my heart beat faster, I'd never said "Daddy" or imagine someone would call me that... I'm all moved again.

"And you can go to college..." she adds with a soft smile. "You can be anything you want as long as you are careful and wise" she says to her belly.

"I love you so much" I think out loud.

"I love you more."

Reader's Pov

When the soft doorbell rings, people turn toward us. I really love this diner, I don't know why, maybe because it's the first place Dean ever brought me, maybe it's because it's next to home.

Dean takes my waist and leads me to a table, he kisses my temple before he sits in front of me, laughing a little when I grunt sitting down.

"What ? You're son is heavy" I groan.

"Dean" a voice says.

When I turn my head, I recognize her right away. Julia. She doesn't even look at me, her eyes on Dean. I feel a sharp pain in my chest just knowing he has been inside her. Just knowing she thinks about him that way.

"Julia" he says with an awkward smile that makes the pain even worse. "How are you ?"

"I'm fine" she bites her lip and I'm about to kill her. I literally can picture myself smashing her face on the table corner.

"What do you want angel ?" Dean asks me, chasing my violent thoughts away.

Julia turns her eyes to me and I can see them widen a little, it's not like I still can hide my secret baby, I'm seven months now and the little Winchester inside of me seems to be like his dad, maybe even his uncle.

Her face changes utterly, her jaw clenches. I can see Dean was not just a one night stand for her, she actually likes him, she wants him.

"I thought you didn't do relationships..." she grunts.

He seems surprised to hear her voice change. Dean is still oblivious to the effect he has on women. I thought, when we got together, that he would know, being so handsome and having slept with so many women, but he doesn't, really. He barely notices when a woman looks at him most of the time, and I'm the one telling him. That makes him laugh, he says I think they find him attractive because I love him. The truth is I have seen that look so many times. That jealousy, that envy. This is even worse since my baby boy is showing, like he was the proof of some war I won against them, like I had tricked Dean, or won him ; like he was the price of some sick life lottery. They don't understand. He's none of that, he's just the love of my life... I didn't win him, and I certainly didn't trap him.

"I changed my mind" he just states looking at me.

Then he ignores her. I can’t really do that but I try.

“So…” he catches my attention when the heartbroken waitress leaves to order our food. “John ?”

“We are not naming our son after your father Dean” she states stern. “Not happening.”

I smile and shrug.

“Well we are not naming him after yours either” I say and she laughs, nodding.

When she brings my food I look at it, hesitating. She might have spit in it…

*******

I hold my baby in my arms, my eyes on his little form, completely in awe, like I was floating in the clouds with him, Dean being the sun above us. His tiny hand squeezes my finger, his serene face on my chest. Another tear roll on my cheek.

I can’t stop looking between him and Dean, asleep on the chair. My poor baby didn’t sleep for so long, he just passed out a few minutes ago. I can already see so many resemblances between them : his plumb pouting mouth, the shape of his face, even his hands already looks like Dean’s.

A soft sound of wings catches my attention, but I don’t even look up.

“He’s incredible” Gabriel says.

“He looks like Dean” I smile with my eyes wet.

“Yeah, but he took a lot from you believe me. Look at his navel” he says and I push the soft fabric a little to see the perfectly formed belly button.

“He’s going to be tall and strong…” the archangel says. “Can I ?”

I hesitated for a second but the emotion in his golden eyes makes me smile. He puts a hand on my newborn’s forehead and sighs with happiness.

“You have a splendid soul little boy… Angels are watching over you” he whispers.

“Not too much I hope” I grunt, taking him closer again protectively.

“I have a present for you, Y/n” he says. “You’re going to Heaven… When you… In a long time. You’ll be with Dean” he says and I start to cry.

“Thank you” I sob. “For everything…”

“Call me if you need me” he adds, serious, and I nod.

*******

I wake up in a sigh. The room is dark and warm, I can feel Dean pressed against my back, his cock half hard on my ass. He cups my breasts and I yawn.

“Hi angel…” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck.

“Hi love” I giggle when he pinches my nipple.

He pushes my leg a little with his strong thigh and his hand travel from my chest to my bare pussy. His index rubs my clit and I wiggle, getting comfortable.

“Can I ?” he asks and I hum, pushing back on his cock.

He kisses my neck and my cheek, his other hand keeping my chin slightly up.

“Shit baby…” I start to moan when his middle finger enters me.

“You like that ?”

“You know I do. A-another one, please, deeper baby…” I moan and he adds a finger.

Then the door opens slowly and he freezes. I try to stop panting.

A little boy in a batman sleep suit enters, his thumb between his lips.

“Mommy ?” he calls, his big green eyes searching me in the darkness of the room.

“Yeah kitten ?” I try to sound casual.

He pushes his adorable messy blond hair out of his face.

“Where is Daddy ?” he asks with this slight lisp.

“I’m right here little bean, what do you want ?” Dean says close to me ear.

“Cookies…”

“Go ask uncle Sammy, mommy needs me to sleep with her a little more, then I’ll join you and we go out to play ball, okay little bean ?”

“Yeah but uncle Sammy’s sleeping…” he sighs, shrugging like he often does when thinks adults are silly.

“You can wake him up” I answer.

“Reaaaally ?” he jumps.

“Yeah, go ahead, climb on his bed” Dean says with a tender smile.

And the little boy goes running.

“Jude !” Dean calls. “Close the door !”

Dean’s Pov

I enter the library and Jude is drawing on Sammy’s lap. I kiss his head and sit next to him. He pushes me like he always does when he’s focusing on something, but I can see his dimples appear in a satisfied smile. My little bean really is smart, always having ideas and asking questions, he puts all his heart in everything he does. I watch as his cute little tongue appears between his teeth.

“What are you drawing ?” I ask and Sam chuckles.

“I have to draw my favorite super hero for school” he states.

“Batman again ?” I bend my head to look at the sheet.

“Nah…” he shrugs like I was saying something stupid. “Batman doesn’t have superpower ! I’m drawing mommy” he grins.

__________________________________________

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