#Car Clutch Functions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)

Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER

Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish.

He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam.

MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg

You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there

Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse

You: uh oh

Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx

Mo Chroi: writing today?

You: yep. and meeting with my prof

Mo Chroi: what ya got on then

Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie

Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol

You: nope

You: rangers_tee.jpg

You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:

Mo Chroi: thief!! xx

You: youre the one who stole my hair tie

Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg

Mo Chroi: needed a hostage

Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning

Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg

You: you learn quick mo chroi

His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank.

The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.

Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault.

But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.

On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation.

After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day.

Your phone buzzed again.

Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D

You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no

Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.

You: cool

Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?

You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:

You: yeah a few times why

She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away.

When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns.

You flipped over the screen.

Mo Chroi: make it to the office?

You: office.jpg

Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief

Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg

Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx

You: promise xx

Mo Chroi: promise xx

Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back.

Another buzz:

Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.

You: omg lol

You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief.

It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes.

Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last.

You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.

Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight.

Maybe he’ll text you back.

You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked.

Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.

You could go for a run.

Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —

The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

THURSDAY NIGHT

It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about.

You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it.

You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out.

You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.

Mo Chroi: you up?

Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.

Mo Chroi: camels.jpg

You: omg! are those REAL

You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic

You: marlowethecat.jpg

Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big

You: so your mission went okay?

Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?

Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg

You: gotta be number 3

Mo Chroi: how’d you know

You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that

Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you

You: yep

You: you should send me a selfie

There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:

You: if you want to. nbd if not

Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg

You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.

You: you okay? bruise looks nasty

Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad

You: and they shaved you?

Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep

He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright.

FRIDAY MORNING

You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”.

You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.

Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!

You: campus.jpg

You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it

Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx

You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.

When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.

You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture

You: german_poem.jpg

Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word.

You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one

Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will.

Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on

You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.

Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?

You: more like class clown

Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?

You: lecture_hall.jpg

You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier

Mo Chroi: yes maam

Mo Chroi: wait!

You: what

Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in

Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture

Mo Chroi: with accuracy

Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit

You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.

You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.

Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph

You: and all the saints?

Mo Chroi: every one of them xx

Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.

You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.

She answered quickly,

“Hey! Are you on your way?”

“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”

“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”

You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,

“Yes! The more the merrier.”

What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later.

“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”

“Anything for you, bestie.”

She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..

You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.

Mo Chroi: oh fuck no

Mo Chroi: its dog day for training

Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg

You: you dont like dogs?

Mo Chroi: not these

Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back

The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction.

You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more?

You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.

You: did you get bitten?

Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it

Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg

You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it.

You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.

You: youre so damn hot

The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.

He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.

You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face.

“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.

You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You bet,” he said as he took your bags.

“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”

“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”

Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car.

“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”

“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly.

Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.

Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise.

You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?

Captain: Roger

Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case.

After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.

“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers.

“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.”

“They’ll live,” you smiled.

“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”

“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.

“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”

“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically.

Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,

“Yeah, just a week. Why?”

You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,

“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”

“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.

“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”

The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.

“He loves you,” you confessed softly.

“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.

You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended.

The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes.

“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand.

“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.

“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”

“Me, too,” you lied.

Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound.

After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt.

FRIDAY EVENING

Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week.

Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back.

You: thanks for letting me know

Kyle: you bet

You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.

Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern.

You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.

“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”

“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly.

“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes.

“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.

Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat,

“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”

“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped.

Cherise shot back quickly,

“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”

You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,

“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”

Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity.

“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine.

Maybe she was right.

SATURDAY MORNING

You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny.

It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.

Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.

It wasn’t enough, said the heart.

It has to be enough, said the head.

It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul.

You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin.

You sighed and got up to shower.

The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought.

Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.

Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?

You: glad youre ok

You: party starts soon

You: cookies.jpg

You: dessert_table.jpg

Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed

Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot

Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg

You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night

Mo Chroi: ?? no

Mo Chroi: why

Mo Chroi: what did she say

Mo Chroi: thief?

You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk

You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.

You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise.

SATURDAY NIGHT

You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress.

You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.

You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister

You: champagne.jpg

Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief

Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site

Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg

Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise

You: promise

SUNDAY, 0200

You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.

You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg

You: marlowe is mad that i was gone

Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.

Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today

Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg

You: yall look tough

You: whos the one in the middle

Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog

Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late

Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg

Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important

You: ok

SUNDAY, NOON

You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused.

A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.

Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!

Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink

You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you.

Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.

The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”

You: rainy_window.jpg

He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,

“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”

Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg

“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.

“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”

You stopped stirring the soup.

“I miss you, too.”

“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”

“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.

“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”

You sent back silence.

“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”

Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said,

“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”

You: soup.jpg

“Thief. She’s just a friend.”

“I think there’s a song about this actually…”

“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”

The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest.

“Johnny. We can’t…”

“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”

“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You have me, don’t you, thief?”

“Do I?”

It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now.

“Alright, lass.”

The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep.

The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold.

MONDAY MORNING

There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact. You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.

You: bus.jpg

You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.

You: library.jpg

Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.

THURSDAY MORNING

You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.

You: lectureroom2.jpg

You: hope youre okay

FRIDAY MORNING

Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages.

Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him.

Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg

You: thanks for telling me

Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises?? I think thats what he said.

You: tell him i promise

You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.

You: and im sorry.

Kyle: Will do!

You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 07

#guile and guilt #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii

215 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 2 years

Text

he tells me i'm jaded. he says - you love showers so much, why not stand in a rainstorm instead?

rainstorms have a potential to take down tree branches. they're unregulated. they get my clothes wet. in the time of my grandparents, maybe it would be more romantic. it's a drought where i live. the rain that comes down is sullen, yellow with pollution. i bite half my nails off reading about climate predictions. i stand in the shower and shift from one foot to the other, feeling annoyed with myself because i care about all of this, of course, but as a climate scientist i'm functionally useless.

he says - the color is all gone from the world! people used to like bright things. what happened to all of us?

i feel like rich people love minimalism differently. they like to remind others - i don't really need things. they can afford to have-less. they don't need to worry about buying extra; they can just get it later.

my car is silver so in 5 years after paying back the loan i might be able to sell it, if i don't hurt it too bad and if i don't drive it too hard, and if luck is in my corner. it's just a simple sedan, nothing-special. i guess i'm technically borrowing it from the bank. i can't really-decorate my apartment; i don't own it. i am not going to be able to afford a house any time soon. i would love to make my walls a wash of bright color - but i'd lose my deposit.

my clothes are all in neutrals; classic cuts that have very little fuss or personality attached to them. i worry about fast fashion and my finances; i want to be sure that i can wear the shirt in the future without feeling stupid and out-of-touch. the other day i finally tore through a pair of shorts i've had for about ten years now. i went home and tried to figure out how to repurpose the denim. how to make everything last a little longer. i sometimes will try on something trendy and cool and colorful - and then i pick out something i know will last me a long time instead. muted, conservative, unimpressive.

he says - the real world is waiting! everyone is so obsessed with their phones these days. go outside, connect with your friends!

it costs twenty dollars to go on the guided tour. they don't let you into the conservatory without a 320 dollar yearly membership. i come up with a spreadsheet, trying to figure out where my friends have schedule openings that overlap with mine. we both frown over our calendars - can't do thursday that week, anything in two weeks? there's no train, it costs forty dollars in transportation for her to come over; but i miss her, so i venmo her. we both bemoan the fact that there's just no way to get around without a car.

i am actually a full-blooded romantic. i am actually someone who truly and deeply believes in hope and the future of humanity. i am a poet, after all - i write because i believe someone out there, like me, is watching the world crumble while nursing a broken heart. i believe that most of us want to be kind, to be good, to turn our cheeks to the sky and be contented and warm.

it just feels like - there's this strange, brewing storm. where people with money and power and prestige get to say - hope is a yacht, just hop on and go.

and all us jaded, horrible little still-here tear-stained cockroaches, who croak and complain about global injustice: we don't accept it. we make our lives beautiful with whatever we can wrestle out of stone. we clutch our diaries and our sunflowers and our songs to our chest. ugly and hurting, we snarl - hope isn't yours though. it's ours.

it's all we have left.

#does this make even a lick of sense.#this is like .#optimistic pessimism idek #warm up

2K notes · View notes

sunxflowerxx · 1 year

Text

I’ll keep you safe (Joel Miller x Reader)

————————————————————————————————————————

Word Count: 1.7k words

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), violence, angst, mentions of unaliving (fake), slight smut near the end

Summary: Y/N believes she’s lost Joel and Ellie forever

My requests are open :)

———————————

The sky above you was dark, the only light from that of the moon and the dimming fire at your side. The cold air of the night was peaceful and silent, but you were still on edge. The silence terrified you - usually you welcomed it in a place like QZ which was always obnoxiously loud, but not here.

You hadn’t attempted to sleep. Fear plagued your mind while out in the open. You felt vulnerable; anyone could sneak up on you, slaughter the three of you in your sleep and no one would even know - someone had to keep watch over Ellie and Joel in case of raiders or infected come along and did just that. Joel said it wasn’t possible, but a deep bubbling anxiety in your stomach plagued your mind with bloody, violent images. You could sleep in the car tomorrow, but right now all that mattered was keeping the only two people you had left in the world alive. You couldn’t lose them.

As stomach churning images continued to fill your head uncontrollably, you clutched your gun even tighter, double checking the concealed knife in your pocket hadn’t magically disappeared in the last five minutes. You hated how your mind worked - if that’s what you could describe it as (sometimes it barley even functioned). You were constantly afraid and full of anxiety and your tried not to let it get to you but tonight, you just couldn’t silence the thoughts gnawing at your brain.

You stared at Joel and Ellie, as they peacefully slept, their soft snores filling the midnight air - somehow Joel still had a brooding frown on his face while asleep. You sometimes wished you could snuggle up next to him, somehow being near him kept your thoughts at bay - you felt safe around him and you couldn’t explain why. He just gave off a “I would die and kill for you” kind of persona and that put your mind at rest (sometimes).

Click

Your ears picked up at the sudden sound from behind you… it couldn’t be a clicker not this far out… surely not. You shot up from your position on the grass and turned to were the noise was… nothing. Just darkness. You sighed, shaking your head and sat back down. Your mind was playing tricks on you again you told yourself but something told you that you were wrong. A deep gut feeling clawed away at your sanity. What if something was really out there?

Click click click

Silence

Click click click

Silence

Click click click

The hairs on your neck stood to attention, not from the cold this time. Something was right behind you and it was getting closer with every dying second. You couldn’t risk waking Joel and Ellie, if it was clickers the sound of your voice would alert them.

You turned your neck as slowly as you could to be met with a sight of your greatest fears. A swarm of clickers surrounded you as they slowly stumbled around. How had they even got here. You held your breath, watching as they moved slowly, slowly towards you.

“Hmph” Joel sighed in his sleep

Shit

The clickers craned their heads in your direction as they sprinted towards you as one unit. You aimed your gun and fired again and again. There was dozens of them, taking them all on your own was a death sentence you did not wish for. “JOEL, ELLIE! TIME TO WAKE UP!” You screamed - there was no point being silent, the game was up, the clickers had taken aim at their target which just so happened to be you. You looked to your side briefly… Joel and Ellie were still sleeping soundly… what the fuck…

You aimed your gun again and took down another clicker but your attempts were futile and they already had you surrounded. Your head met with the grass below you and you felt your body being torn apart. Skin and hair ripped away from your body as they took feast on you. Your blood curdling screams filled the night air as white hot pain seared through your body.

You turned to your left to see Joel and Ellie to be met with the same fate. You had failed. You were useless. YOU are the reason they are dead - you. It was all your fault. And now you took the cowards way out. You wouldn’t allow yourself to become one of them so you pulled the knife out your pocket and raised it to your throat - “I’m sorry.” You breathed out, still looking to Joel and Ellie and dragged the blade across.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Shouting filled your ears as you jerked yourself up. Your heart was racing, beating so fast it nearly exploded out your chest. Panic had consumed you, taking control over your thoughts and movements.

“Y/N breathe, come on, breathe for me!” Your eyes met with Joel’s anxious ones, as you grabbed onto him, shaking out of pure fear. “Y/N you have to breathe for me okay!” Air filled your lungs as sweat beaded across your forehead and laced your body… it was freezing why were you dripping in sweat. Your body was on fire which made you panic more as your eyes darted around not focusing on one specific thing.

Focus… focus… breathe

5 things you can see

Joel, Ellie, Trees, Van, Moon

Out

4 things you can feel/touch

Joel, Sleeping bag, grass, knife

Out

3 things you can hear

Crackling of the fire, Joel shouting, Ellie also shouting

Out

2 things you can smell

Fire, Joel

Out

1 think you can taste

Fear

Out

Your heart beat slowed and the heat radiating from your body had calmed. “Are we dead?” You mumbled, struggling to find your voice after screaming.

“No, but you nearly knocked my head off with al your kicking and punching, what the hell is going on Y/N?”

You gripped him harder as tears threatened to fall, “This isn’t real, I’m dead, this is a dream. I watched you die… You were ripped to shreds by a clicker… We all were…” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry!”

Joel pulled you into his arms, rubbing small circles into your back, “You’ve had a nightmare darlin’ a pretty fucking scary one too it seems.”

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or saying goodnight to either Ellie or Joel that night. You began to doubt what was real and what was fake. “It felt so real Joel, I saw you and Ellie die… I felt it…”

“Going to take more than a clicker to get rid of me.” Ellie smirked, trying to lighten the mood

“Do we look alive to you?” Joel asked. You nodded but you were still uncertain. He gripped your balled hand and straightened out your fingers. He unzipped his jacket and unbuttoned his flannel, placing your palm on his warm, bare chest. You could feel his heart beat under your palm. You closed your eyes taking it in.

Dun

“Do I feel alive to you?” He asked brushing your tears away

“Yes…” you mumbled. Now you were embarrassed. You had woke both Ellie and Joel because of your stupid pathetic nightmare, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Joel hugged you again. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay, I thought you were getting murdered when I heard you scream. Come on, let’s try get some sleep darlin’.”

“Yeah you look terrible, the bags under your eyes are huge, could carry your backpack contents in them,” Ellie laughed. You let out a small snort, you could always count on her to lighten the mood. Joel did not find it amusing as you, “Bed Ellie!”

She groaned but didn’t protest, she too looked exhausted.

“You’re too hard on her.” You mumbled into his arms.

“I can’t protect her or keep her safe if she’s exhausted Y/N. And the same goes for you. I need you to try get some sleep.” He stated, running a comforting hand through your hair.

“Can I sleep in your sleeping bag… with you…” you asked pulling away.

He frowned.

Oh shit you fucked up, he was only comforting you because it was the nice thing to do, “I don’t mean it like that… I mean…” you stumbled, trying to get the correct words out but everything sounded wrong when the words bounced off your lips, “I’d feel safer knowing you were there… not that I feel safe near you… no that’s not what I’m trying to say, I do feel safe around you-“

You felt Joel’s lips on yours cutting off your rambling, nonsense of a sentence. Your eyes widened for a second, shocked he’d even done that…

Was this an attempt to just shut you up or did he like you…?

You didn’t care for his reasoning, and turned your brain volume down for one second and welcomed the kiss. He licked your bottom lip, requesting entrance, which you denied, teasing. His hands were all over you, exploring your body. His hand grazed up your side as one squeezed your breast and the other your ass. You yelped into his lips, at the sudden sensation running through your body which Joel took as his chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands fisted at his hair, tugging lightly. “Ew get a room you two.” Ellie grumbled at your side. You and Joel pulled away from each other abruptly, forgetting the fourteen year old in your company.

Your face flushed red with embarrassment and you hid your face in the crook of Joel’s neck. Filthy thoughts filled your head with what could have happened if Ellie wasn’t there. Joel let out a small laugh.

“You sure know how to shut a lady up.” You smirked, as the memory of what just happened replayed in your head. He chuckled again. God that was a sound you could get used to. “Come on, get in my sleeping bag.” He kissed the top of your head, “I’ll keep you safe sweetheart.”

#joel miller #tlou series #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #joel x reader #ellie tlou #joel and ellie #joel the last of us #joel tlou #ellie the last of us #fantic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #romance

444 notes · View notes

anki-of-beleriand · 4 months

Text

Bad Liar ch. 15

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: They needed to find a way out, but it turned out to be a deathly way to deal with the current confrontation.

This chapter was really hard to write because I didn't want to focuse too much on the violence but I did want to put the tension around everyone. They are not agents or people with superpowers, so perhaps their reactions is tied up to what they had seen in movies and who they are more so that because of that expertise. Guys, we are almost there!!! Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 15

Five minutes to midnight

You let out a groan, your body weighted you down and the world in front of your eyes was spinning out of control. You opened your mouth, but no sound came, only the ragged breathing that created a piercing pain on your chest.

Wanda

Her name came into mind, and soon after panic rose in your mind. You needed to move, and fast, Wanda was outside and she was in danger. With great effort you tried to sit up, pain clutch at your arm and the office spiralled in front of your eyes. You held your head, taking a deep breath that made you open your mouth in discomfort.

You tried to evaluate the damage, your legs were left mostly unharmed, but your midsection, your arms and your head had been harmed quite badly. You grimaced trying to stand up holding onto the table, your eyes closed for a moment before you found the broken mobile on the far corner. Staggering towards the place, you let out a cry when you tried to grab the mobile. The screen had been crushed, and the normal functions of the phone were not available for you.

“Tony.” You rasped out, “Friday call Tony.”

The mobile flickered, the sound was not good and suddenly it just turned off. You dropped the article turning around, it would be up to you to get help. You dragged yourself to the door, each step a painful reminder of the fight you held with the man.

Your hand lifted to the panel to call for the elevator. You waited, taking slow breaths, trying to hold onto your sanity while thinking about Wanda. About your family.

“Y/N!!!!”

You let out a whimper, turning around fast made you crash against the wall. your eyes went wide, and relief soon filled your expression when you noticed Maria coming towards you with the security detail of the building and Nick Fury.

“Maria, Wanda…” you started watching as everyone started checking the floor, Fury held you up with Maria cupping your face, completely pale and trembling.

“Wanda…you didn't tell me…” you groaned trying to glare at the woman, but Maria shook her head.

“I wasn't supposed to, Y/N. Natasha made me promise, it was to make sure Wanda's secret was safe…”

You shook your head glaring at Maria and Fury, “if anything happens to her…”

You groaned again, tears coming out of your eyes, Maria’s lip quivered while putting your face in her hands.

“I'm sorry, they already sent a search and capture warrant with Wanda's car description and plates.” Maria tried to soothe your worries; Fury nodded to the lift where a pair of paramedics came in ready to assist you.

“America, Billy and Tommy…”

“I sent someone over there, everything is being taken care of.” Fury placed you on the floor slowly, the stern glance firmly in place.

“He said something to you, anything else that may help us in our search?”

You shook your head letting the paramedics do their job, you tried to wrap your mind in what was happening, the officials and security looking around the place.

“I just wished you had told me…” You mumbled tiredly; your attention turned to the two men attending to your wounds. “How bad is it?”

“I think we need to take you to the hospital,” one of them started checking the bruises and the general stated you were in, “some bones may be broken but we cannot be certain unless we take some x-rays or…”

“No, I need…I need a computer.” You replied shaking your head, lifting your face to see Maria there, “call Tony.”

“Y/N I think…” Fury started but your eyes shot a heated glare towards the man.

“My family is in danger, Fury.” You motioned to the paramedics so they could help you up, “you need help, and right now Tony and I are your best hope, you got us into this mess, you better pray to God that this ends well…”

Fury held your stare with his sole eye, he pursed his lips tempted to say something against your plan but you were probably right. He nodded curtly, with Maria already making the call to Tony; you let out a breathy cough shivering while motioning to one of the medics to come closer.

“I need something for the pain, but not to leave me out of it, do you have something like that?”

He hesitated glancing at his partner then at you, “we’re not supposed to….”

“Don’t worry, I will take full responsibility, just…give me your best drug I will need it.” You mumbled making your way to the closest lab, you sat down in one of the chairs while turning on the computer.

“There are two patrols driving right now towards your house, they will be there in twenty minutes,” Fury entered the room with you, his eye glancing curiously at the screen, “Tony is coming over, he will be here in ten. What exactly are you doing?”

“This man…I know you guys want him for the deals he is making but, Maria, how bad is it going to be for Wanda? I need to know everything.”

Fury and Maria glanced at one another, you hit the table with your fist glaring at the both of them while pointing to the screen.

“I can hack into her mobile and his, I can put a tracker on them or the car Wanda is using, but I need to know everything! I need to know she is going to be fine! That nothing is going to happen!!”

This last part was said with tears welling up in your eyes, “tell me you don’t think this man is going to hurt Wanda or Billy or Tommy or even America…and I step aside…”

Maria clenched her jaw sitting right beside you turning on another of the computers, “what do you want me to do?”

Fury huffed putting his mobile out and typing really quick before making a phone call, you winced with your eyesight getting blurry every once in a while, but your fingers moving decisively over the keyboard.

________________

Wanda drove in silence, her mind completely blank reflecting what her face was trying to convey. The world passing her through was moving in slow motion, Wanda could not feel anything at all, she was just going through the motions with the weight of Vision's hand on her thigh gripping her tightly to the point she could almost feel the bruises he was leaving on her.

For a brief moment Wanda played with the idea of crashing her car against a tree or a wall. She could actually spot a couple of places that could work for her plan, she knew that whatever happened her boys would be okay. She liked to think that you wouldn't leave them alone and that maybe Natasha would also come forth to help them out. But Vision cut her hopes off when he punched her thigh pressing the barrel of the gun on her ribs.

“Don't even think about it,” Vision spoke in a dangerous whisper, the cold anger sent shivers down Wanda's back, “if we're not there by the time the clock strikes the six, Agatha will make sure our children join us in death.”

“No…” Wanda held her tongue before she could say something else.

She was not surprised that Agatha's name came into play in the conversation. The young woman had known that their neighbour had been playing on Vision’s side from the very beginning. At first, Wanda had fallen for her good-natured smile and the complicity she came by on that first meeting, it took Wanda some time to realise that all her secrets and mistakes were being told to her husband by the very woman she thought was her friend.

Soon, Wanda discovered Agatha enjoyed her suffering while also flirting with Vision and making her children's life impossible. The fact that, at the end of everything, Agatha had come forth to be with Vision in such a predicament was not a surprise at all.

“Yes, Agatha is a good pet, I have to admit that much.” Vision said offhandedly, he turned to Wanda and this time around his hand drew circles on her thigh going up and down until he was grinding Wanda's crotch pressing his knuckles harshly.

“But you, my love, have the most exquisite moans and tears I have ever seen in a woman,” he clenched his jaw when Wanda grimaced holding back her disgust but unable to hide it from his eyes.

Wanda let out a groan when he hit her hard on her thigh, he did it again, and again, and again until Wanda almost lost control of the wheel.

“Look where you are going, my love, or the kids will suffer. Now you are going to take your punishment quietly, like a good wife, are you not?”

“No.” The word came out of nowhere, it left her lips with more strength and conviction to what she actually felt at the moment.

Wanda flickered her glance through the rear mirror, Vision was left dumbstruck never before having heard such a tone of voice, or that strength behind his wife. He was so tempted to hurt her, to teach her…but, he leaned back on the seat if the car chuckling darkly.

“Sooner or later, my love, you will bend to my will.” He cocked his head pointing to the road, “for now, drive faster, we are almost there and I'm dying to see my kids.”

Wanda clenched her fist tightly around the wheel, she tried to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind was screaming in pain, confusion and terror, she was trying desperately to give of a signal to one of the cars moving past her, she was trying to make faces or make sure anyone could see the state Vision was in. But it was as if the world was deaf and blind, for a moment she let go of her thoughts, and soon enough she thought of you.

The panic that had risen inside her went limp for a moment, the memory of your smile and your words almost made her smile. She held onto these memories, while trying to quiet down her worries. She remembered Vision's words, the story of you laying on the floor in a pool made of your own blood.

And now, she was driving to her home begging and hoping that perhaps America had decided to go to her place with the twins or opted to take them out to someplace.

She could only hope, though.

With a heavy heart, and fear she drove down the highway trying to make sure every camera on the road could take a good picture of her and the wounded Vision sitting by her side.

Time, all she needed was time.

__________

Agatha Harness stood by the window, her fingertips caressing the soft texture of the curtains protecting the intimacy of the house. She smiled, the two cops that had parked in front of Wanda's home had finished the inspection on the property talking through their radios before making their way to the car.

She turned around to see America and Kate tied together on the ground while Tommy and Billy had been frozen on the sofa. The little boys were trembling, each one of them wearing the signs of the struggle they tried to put up when they came across the woman.

The ordeal had been far too easy, nor America or Kate knew of her, and by the time the twins were ready to scream she had put the weapon against the Bishop heir. Now, all she had to do was wait.

“I don't suppose your sister keeps the alcohol in the living room, right?” Agatha put a hand on her cheek, her eyes gleaming mischievously at America who was glaring at her. “Yes, I think a house filled with teenagers would make her think twice about the storage of the alcohol.”

America struggled against the ropes on her hands, she lifted her chin in defiance only to be soothed over by the side glance from Kate and the whimpers from Tommy. Agatha rolled her eyes approaching the young teen, her fingers mapping out the features of the young woman.

“You are quite the beauty, Missy, just like your sister,” Agatha lifted a brow walking towards the closest table that held a picture of you and America, “I can see why Wanda fell for her. I have always suspected Wanda was odd, but never imagined she was into women. Tsk, no wonder she could never please Jarvis.”

The woman strolled around the room taking notice of the different objects adorning the living room, the pictures and the technological gadgets, the expensive furniture and the layout of the house. Without a doubt, you had money, and Agatha could appreciate the sleaziness behind Wanda's actions to get you wrapped around her finger. Too bad this wouldn't last,at least at the end you would be grateful that her and Jarvis would free you from such an arrogant, and quite dangerous individual.

The mobile she brought with her rang three times, her face lit up picking up the gadget from the table before turning to the twins.

“Well, boys, I hope you are ready because daddy just got here!” She exclaimed happily clapping while rushing to the sofa, she tried to put a hand on Tommy's shoulder but Billy slapped it away.

“Nos, Billy, don't be like that,” the woman slapped Billy under the muffled protests of America and Kate, she glared at the boys before grabbing both of them harshly. “You two will behave, you will go out there and greet your dad and then we will be on our way. There is a long trip waiting for us, and your dad has made a great effort to make this perfect for the family.”

America winced under the biting pressure of the ropes on her hands, she felt the slashes on her wrists and the burning pain running up her arm. To her left, Kate was just breathing with her eyes, the only indicator that she was scared. America felt like an idiot, she knew it was her fault the woman had entered the house that this freaking woman had trapped them in and then dragged them to her house so the police couldn't notice they were missing. Many thoughts were crossing her mind, she was thinking about Wanda that was looking so beautiful that day, with hope and happiness at being on a date with you, she thought about you perhaps back at work ignorant of what was happening. America wished she could do something, but her fight against the binds on her wrist had caused a lot of damage and she couldn't risk anything foolish that would endanger Kate, Billy or Tommy.

Agatha fixed herself pushing the twins forward to the door, she put on a big smile while opening the door. America's breath caught in her throat when her eyes fell on the figure of Wanda Maximoff and Edwin Jarvis. Both of them wore the signs of struggle, blood and bruises covering their bodies but whereas Wanda was scared with her green eyes falling on her children then on America; Jarvis was looking enraged.

“Jarvis!! What happened to you?” The other woman ran to her lover, but the man dismissed her pushing her and Wanda away to greet his children.

“Billy, Tommy, my boys,” he opened his arms waiting for the greeting of her children, his expression changing into one of anger when the boys didn't move from the spot, if anything their eyes went wide open sending glances to Wanda.

“Is this the way I teach you to greet me, boys?” Jarvis never lifted his voice, he spoke calmly, softly with a hint of coldness in his voice.

Wanda nodded at the twins, and after a moment of hesitation they came to Jarvis hugging him with trembling hands. Jarvis smirked ruffling their heads harshly making them wince under the pressure.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?”

The man limped inside the house closing the door behind him, he pushed Wanda further into the house before settling his eyes on America and Kate. He raised a brow quite amused at Agatha who smiled back.

“They were in the way.”

“Indeed.” Jarvis sat down on the sofa, his eyes falling on America for a long moment before pointing at Wanda, “now dear come sit here, we need to talk about the future.”

Wanda held back her facial expression, she tried to conceal the disgust she was feeling at the thought of her sitting on Vision's lap. The man path his thigh three times, and Wanda knew she would need to comply or else, this would end up badly. With some reluctance, she stepped forward knowing America and Kate were looking at her shaking their heads while Tommy and Billy cried silently sitting on the chair in front of them.

“Now, dear, we're going to talk about the future and your misdeeds,” the man passed his hand through Wanda's uncovered knee, his eyes gleaming in lust ignoring the open frown from Agatha.

“You see, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he said directing his attention to America, the young woman scowled but said nothing, “I gave everything to my wife, I took her in when no one else loved her, I educated her, dress her, I have her children, a house…and what does she do? She leaves in the middle of the day and takes my children with her. Why? Because she is a bad woman and a bad mother, and she is always defying me and going against my wishes, even though she has been mine since the very first time his father sold her to me.”

Wanda felt her lower lip quivered; the fear she was experimenting soon mixed up with the anger his words were fuelling. The muscles on her arms and shoulders tensed, her fingers twitching trying to form a fist she still didn't dare to throw to the man that had his hand on her thigh. The young woman was trying with all her might to look for a way out, her eyes found those of America and Kate and she regretted the moment she hid the truth from you or rejected the idea of this ever happening. But, what she regretted the most was dragging you and your family into this mess.

Would you still love her if something were to happen to America?

Would you still want Wanda after all of this?

Wanda needed her kids, America and Kate safe, she let her eyes wander around the room before turning to Vision. Nausea raised inside her throat, her heart almost stopping with the shiver of sheer repulsion as she lifted her hand to cup Jarvis face.

The man let her eyes wander back to Wanda, he had not lost his scowl but now there was curiosity in his gestures. He raised a single eyebrow, his lips curling slightly when he spotted the fear and submission in Wanda.

“Are you going to apologize?” He asked Wanda nodded, opening her mouth only to close it again.

The words tangled themselves on her throat, Jarvis snorted lifting his hand only to wrap in around her neck.

“You will have time for that for now I think we need to go.” He grabbed Wanda tightly making her stand up while he did too, letting out a groan of pain.

His face was swelling slowly, while the eye you had hurt was bleeding profusely. Wanda stepped back when he almost fell down, but the man held onto Wanda before straightened up.

“As fun as this has been,” Jarvis turned to America and Kate, “we will leave, I'm sorry about your loss, but surely you understand that when you mess with a taken woman the consequences may be…deathly.”

America opened her eyes, they stinged with unshed tears just as her struggle against the ropes started again. Jarvis smirked when Wanda shook her head, and desperation filled America's face.

“I'm sure you will thank me, once you are able to come upon such a good inheritance.” The man stepped away from Wanda going over to where the twins were sitting, he grasped their clothes pulling them to him harshly making them yelped and Wanda almost went to their rescue. Agatha was right on top of her stopping her before pushing her to the entrance door.

“However, if by any chance, Y/L/N survive then…you may let her know that I make sure to take my wife in body and soul,” Jarvis continued with his rant, “and that the last thing she did before the end was scream my name.”

Kate clenched her jaw trying to hold back her tears, America was still struggling trying to get free to get to her phone. Her mind wrapped around the idea of you being dead or badly wounded without any help.

Jarvis pushed his family to the door, and he was about to close the door when his ears caught the sound of guns getting ready to fire. He turned around only to see five police cars parked on the street cutting off the exit. He snarled, grabbing his own gun and pointing it to Tommy. This time around Wanda did react by hitting Agatha on the face while going to Tommy, she stopped dead in her tracks when Vision pressed the barrel on Tommy's head.

“Are you ready to risk it, dear?”

“Vision, please…take me, just…take me, leave him alone.” Wanda begged, her voice trembling with her eyes wide open.

Tommy started sobbing with Billy gripping his brother wide eyed with tears streaming down his cheeks.

The moment of tension grew amongst them, Vision ready to risk everything to get out of the situation alive. And everything would have ended in tragedy if it wasn't for his phone that started ringing. The man blinked a couple of times confused, he kept the gun pointing to Tommy while also grabbing the phone with a hint of annoyance and curiosity.

His brows got lost on the hairline, with his lips twitching back while the skin around his cheeks tensed. His eyes went quickly to Wanda who was struggling with herself ready to grab her children, Vision huffed, pressing the green button while locking his glance with Wanda.

“I am very surprised to see you survive.” His voice dripped sarcasm, a hint of anger tainting his words.

“I can't say I was left unaffected, but my people were nearby,” you trailed off holding whatever else you wanted to say to the man while fear gripped your heart tightly, “but your failure is not the reason I call you about.”

You winced when Peggy Carter and James Logan glared at you while pointing to the script they had set up for you. The man at the other end of the line chuckled darkly, the scream from Wanda and Tommy almost made you drop the phone.

“I wouldn't call it a failure if you are at the office and I am at your home with them, and your sister.”

You clenched your fists tightly, wincing when the effort tensed the bruises in your body.

“Touché.” You took a deep breath, the words leaving your mouth with a bad taste, “I have a proposal for you.”

This time around Vision was looking extremely interested, he didn't lose sight of the police patrols or the people surrounding the house. He could see everyone waiting for the action while he spoke with you. His eyes soon drifted to Wanda and the kids, before settling in Agatha who had her own weapon tightly grasped on her left hand. He weighed his options, the tension kept growing and he knew any moment now a team of negotiators would arrive to control the situation.

The end of this particular chapter of his life wasn't looking bright, and he hated that he let himself be caught in such a foolish action. He contemplated his options, but your voice soon brought to the table a most suitable deal.

“Kingpin sold you out for a pretty good deal of money you stole from him,” you let out a raspy cough, the pain shooting electric spasm through your body, “you know what will happen, jail would be your grave.”

Vision narrowed his eyes, nodding to Agatha and Wanda to go back inside the house, his hand never wavering while pointing the gun to his son. He frowned, noticing that not since the phone call had anyone done or said anything, no one had dared to even approach him or try to talk him out of the threat. Vision’s mind started working fast through the different possibilities and ways in which he could get out of the situation. Your words had made his blood run cold, a shiver of sheer terror went through him knowing that his previous associate knew of the embezzlement of the money he had done while working for the man.

How did you know him?

Did he really rat Vision out?

“He is a practical man, and I'm a woman of business. Why do you think the police have done nothing to try and take you out and away from my family?”

“Perhaps they are afraid I could keep my promise of putting a bullet in my son's head.” Vision retorted, you sighed in exasperation and the man was really tempted to put the bullet in your forehead.

“You are not an idiot, they won't do anything unless I say so. Money can buy a lot of things, Jarvis.”

Jarvis was starting to feel tired, his head was hurting and his eye was actually killing him. The sight on his right eye was getting blurry and with every minute that passed his body felt heavier and sensitive on his skin.

“And how much does your sister and her girlfriend cost, Y/N?” this time he turned to America who was torn between relief and fear.

“Enough to make an effort and call you back.”

“What about the life of my children and Wanda?”

This time around he could hear the intake of breath on your end, he smirked tilting his head until his eye was mocking Wanda.

“Ah, not that much, I see. Don't worry, I don't blame you, if she did this to me, imagine what she would do to you.”

Wanda was trembling, her arms limped at her sides. She had her eyes on her children, forgetting the tears rolling down her cheeks or the ability to move, her only concern was to get Tommy and Billy out of the situation she was in at the moment. Wanda blinked, turning to Vision wrapping her mind around his words, soon she understood who was behind the line talking to him and her heart almost stopped beating at the relief she felt knowing you were alive. How did they end up in such a mess? How was it possible that Vision had access to you? Or that he had found her and the twins?

So many questions, and Wanda was trying to gather her strength to fight. She could live with the idea of her dying or being taken away by Vision but her children…she had left the man to make sure they could grow in peace. They would have a chance.

Wanda waited with her heart at her throat, and her mind moving through different scenarios while Vision continued talking through the phone.

The room was only filled with the sound of Vision's conversation with you, everyone had their eyes on him waiting. Making time.

Jarvis snarled into the phone, finally giving into his own pain and sitting down. Sweat rolled down his forehead, her hand was trembling while holding the phone against his ear.

“I am a businesswoman, Jarvis, so I have a proposal.”

You took a deep breath; you had rehearsed this speech before but it didn't mean you felt comfortable saying it out loud. Peggy nodded curtly at you; Logan was talking on the other line while Fury was snarling orders to two different teams right outside the van you were in. You waited to hear the laboured breath of the man at the other end of the line, your mind going to your sister, to Wanda, to Kate and the twins. You should have been stronger, you should have hit first and ask questions later, you should have…

A hand placed softly on your shoulder; Tony offered a single smile shaking his head. Your lower lip quivered but the man shook his head placing a hand on his chest before pointing a finger at you. You nodded, turning to face Peggy once more.

“I have resources, I have money…more than you can even imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot.” The man stated before adding, “but right now I am imagining my freedom, and my life…with my family, of course.”

“You don't need the kids, but you need Wanda and Agatha.” You made a face, scrunching up your nose paled and nauseous, “they can be bred and I can get you someone suitable for your tastes.”

Jarvis chuckled darkly, he glanced at Wanda putting his phone out of his ear and putting the conversation on speaker.

“Are you really telling me to leave my children and breed my wife again?” Jarvis smirked when Wanda's expression faltered at those words, “how fast is the affection you held for her.”

“Again, I deal with business, not so much emotions. I needed a good time, and Wanda offered that.” You closed your eyes before continuing, “I have a jet ready, a country without extradition and the means to make you rich, give you a new life and stop Kingpin from torturing you after you decided to steal from him.”

Wanda couldn't help but lowered her eyes at your words, she was confused but she also knew there was something else behind what you were saying. She had to hope, she had to wait. Jarvis shifted on the sofa, for the very first time since this whole mess started he finally took into consideration the woman that had come to him into this mess. Agatha approached him tentatively, her hand brushing his hair away from his face.

“Do you think it is true? Do you think she is offering a good deal?” The woman was not so sure, she had seen you beside Wanda and the twins, you looked pretty much in love with Wanda and this was a little fishy for her, but so far she had let Vision's lead the way and was not about to contradict him.

Jarvis tilted his head glancing with his good eye to the woman, he grabbed her by the hair crashing his lips to hers.

“What is the catch?” Jarvis finally asked and you chuckled.

“Let my sister and Kate Bishop go with the twins, the police are not going to stop you once you leave the house with Wanda and the other woman.” You stated flatly, your eyes burning with rage, “I will be your bargaining chip, they won't dare to hurt me or intervene in any way, and you will have access to my power, my money.”

Everyone in the room went silent, America opened her eyes shaking her head in disbelief with Kate frowning. Wanda felt dizzy, her heart dripping to her feet while she tried to wrap her mind around what you just said. Jarvis weighed his options, his good eye flickered to the kids and the teens, undoubtedly they would be too much dead weight to carry around while trying to get away from the police. Wanda was the easiest option, she and Agatha would obey Jarvis's instructions if necessary while also a great source of amusement for him. Besides, you were offering something equally interesting: yourself.

Could this be a trap? Yes, of course, but Jarvis bet he could play his cards carefully and get away with it. He could get freedom, money, and a new life.

“You have yourself a deal, Y/N but I will put the conditions to ensure I'm not double crossed.”

“Very well, tell me what conditions do you have?”

___________________

No one was speaking, your hand held the kevlar best with your eyes examining the article closely. Fury and Tony waited patiently for you, pursed on your lips telling the two men you were not convinced about using this for the mission. The bulletproof vest was body contoured built to adjust to your torso to offer the best protection, it was a near-fit of military engineering.

Still, you were not convinced.

Jarvis could notice the article, and everything they had been working for could fall down in a second. Besides, Wanda's life depended on you doing your job well.

“I won't do it, Wanda's life is still on the line.” You fault out refused the item putting on your jacket, your eyes glancing from Tony to Fury.

“Y/N, this is a dangerous mission and you're a civilian, you're being sent because…” Fury started for the tenth time, you lifted a single hand shutting him immediately, much to his surprise.

“You got me and my family in this mess while keeping the identity of this maniac a secret.” There was a heavy huff behind your words, your stare hardening as you continued, “don't try to patronise me with this, you messed up and you need me, so I'll do this part my way.”

Fury rolled his sole eye ready to fight when Peggy Carter entered the trailer, her sharp eyes pinning you to the spot.

*Everything is ready, are you sure you don't want the protection?” She asked curtly, you shook your head and after a second of hesitation Peggy nodded.

“Your car is right outside, you have your phone and the tracker and the teams are getting ready.” The older woman hesitated before stepping closer to you, “your sister is doing okay, she is being looked after by Hope and Natasha, the twin and Ms. Bishop is doing fine though a little scared.”

“Thank you for the update.”

“You know the plan?”

You nodded curtly; the older woman smirked her eyes twinkling smartly at you.

“Then, let's move it.”

Jarvis had chosen an abandoned military station in the midst of a forgotten highway. The place had hosted the secret service working against the Nazis back in the 30’s, night was already there the lights of the cars had disappeared almost forty minutes ago while the radio finally gave in to the lack of signal. You drove fast, as fast as the speed limit and your car allowed it, your heart had not stopped beating with a constant thud with your mind going over and over through the plan that you had been subjected to by the authorities.

New year was closed now.

And Camp David was just around the corner.

The place looked empty, the gates had been opened recently and you could see a car parked in the distance the lights still on. Your body trembled with anticipation, the pain of your wounds pulsating through your senses keeping you awake while the night engulfed the place in a dark, and sinister silence. The car came to a stop with the lights falling upon the form of Edwin ‘Vision’ Jarvis, who was wearing the signs of the fight you two engaged in hours ago. Tension is quite obvious, the fact the man trusted you enough to come here without any questions was enough to tell you he was desperate. As much as you were.

The door of the car closed with a dry thump; your eyes shifted to Wanda who was sitting by the passenger’s seat trying to hold onto the tears while Agatha had a gun to her head. Vision smirked when he realized you kept your word of coming alone, of giving into his demands and getting him closer to the escape he needed to have his freedom filled with money and pleasure.

“You kept your word.”

“I am a woman of my word, Jarvis.” You replied limping towards the man, his smile grew nastier noticing the pain and the effort it took you to make your way towards him.

“So it seems.” Jarvis nodded to the car, and in that moment your eyes crossed for the very first time with those of Wanda. Something inside you stirred with violence, you wished you could go to her and comfort her, to tell her the children were fine and that everything would be fine.

But you couldn’t, and what you did was to drift your stare to go back to Jarvis.

“Very well then let’s get this over with, you and I need medical attention and I already have someone in mind.”

Without any warning he lifted his hand wrapping it around your neck and squeezing hard, “I think you are in no position to order me around.”

You lifted your chin holding onto his eyes, he made sure that his hand never left your throat until your face turned into a nasty red colour and your eyes filled with tears. He kept his grip on you, growling while putting his face closer to yours.

“Jarvis, please!” Your heart fluttered tenderly when your heard Wanda speaking, and you couldn’t help the curve on your lips when the man let go of you.

You took a deep breath massaging your neck, your eyes gleaming with anger and defiance, an expression Vision would have a pleasure to take off of you as soon as you kept your part of the bargain.

“I hope you know that if you double cross me or if you try something against me nor Agatha, Wanda will end up with a bullet in her head.”

You clenched your jaw tightly, nodding curtly while nodding towards the car. Jarvis snorted pushing you hard against the car opening the driver’s door.

“Come on, time is of essence right now.”

The car smell like blood and sweat, your eyes found those of Wanda and for a brief moment you could see the doubt in her green eyes, you could sense her fears and the uncertainty of the whole situation. Agatha huffed hitting Wanda with the gun, she then turned to you making a face of pure disgust.

The car was put into motion, you glanced out of the window while giving the directions to the closest private airport. Without a doubt, Jarvis knew his way around the seclude parts in the country, and while he didn’t fancy to have anyone know where he was about to go, it was quite obvious for him he needed you and this place to get away from the authorities. He didn’t trust you that much, if the police had arrived at your home he knew they would be looking for you and him after the scene at your place.

Jarvis drove fast, erratically showing the signs of exhaustion and pain that had been consuming him all through the afternoon. You could see him losing the battle against his wounds and the state he was in, just as you could notice the craziness consuming the woman sitting beside you with the gun tightly pressed against Wanda’s head. The silence in the car was only interrupted by Jarvis ragged breathing, and the engine of the car.

Soon, and after more than an hour of driving you saw the gates leading to the private airport. The place was empty, the guard that was supposed to be watching over the gates was absent though the security hut held onto white light flickering from time to time. Jarvis stopped the car holding onto his grunts before turning his eyes to you.

“Well?”

You frowned leaning forward, your head turned left and right shrugging.

“The guard is not supposed to leave his post.” You commented softly, a sigh left your lips with your eyes flickering to Wanda, “I can try and see…”

“No, Agatha, give me the gun go and see who is in there and open the gate.”

Agatha hesitated before giving in and handing the gun to Jarvis, the man enjoyed the control he had over the women in the car. Not only did Wanda obey without protesting and was now as she had always been, quiet and submissive, but Agatha was ready to comply with all he needed and wanted and you…well, you were smart, you did nothing to jeopardy your security and that of Wanda, with time Jarvis would make sure to correct your sexual deviation while submitting you to him.

The place looked empty, though Jarvis could see the workers of the night shift filling out the hangars, small cars moving in and out before settling for the night. Everything looked quite normal, a night in a private airport in which charter planes waited for a new trip, you shifted in the back seat glancing around the place while directing Jarvis to the last entrance.

“When is the plane schedule to leave?” Jarvis asked glancing back at you through the rearview mirror, you furrowed your brows putting your phone from your pocket before handling it over to the man.

“Five minutes to midnight.”

“Why? Why so late?” Agatha asked with tension dripping from her voice.

Jarvis quirked a brow, he too was quite interested in the answer to such a question. He had never known of a plane to take off at such an hour, his eyes went back to the road taking close attention to everything and everyone making sure no one would dare to stop them.

“We need to justify the flight, I told the pilot I was needed it in Paris for a meeting.” You replied shrugging, “I told him I didn’t want to wait so he got the permissions and that’s the latest we could get.”

“Permission? I thought that you could fly whenever you want.” Agatha furrowed her brows, but it was Jarvis the one who laughed shaking his head.

“Don’t be an idiot, we need to ask for permission to take off, it’s not like grabbing a car or anything like that…” Jarvis then shrugged, “I did think it would be faster…”

You huffed rolling your eyes, “no, flying it is far more complicated than driving.”

“Very well, do we go in or stay outside?” Jarvis was approaching the last Hangar, he lifted his eyes to you.

“Let’s get in.”

The place was lit up by the white and yellowish lights of lamps hanging from the ceiling; the gate was completely open with the nose of the plane pointing to the runaway ready for the trip. Jarvis exited the car walking around to stretch his hand to Wanda, the young woman hesitated enough for him to lean in and gripped her forearm tightly. You tried to step closer but Agatha stood by your side pressing painfully the barrel of the gun on your ribs.

The place was alone, but the plane had the cabin door open with the stairs down waiting to be boarded.

“Look at the efficiency of your lover, dear.” Jarvis whispered in Wanda’s ear, “soon, you will know pain, and I won’t let you die until I have taken new children off of you. Until you are begging me to end your life.”

Wanda shivered clenching her jaw while keeping her eyes ahead of her, you shifted letting your eyes wandered around before settling on Jarvis. Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement in the cockpit, Agatha narrowed her eyes shifting uneasily at the silence in the room.

You worked hard on what you were supposed to do, Jarvis needed to go inside the cabin with Agatha but Wanda was a problem. You saw movement inside the plane once more, and you could feel eyes on you.

“We can wait inside the plane,” you suddenly offered, your voice trembling while you grabbed the phone, “I can call the pilot asking where he is.”

Jarvis frowned turning to you, “why is he not here?”

“I don’t know? Maybe you can ask him when he comes,” you replied harshly earning yourself a hard hit from the gun Agatha was holding, you were seeing stars while trying to hold onto your consciousness.

“I would hold back my tongue if I were you, Agatha doesn’t appreciate rudeness, much less if it is directed against me.” Jarvis commented approaching you, he snatched the phone off of your hands narrowing his eyes he tried to see that your communications were being done with the pilot.

He read the messages, his hand clenching into the mobile when he caught sight of those messages you had exchanged with Wanda.

“Very well, I think I need a drink, I hope you have a good whiskey inside.”

You scowled lifting your chin, “I do.”

Your heart was beating really hard, so far you had only seen one gun and it was the one that Agatha had been flashing all night threatening Wanda and then you. Your eyes drifted quickly to the cockpit and then to the back office in the Hangar. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, counting in your mind so as to distracted yourself from the growing anxiety inside your chest.

You followed Jarvis who pushed Wanda ahead of him, then he went behind her and Agatha staggered behind you. From the moment she arrived to the airport, Agatha had felt uneasy; there was just something so…strange about this. It was so easy, without any unwanted encounters.

Silence filled the place, you took a deep breath.

You trusted Fury and Peggy and all the forces that had filled out your building were capable of doing what they said they would without harming anyone. Your eyes flickered again to the cockpit window, this time around you could see the reflection of someone wearing military gear inside, then the swift movement in the back office and you knew you would need to get to Wanda before Jarvis could do something.

Behind you, and totally forgotten, was Agatha.

The woman that had obsessed over Jarvis, ready to do his biding as long as she got to enjoy a piece pf affection from him. She grabbed the gun, her eyes going big as saucers when they caught sight of someone inside the plane.

Everything happened in a second.

Wanda and Jarvis crossed the threshold of the plane’s gate, with you almost putting a foot on the stairs when the woman shrieked for Jarvis to come down. She grabbed you by your hair pulling hard, while Jarvis having heard and understood the meaning behind such a scream grabbed Wanda by her neck punching her several times on the ribs and abdomen making sure his grip on her was tight almost to the point of choking.

“GO! GO! GO!”

You grunted struggling against the older woman, your elbow finding her abdomen hitting her hard until she had to let go of your hair. You heard more than saw the screams and heavy footsteps moving towards you, you turned around hearing Wanda’s gasp and tiny scream for help.

“NOO!”

Agatha screamed and then, you stood there…

You didn’t even register the sound of the gun.

But you felt the bite from the bullet, the burning pain running through your body. And then, you knew no more.

______________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Wanda can't sleep, the twins don't know how to deal and America is trying to hold it together. What is the price of happiness?

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

145 notes · View notes

abilouwrites · 7 months

Text

I WANT YOU

Jamie Drysdale

Me when Mitski 😭😭

It’s him. It’s always been him, no matter the circumstance or the choices I’ve made. Everything I’ve wanted and everything I needed has always been him.

He’s standing there, looking at me like he always looked at me. Soft and kindly a little wobbly like a newborn deer. Standing in the doorway, the light cascades over him. Painting him in this angelic light.

I want to go to him, a string that tugs at my heart and pulls with the strength of a thousand men. I want him so badly. To go to him and be in that warmth he provides me.

I’m stuck in the car, unmoving. My hands feel like their glued to the steering wheel. My lungs can barely function and I don’t know what to do. Nothing could’ve ever prepared me for this.

I want to scream and shout, run up to him and kiss him. Scream in his face and hit him; kiss his face as I tell him how much I love him.

I drag myself out of the car. I walk slowly as I keep eye-contact with him. Finally he engulfs me in a hug.

The door closes and I slide to the floor. A heap of sobs, clutching onto his arms as I cry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why!” I cry out as he wraps himself around me. Holding me like this, this is why I fell in love with him. Even though I knew it could never work out with us.

“I love you” he tells me

“It’ll never work with us, Jamie please. My heart, it can’t” I whisper against his lips, “Jamie..”

He closes the gap between us and I crawl onto him, his hands rake through my hair gripping onto my scalp in a needful desire for each other.

“It’s always been you Jamie” I finally confess, the words choke out in this sad little mess of gasps and sobs.

“I know”

#anaheim ducks #hockey #nhl #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale x reader #jamiedrysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine

107 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 10 months

Text

Royal Pain Part 3

Hello! I was going to post this yesterday but I thought I would be busier for WIP Wednesday which only two people participated in (sad author noises). And then I was waffling about putting up a meta about Steve’s parents (I ended up just saving it in my ‘bit of everything’ file). And then I realized it was super late and should put this up before I forget again.

This next part is for @weirdandabsurd42 who mentioned being excited to see Wayne and was thusly added (because I almost forgot to put him there, oops!), thereby creating one of my favorite lines I’ve ever written so...thanks!

Part 1 Part 2

***

Steve closed up his shop with a spring in his step and a grumpy Robin following behind.

“I can’t believe you are dragging me to a metal concert,” she groused as she locked the door behind her.

“You don’t have to come,” Steve said with a grin. “You can stay home on a Saturday, all by yourself with a pint of ice cream and the latest rom-com.”

Robin glared at him. “You know that I have to come with you so you don’t throw yourself at Eddie.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they walked to his car. “I’m not going to throw myself at him.”

Robin clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh that’s right I forgot! You already have!”

Steve glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” she asked, sliding into the car. “So what do you call offering to do his back tattoo?”

Steve already in the car, hit his head on his steering wheel. “Fucccckkkk.” He hit it over and over. “Why did I do that? Why did he agree? What am I going to do?”

Robin rubbed his back. “I think this is good thing for you. If you do well on his wings then you can start doing large pieces again. And if not, then you know it’s not something you can do and you’ll never do another one ever again.”

Steve sighed and wrapped his arms around the steering wheel. “I just wanted him to like me.”

“As person, as friend or as a boyfriend?” Robin asked seriously.

“All of the above?” Steve said raising his head to look at her. “Apparently the first one has been met. I’d take the second one, but I would love the last one more than anything.”

“Well this weekend will be a great opportunity to test the waters and see how he feels. Because even if he wants to be friends now, there’s still a chance he might want something more in the future. Just don’t bank on it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” He turned the key and pulled out of their parking lot.

“This would be a good time to get a couple of apprentices of your own,” she said after a few miles of silence. “You’re going to be spending a lot of hours on Eddie’s tattoo and you’re going to need someone to pick up the slack.”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “I know. I’ll start putting out feelers in the community and see what’s out there.”

Robin nodded. “We’ll put up filers at the local colleges and universities as well as putting it up on our website. I’ll talk to Will and see what he can come up with for both.”

“I know he’ll turn it down but offer him the usual rates for that sort of thing,” Steve agreed.

Robin laughed. “Fingers crossed he’ll accept this time.”

Eddie walked into his apartment and flopped face first into his couch. It had been such a whirlwind day. He wasn’t even sure he could function. That really was the downside to having a full time gig. Having all this free time.

Because yeah, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin practiced nearly every day, and they were always coming up with new music, it just wasn’t the same as full time job. He didn’t have to do anything but show up and perform two nights a week. He could phone it in if he wanted.

Not that he would. Just...that he could. Which meant on days when his head was spiraling he could stew for days and never leave this couch.

He rolled over and pulled out his phone and dialed that familiar number.

“Munson residence!” came the gruff familiar voice.

“When are you going to at least get a caller ID, old man!” Eddie crowed.

“Shut it, boy,” Wayne growled. “I have one and it works just fine, the greeting is polite. Something I thought I raised you better in.”

Eddie giggled. “You love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?”

It was something that they had established long before Eddie left Hawkins to live on his own in the big city. Long before before Eddie took three years to graduate. Long before Al Munson abandoned his son on his baby brother’s door step for one last job. A job that would land him in prison. They had this code. Well, not really a code.

Just this thing between them. When Eddie had a rough day, he would call Wayne. But depending on the swirling of emotions going through his head, sometimes he just need to hear Wayne talk about his day. Gossip about his neighbors. Let the words flow over him until he felt at ease enough to go to sleep.

Other nights, though. The really bad ones. The ones where Eddie needed advice, he would talk. Sometimes Eddie would figure it out on his own, other times he would need Wayne to give him advice. This was one of those nights.

“Talk,” Eddie breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Wha’cha got, Ed?” Wayne asked gently.

And Eddie just let it all spill out. The tattoos, Steve, the band, feeling like they had stagnated.

“That’s a lot on your plate, boy,” Wayne said. “I can see why you wanted to share.”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know what to do about...well any of it to be honest.”

Wayne hummed. “When was the last time you went out and did something fun? Something for just yourself? And don’t say get a tattoo because that’s part of the tangled mess right now.”

Eddie blinked. When was the last time he had gone out for drinks, saw a movie, or even listened to music other than his own? “I’m not sure.”

“Well there you go,” Wayne said. “Creativity isn’t endless, boy. It’s a well and you’re going through a drought because you aren’t taking in any influences other then that feedback loop you’re on.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t have to be with your friends or even that boy you’ve got your eye on,” Wayne explained. “Just go out and have fun for yourself, ya hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, already feeling lighter. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

“Rest well, okay?” Wayne murmured.

“You too.”

Jeff shook his head and rolled his eyes as he watched Eddie play with his rings, his knee bouncing up and down.

“Chill!” Gareth growled. “For fuck’s sake. We are professionals, we’ve done this twice a week for years. What’s got your panties in a twist this time?”

Jeff wagged his eyebrows. “This time pretty boy Steve Harrington is going to be in the crowd. With a girl no less.”

“She’s gay,” Eddie bit out. “A literal flaming lesbian. I just have to pass the best friend test with her. And considering she wanted me to get his number, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to work that hard.”

“I noticed you didn’t deny that you’re nervous about Pretty Boy being in the audience tonight,” Brian teased.

Eddie threw up his hands in the air and leapt to his feet. “All right, yeah. I’m nervous. Even when I did have boyfriends that would show up, I knew they liked the music. But I have no idea if Steve is just being nice or if he’s actually interested in hearing us play.”

Jeff cocked his head. “Yeah, I can see how you might be worried he won’t like it. But if he doesn’t, isn’t better you know that now, before your feelings get in too deep?”

Eddie’s lip quivered. “Yes. I mean, of course. But it still makes me feel like crawling out of my skin, okay?”

“Okay,” Gareth said. “So do what you do best and throw yourself into the music. Let it wash over you. You are a consummate performer. So kick ass.”

Eddie nodded and the nod slowly turned into a head bang with him playing air guitar. By the time the knock came to let them know it was time, Eddie was ready to go out there and rock.

Steve hadn’t been to The Nightmare Holes before. It hadn’t even been on his radar at all. That was so weird, especially since it was almost literally doors down from Robin and his favorite club.

Well that was until they were dropped off in front of a large concrete building that didn’t look like a bar from the outside at any stretch of the imagination. In fact the only thing that stuck out at all was a neon sign with a large arrow pointing to a set of stairs leading down proclaiming this to be The Nightmare Holes.

When they got into the bar, Steve realized that they were going to stick out like a sore thumb. With Steve looking prep and Robin looking punk, they were going to be murdered before Eddie even got on stage.

They were saved by a goddess if you believed Robin later. This pretty woman in a tank top and tight leather pants with four inch heeled boots came up to them.

“Hey!” she greeted warmly. “You must be Stevie, right?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid you’re one up on me. You know me, but I don’t know you.”

She smiled much to Robin’s chagrin. “I’m Miranda, girlfriend of the rhythm guitarist, Jeff Lawrence. He was worried that Eddie might have forgotten to tell you that wearing your usual clothes might make you stand out.” She waved her hands at them. Both Robin and Steve blushed. “You aren’t too bad actually. I was think you would be much worse the way Jeff was going on.”

“He only saw us at work,” Robin explained once she picked her jaw up off the ground. “He might have assumed that we wear that on the regular.”

Miranda nodded. “You can do this one of two ways. Stay dressed as you are as big middle finger to conformity no matter who’s conforming to what or you come with me and I can tweak your looks enough that you don’t stand out as much.”

Steve looked down at his clothes and tilted his head. “I think I’m going to give conformity the middle finger, thanks. I’ve been bucking what people think a tattoo artist should look like for years. I’m not going to change that for one little concert.”

Miranda nodded appreciatively. “Good on you. How about you, princess? You gonna give conformity the middle finger, too?”

Robin looked down at her clothes and blushed. “I think most metalheads would say a punk is being a step too far.”

Miranda laughed. “You’re probably right. Let’s go see if I can metal you up a bit.”

The two ladies came back a few minutes later. Robin still had her chunky jewelry and smudged makeup. But her billowy plaid pants were replaced by tight black jeans and instead of her vest, she wore a black jacket. Her hair had been tamed to a more relaxed style.

Steve grinned at her. “Looking good, Robs!”

Robin blushed. “I made a new friend.”

Miranda laughed. “Thanks for that.” She looked around and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Just a little secret between us new besties.”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, but both nodded.

“I don’t like metal music, either,” she whispered and winked. She turned around so she faced the stage. “But I’m here because my Jeffie does. So if you don’t like the music, because hey, you might not, don’t sweat it. They put on a good show and we’re here for them.” She jutted her chin up at the stage just as the house lights went down and the stage lights went up.

Standing the spotlight was Eddie. He wore a slashed up band shirt, tight jeans, and his leather jacket. A jacket Steve was about to learn wasn’t going to feature long. About twenty minutes into the show, the jacket was gone and Steve could see a peek of the new tattoo through the slits in the shirt.

He licked his lips slowly. Ooh...that was tantalizing. And then Eddie threw caution and his shirt to the wind and everyone saw Eddie’s new tattoo.

Robin turned to Steve wide-eyed. “Holy shit, it blends seamlessly into the rest of the tattoos, like it was there first.”

Miranda peered around Robin to look at Steve, too. “Yeah, man. You did a hell of a job. You should be proud of that.”

Steve was. No doubt. But he was prouder of the fact that Eddie wanted everyone to see it. It melted his heart and settled at the base of his spine, like he had drank a cup of hot chocolate all at once.

And that was when Steve realized he would do anything for Eddie. Even if that meant just being friends.

***

My new favorite line? * “Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?” * It’s just so...Wayne, you know?

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

273 notes · View notes

spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

Note

Love your Melissa fics so much! Could you please write "Are we just gonna... keep holding hands?" "Dunno. It's nice though." with Melissa x Reader?

It will never not amaze me that people actually like my fics?! It further amazes me people like my writing enough to actually ask for more of it! But you were lovely enough to ask, so I can only oblige. A little short, but hopefully you like it!

~~~

You heard her coming before you saw her. Or rather, you heard the muffled string of curses that preceded her stomping towards the fire pit where you still sat.

The team bonding experience had been Ava’s idea. To say that not everyone was on board with the camping excursion was putting it politely. You were just thankful there was an actual functioning toilet and shower set up.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Melissa asks as she drops down next to you on the log you had been sitting on.

You turn to look at her, taking a moment to appreciate her face lit only in the glow of the fire. “Just taking the chance to enjoy the quiet and look at the stars,” you answer quietly. It’s a little lame, you know, but it’s the truth. You’ve always loved nature, and while you enjoy having everything on your doorstep in the city, there’s something special about being outdoors. The sounds are somehow softer, soothing rather than harsh.

She takes a moment to look up, a smile tugging at her lips as she begins to appreciate how much clearer the stars are away from all the light pollution of the city.

Your eyes, however, remain on her face. What can you say, you like looking at beautiful things? She jumps as a loud sound cuts through the quiet of the forest.

“What the fuck was that?” she hisses, her hand reaching out and grabbing a hold of yours.

“It’s just an animal,” you chuckle. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

She huffs. “Give me car horns and the drunk across the street hollering any day of the week.”

The hand clutching yours doesn’t let go. “Not one for nature, then?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just like to know what I’m dealing with and when it’s pitch dark in the middle of nowhere and the forest is full of freaky ass noises it puts me on edge,” she admits.

You squeeze the hand in your own, trying to silently offer some comfort. Glancing to the side, you see that Melissa is studiously staring at the dwindling flames of the fire before you and definitely avoiding looking at you.

“Are we just gonna…keep holding hands?” you ask, not daring to look at her as she answers.

“Dunno,” comes the reply, hesitant and unsure. “It’s nice though.”

At this, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You’ve both been tiptoeing around each other for months now. Friends, but at times flirting with something more. Both terrified.

Maybe it’s the late hour, or the cover of darkness that makes you bold, but for whatever reason tonight you decide you’re finally going to put a toe across that line. Removing your hand from Melissa’s for a moment, you quickly replace it with your other hand, tugging her towards you and slipping your now free arm around her waist.

You feel her tense for a moment, but she quickly settles her head on your shoulder, nuzzling into you. Smiling, you press a kiss to her hair before letting your head rest against hers.

“This is kinda nice too,” she says softly.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

328 notes · View notes

eyeofnewtblog · 6 months

Text

Things that happen at home:

So, my mom had her first symphony concert this weekend, and I’m happy to report that it was a smashing success.

What I personally thought was really cool is that the whole symphony is mostly older women. Most of the brass section was older men though, and you could tell that the trumpet and trombone players were having a great time with the music (lots of jamming out head and shoulders movement) and WOW that tuba player has A Set Of Lungs.

Honestly kinda makes me miss the days when Middle Sister would stand just outside my bedroom door and just BLAST through her practice session as fast as possible. Yes, she was a tuba player. Yes, she was in marching band and orchestra. Yes, I absolutely ran out screaming “MOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!” Every. Single. Time. No, that did not stop her in anyway whatsoever.

Anyway, there was also a cello soloist that performed with violin and viola accompaniment, and he was legitimately fantastic. I told my mom during intermission that she was better and she did her scrunch up face of You’re Full Of Shit But I Like The Support which was cute.

I was sitting next to my one of my cousins for the concert and we both kept side eyeing each other and giggling about how he was bobbing along and jamming out…for those of you that don’t know, it’s very easy to jam out and look cool when you have either a very small instrument or a very large instrument.

When you have a medium instrument, like a cello or French horn, you just look silly if you’re jamming out (saxophone is the exception) and my mom has this very…contained way of playing that looks intense but graceful and determined. So to see someone looking like they’re jamming out on an electric guitar while playing a cello was just…hilarious to us, because we’ve been watching my mom jam out for decades and never seen anyone look so goofy while sounding so good.

One of my moms work friends showed up, and she was an absolute delight. Complete sweetheart; it’s also really fucking funny to tease government contractors about their top secret clearances and joke about their projects or basically anything that they aren’t allowed to talk about. (I teased her specifically about being in the CIA because she does intelligence analysis; my husband and I have a long standing “argument” about if my mom works on quantum computers or making targeted ai satellite systems talk to each other, because honestly her PhD could easily allow for both) the goal is to make relatively small jokes and then drop it quickly because you don’t actually want them to violate their security protocols…but fucking hell if it isn’t fun to toe the line.

My mechanic husband had the dubious joy of teaching me how to jump start a car in the parking lot without jumper cables. (My car battery is in the fritz and needs replacement but we honestly thought it could wait another month or so…)

But basically you put the car in neutral, push it into a position that it can roll naturally downhill, then put it in either first gear or reverse (which ever way is down hill, basically) and release the clutch. I’m pretty sure this only works on automatic transmission vehicles, but I could be wrong and didn’t ask for clarification.

I’d like to point out that we were in a crowded parking lot with a perfectly functioning set of jumper cables. We could have absolutely asked any of the ten people walking by if we could get a jump. We could have waited for my cousin to come out, because we were parked right next to each other. But no. “What if you’re stuck by yourself? You pride yourself on being able to get out of anything.”

That man knows me too well.

Overall, great night. Fantastic concert, great learning experience, got to be an absolute little shit. 10/10, would do again.

#humans are space orcs #my mom is amazing as always #cello is the best instrument I’ll die on this hill #car trouble #marry a mechanic #trust me it works #but also #marry a plumber #either way you will never be helpless again

97 notes · View notes

professionalfanatic · 4 months

Text

It's been two hundred years since Magnus Bane lost his husband. Two hundred years since he'd lost the love of his life, Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

Magnus stood, looking out at the starry lights of the busy New York City. The streets were brimming with life, and the sounds were deafening as always. The horns of the cars, the screeches of the brakes, the low hum of people talking, they were all just the same as they had been two hundred years ago.

Strange how everything had changed and remained unchanged at the same time.

Magnus cradled his half filled wine glass lovingly. Once upon a time he would have done that to Alec's face, and would have pressed a kiss to his forehead. But now Alec was gone.

He looked down at the letter on the table. He wanted to read it, and throw it away, both at the same time. Magnus closed his eyes, feeling the familiar prickling behind his eyes. He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Did he have the courage to read the last letter Alec had left him?

Before Alec had died, he'd given Magnus a huge bundle of letters. He'd been on his deathbed at the time, the Brothers having declared that there was nothing they could do to save Alec's life. Alec had smiled at Magnus, and had told him to open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet. Once Magnus had discovered the letters there, Alec had whispered that he hoped the letters to help. And then he had closed his beautiful blue eyes forever, leaving Magnus with a bundle of letters and a lifetime of wonderful memories.

He'd gone, leaving Magnus to grieve for eternity.

Magnus's throat burned, and he inhaled sharply. Alec's death still hurt like a sword stabbed through his heart.

He'd read the first letter, the one with the simple sentence on the envelope saying when you miss me.

He had been missing Alec so much that he had been almost suffocating with the pain. His heart had been aching, as if someone was twisting the invisible knife in his chest. He was almost gasping for breath and he wanted nothing more than to die, to end this numbing pain.

And then he'd read Alec's letter.

" My dear,

My own Magnus, " it had read, "This letter is for you when you miss me. Miss me dreadfully.

Your heart must be wrenching with pain, and it must be difficult for you to breathe. The pain must be intense, and you'd surely be wanting to die, and just end everything. That's what I felt when Jace died.

But, Magnus, I haven't left you. I'm still here, I'm still here with you. And do you know how you could see me? Close your eyes, Magnus, and whisper my name. You'll see me then. Because you see, I didn’t leave you. I'm still alive, in your heart, and in all the memories we made together. "

At the end of the letter Magnus had sobbed his heart out, clutching the letter so hard that it had ripped in half. His heart felt as if it had splintered into a million smithereens.

But he had felt a little better. The ache of not seeing Alec would never go away, but it had lessened. Enough for him to go on living at least.

And the letters had helped. Alec had written one for every occasion.

He'd written one for when Magnus is so angry he wanted to burn the world down. A letter filled with the soothing love which always made Magnus calm down. Magnus thought he heard Alec's soft voice when he read it, easing his boiling anger, just how a lullaby would comfort a toddler.

Alec had written one for when he is so sad that he couldn’t function. When he fell into a black hole and couldn’t find his way out at all. Alec's letter cheered him just the way Alec had always did. How he always reminded him that there were always good things in this world.

And there was another letter. A letter full of reassurance when Magnus depreciated himself, hated everything about his existence. Hated his demon eyes, hated his magic, and felt that no one could ever love a filthy Downworlder like him. Alec swept those misgivings away with his loving and caring letter, just like he'd done when he had been alive.

Another one for the time he'd first smiled after Alec's death. He'd seeked comfort in Alec's letter after feeling unbelievably guilty for enjoying something without Alec. For being happy without his Alec. Being happy after the man he loved died. Alec's letter filled with joy and laughter lighted up Magnus's bleak life.

And so the letters had gone on.

Magnus had read them over the past two centuries, reminding himself again and again as to why he'd fallen in love with the blue eyed Shadowhunter.

But when he'd woken up that morning, he had closed his eyes, and had tried to imagine his Alec, he hadn't been able to. He still lived in his heart, but the image wasn't clear. It was hazy, a sort of warm feeling you keep close to your heart. You remember the gist, but the fine details have faded.

Magnus remembered how Alec had laughed when he was with Jace and Isabelle, but he couldn’t clearly recall how deep his laugh was. He knew Alec smelled wonderful, but what he exactly smelled like, he couldn’t bring to memory. He knew he loved the way Alec kissed him, but he couldn’t remember exactly how Alec did so. Whether he leaned in first, or stroked a thumb across his cheek first. He knew Alec tasted sweet, but like what, he didn’t remember.

And he knew Alec had the bluest eyes possible, bluer than the ocean, than the sky, and even more than his magic, but Magnus couldn’t remember the exact shade.

He had sat on his bed, shocked and shaken to the core, scared that if he would forget these details, small ones, yes, but the ones which made Alec, well, Alec, he'd forget something else. Something important. And, this hurt him more than anything, that Alec would finally fade into a distant memory, a warm and welcome one he'd think only on his hard days.

And Alec, his dear sweet Alec, he knew that this would happen eventually. So he'd left a letter, his very last letter addressed with a simple when you forget the exact shade of my eyes.

Magnus had never really believed that he'd forget Alec's eyes. Their exact colour and shape. He had believed himself to have a better memory, that he'd remember those gems which had attracted him to Alec in the first place. But he'd forgotten. It had taken him two hundred years, but yes. He'd forgotten.

Taking a deep breathe, Magnus took the letter with shaking hands. He ran a light finger over the cursive writing on the envelope, reliving the way Alec looped his ys with a sad smile. He tore open the envelope and pulled the letter out, a much bigger one than the others, and began to read it.

Magnus had expected it to be a letter with sad reproachings. But he was wrong, of course he was wrong. How could he have thought that his Alec would ever even think of hurting him?

Alec's letter was filled with joy, happiness and warmth, just like him. Magnus felt his lips tugging into a teary smile seeing the pictures Alec had enclosed in his letter. The first one they'd taken together as a couple. Alec was clutching Magnus's hand with a determined smile, a glint in those blue eyes of his, challenging anyone who'd dare say anything against him. Magnus had been incredibly proud of Alec, his boyfriend for standing up against all the prejudices of the Nephilium.

The next picture was the one they'd taken in India. The one where Magnus had worn a saree. Alec had laughed so hard that tears had escaped from his eyes. He had looked at Magnus, his blue eyes crinkled and his mouth open in a little gasp. He had looked absolutely stunning, and for the first time in centuries Magnus had felt his heart skip a beat. And that had been the moment he had realised that there was no going back. He'd fallen for this man so hard that he hadn't realised it until he hit rock bottom.

Magnus choked back a sob when he looked at the picture of them cuddling Max together. Alec was holding him close to his chest, caring for their most precious treasure. Max was smiling up at Alec, waving his tiny blue arms. Alec's eyes were filled with the warmth and wonder at seeing Max, their Max, their baby smile at him.

And then all that was left was the last picture. With trembling hands Magnus picked it up and stared at it.

It was a picture of their wedding.

Underneath it, Alec had written one small sentence.

The happiest day of my life.

Magnus stared at it until he couldn’t see clearly, making him realise that tears were flowing from his eyes.

Alec.

His husband Alec.

Magnus remembered how nervous Alec had been when he'd proposed to him. He had twisted and turned his hands so much that Magnus had been afraid of him actually breaking a bone. He'd bitten his lip, drawing blood, and had let out a series of shaky breaths.

But when he'd finally pushed the question forward, Magnus had searched Alec's eyes, and those blue orbs had shone with nothing but certainty and conviction.

It had taken Magnus less than a second to say yes.

And the wedding, Magnus looked at the picture, looking at how handsome Alec was, wearing a black tuxedo with gold and blue lining. Gold to symbolise Nephilium, and blue for Magnus's warlock lineage.

The wedding of the century, they'd called it. The union of a Nephilium and a Downworlder, of an Angel and Demon, but above all, the union of two souls who loved each other with all their hearts.

As a tear slipped down his cheek, Magnus read the last part of Alec's letter.

And one day, again, you'll fall for someone else. Love someone with that beautiful heart of yours. And that should happen, Magnus. For you're an extraordinary man, and it has always been my greatest privilege and joy to love and to be loved by a man like you. The best gift Raziel ever bestowed on me.

And when you fall for someone else, love another, give them your entire heart. Fall in love again, and again, and never close of your heart.

Don't fear betraying me, love, and never think our story will be forgotten. It shall forever be written in the stars, and most importantly your heart.

I'm happy to have been part of your life, Magnus.

Tear drops decorated the letter when Magnus finished reading. Drawing a trembling breathe in, he collected all the letters Alec had ever left him, and cuddled them to his chest, pretending that it was Alec he was holding close to him. And in a way, he was. Alec had poured his entire soul into those letter.

Of course their story would forever be remembered. Even when Alec faded into a distant memory, a warm yet unreachable one, he'd live forever in Magnus's heart.

After all, how could he forget the man who taught him to love again?

-----------------

My first ever fanfic! Wrote this when I was obsessed with Malec. Just some thoughts of Magnus after Alec's death. :)

#malec fanfic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #cassandra clare #wrote this cause i wanted to be sad #mialovesbl #angst #character death #sad #fanfic #ao3

62 notes · View notes

wandering-feather · 11 months

Text

The Chain

Larissa Weems x Female Reader

Explicit no minors!!!!

Reader is a Normie who is married to Larissa. After the event with Crackstone the new mayor hired Reader as a communication liaison between the school and the town. Larissa and her have been drifting and Larissa seems to put her second all the time. After forgetting a work function of yours and chooses work again, Reader leaves and is in an accident.

I just edited this a little more with just fixed wording, grammar and typos. I have issues with getting over excited and posted this a little too soon. I cleaned it up and made it smoother.

AN: I have not written in a long time and this my first time writing for this fandom. This story came to me in a moment and was written pretty fast because I could not stop. It might not be great but it’s a start. Also this is me getting ready for my series that I posted about. Also the title of the work is from the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.

Warnings: angst, smut, car accident, blood, wounds, hospitals.

You were sitting at your vanity, finishing up your hair and make up. You were excited to be going out with your wife even if it was for a work function. After what happened the year prior the new mayor hired you to be the communications liaison between the town and school. Even though you are a normie you were married to the Principle of Nevermore and with your degree in communications the job was a perfect fit. Ever since you started your job though you both have been busy and seem to be drifting apart. You stop for a second from putting on your earring and frown, the more you think about it it seemed you were the only one trying. You reminded yourself that the last school year was very hard on Larissa and she doesn’t want it to happen again. Sighing you finished up at the vanity and stepped in your closet and slid on your favorite dress and quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your clutch. You stepped out of your shared chambers and stopped at seeing Larissa working at her desk dressed in the clothes she had been wearing all day. You looked at your watch and it dawned on you she forgot because there is no way she had time to get ready.

“Larissa?” You spoke trying to get her attention.

Larissa looked up and smiled noticing how beautiful and fixed up you were but then her face turned to confusion as to why you were dressed up. The moment you saw her confused look you knew you were correct she had forgotten.

“Darling, Why are you so dressed up? Not that I’m complaining, you look beautiful.”

You shake your head feeling tears in your eyes. Larissa noticed this and became concerned.

“I have the work thing tonight that you promised you could make it. I reminded you last night.”

Larissa feels her stomach drop. She did it again and it killed her to see that the tears in your eyes were caused by her. She quickly jumped up and walked over to you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She felt the slight pull of your shoulder and pulled her hand away.

“Darling, I'm so sorry things have been crazy and Wednesday seems to be up to something again. I have been overworked.” She said softly trying to get you to understand.

You took a deep breath and hoped that maybe tonight could be salvageable. “I could go ahead so I won’t be late. You can get ready and then I will tell them you had something come up and will be a little late.” You looked at her with pleading eyes.

Larissa sighed she wanted to say yes but if she didn’t get these emails out tonight a disaster could be happening by tomorrow with upset parents. When you heard her sigh you knew what was coming.

“Darling, I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to attend, with what happened today I have to get these emails out.”

You took a step back and blinked rapidly to stop your tears and not ruin your makeup.

Larissa stared at you noticing you were on the brink of either sobbing or yelling. She wanted to wrap you up in her arms but she wasn’t sure if you would let her. She heard you whisper something.

“Darling, I couldn’t hear you.” She said

You looked up wiping at your eyes carefully, you were done crying over this and being looked over again. Not being able to be your wife’s first choice. You never have been anyone's first choice. What you were doing was helping the school also.

“Larissa, I’m tired of being second to everything in your life. You do this all the time lately. I have been patient and hear me when I say this. I love you with all my heart but I can’t keep doing this. It’s breaking me.” You said this calmly which scared Larissa even more as you have thought about this a lot. These were not just words being said in the moment of anger.

“Love, that is not true please you know how important the school is to me but you are my everything.” She pleads with you.

Shaking your head and huff, “Larissa that is not how it seems. We haven’t even had sex in two weeks and it was like just getting off no romance. You used to send me little notes, have flowers sent to my office. I still do these things I still try but you don’t” your voice was getting a little louder.

You watched as Larissa’s eyes turned to anger and you knew she was upset because you were right and now she was defensive.

“When we got together you knew how important Nevermore was to me.” She said with a curt tone and stood at her tallest height. “I'm sorry you think my love making is lacking and if we are being honest you are just too needy at times.”

You took a shocking breath at her last words. She knew how insecure you are about being a bother to others. Larissa saw your face and instantly regretted her words. She quickly took a step towards you to gather you in her arms and say she was sorry but you took another step back putting your hand out. “Don’t” you could feel your whole body sake. “Just stay here, do your work and I will go do mine. Please don’t come.” You looked her straight in the eyes, “I mean it this isn’t me saying please surprise me and everything will be better.” You turned and grabbed the door knob and without looking back you spoke softly.

“Larissa one day I might not be here, almost losing you last year showed me we don’t have forever. Just know I don’t want to be apart from you.”

You opened the door as Larissa spoke but you didn’t hear her words after she said sorry you had heard that word enough. You walked through the school towards the front doors pushing it open. You wondered if Larissa in fact did follow you but you would not look back. You don’t like to play games like that if you tell someone something that is what you want and you knew Larissa knew that. You got in the car and drove off towards Jericho where the party was being held. You finally put your foot down, you were not going to make her choose you would never do that to her but she needed to know that you can’t keep going like this either.

You arrived at the party letting everyone know that Larissa had something unexpected happen. You worked on moving around the room greeting everyone and you felt your social meter deplete quickly so you excused yourself to your office and sat in the dark thinking. You were not wrong Larissa has drifted you even wondered if she loved you less. What was said had to be said. But you did just tell her why you were upset with her and left instead of trying to talk. You took a shaky breath finally letting the tears fall. If she was falling out of love with you then you would let her be free you would break the chain and let her go. Sometimes love is not enough to keep people together. You held back a sob placing your hand over your mouth. You needed to get to her to let her know you do love her and that the two of you could figure this out together. This can’t be it. You stood up grabbing your bag and keys and thankfully seeing your assistant you told her you were not feeling well. She let you know she would let everyone know. You hoped you didn’t look too bad after crying.

You stepped out feeling the breeze hit your skin and a few raindrops hit your face hurrying to your car you got in as the rain picked up a little. You took some deep breaths trying to calm down. Maybe you should ask your assistant to drive you home but you didn’t want to ruin her night too. Turning the car on you took the road that headed to Nevermore. You turned the radio on to distract yourself and laughed lightly at the song playing The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. Both because it's her favorite band and the meaning of the song. Feeling some tears slipping from your eyes again you quickly punched the station button hearing heavy metal blaring out. You wipe your eyes and that’s when you see the deer standing in the road. It was not raining that hard but it made the road slick. Screaming you grab the wheel swerving. You felt your car lift and roll to the ditch leaving you hanging upside down. Before you slipped out of consciousness you thought about how you never told Larissa you loved her when you left.

You didn’t stay unconscious for long, your eyes snapped open and you could feel the rain pouring around you. You looked around thinking about how your body felt and where it hurt, which was everywhere. You felt something warm dripping down your head and you touched it confirming that you were bleeding. You felt like you could move your body but that doesn’t mean nothing is not broken. You take a deep breath thankful that you felt air moving okay it did hurt to breathe a little. You reached over for your seatbelt and waited one second before unbuckling it and falling to the roof of your car. You cried out as you felt something slice into your leg above your knee. You bit back the pain and looked around for your clutch that had your phone seeing it you reached for it wincing in pain. Quickly getting your phone you groaned because there was no service. It was always crappy in this area and with rain it was impossible to make a call. You thought about writing a note to Larissa so she would know you loved her just in case.

Before you began typing on your phone you saw lights. You knew it was dark. They might not see your car and you begin to climb out of the car ignoring the little cuts you’re getting from the glass. You finally got out of the car and crawled to the road waiving seeing the car slow down you collapsed on the road crying of relief. A person jumped out of the car and came running toward you yelling your name. The last thing you noticed was Vlad before you lost consciousness again.

***

Larissa stood there in shock as you walked away not even responding to her when she told you she loved you. You guys never left without saying you loved each other even if you were upset. She wondered what you meant by one day you might not be there? Were you going to leave her? The tears and sobs began. She collapsed on the floor grabbing at her hair pulling pieces out of the pins. She knew you were not asking her to give up Nevermore but to just show you that she loved you. She was not doing that and she hated herself for that. She cried like that for what felt like ever. She noticed it had began to rain and now she was worried because she hated the fact you were driving out in the rain. She also couldn’t help but know if she kept her promise she could drive instead.

Getting up she headed to the bathroom and was shocked by her appearance. She pulled the pins out of her hair letting the rest fall as her curls fell around her shoulders. She started to clean her face but before she could get all her makeup off she heard a knock at the door. She wondered if it was you but knew that it was too soon. Walking towards the door she opened to find the Astronomy teacher who was taken back by Larissas’s appearance.

“Professor Wilson is everything all right?” Larissa could see fear in the teacher's eyes.

“You need to come with me, Vlad called me, Mrs. Weems has been in a car accident. Vlad found her and she is at the hospital. He asked for me to bring you.” The older lady was frantic at this point.

Larissa felt her world stop at first she didn’t move but when Professor Wilson snapped for her to hurry she grabbed her coat and bag and went with the professor. She was numb. She might have lost you just like you said and she was so stupid she should have been with you. You were not needy and you were neglected by the one person who should have never had. She felt tears fall down her cheek. As they pulled up to the hospital she jumped out of the car running up the steps into the hospital as fast as she could. She ran to the nurse's desk.

“My wife was brought in, she was in a car accident. Weems is her last name,” the nurse looked up and before she could say anything Vlad called out.

“Larissa, she's going to be okay. They are running tests.”

Larissa walked over to Vlad and collapsed in the chair putting her face in her hands. She did this, this was all her fault. She felt Vlad sit next to her and place his hand on her shoulder. “She kept saying for me to tell you she loved you every time she was awake.” Larissa began to sob after a few minutes she used her handkerchief to clean herself up as she saw the doctor.

“Mrs. Weems, your wife is going to be fine. She suffered mostly superficial wounds. Surprisingly nothing is broken, her wrist is sprained. She has a lot of small cuts that will heel up just fine. She does have a head wound but it’s not serious. Though she did have a large deep wound on her thigh it's been sewn up and she is resting. She can go home tomorrow if she stays stable.”

Larissa breathed a sigh of relief thanking the doctor and rushed towards your room but quietly entered in case you were sleeping. Her heels grabbed your attention though and your eyes caught Larissa’s and she stopped when she saw your eyes filling up with tears and her heart broke for the millionth time that night. She was scared you didn’t want her there. You noticed her hesitation and reached your hand out letting her know it was okay to come close. She quickly closed the gap between the two of you grabbing your hand. You both stared at each other for a moment crying before Larissa spoke.

“I’m so sorry I should have been with you and you’re not needy. I have been neglecting you. I love you so much and…” you placed your hand on her cheek.

“Larissa, it doesn’t matter, I mean it does but we got this second chance to have time to work on us. I love you. I should have stayed home and talked to you. You are my everything too. I know you have other priorities but we have to take care of each other too.” You winced as you moved and Larissa quickly went to help and you grabbed her hand intertwining your fingers with hers. “I’m fine, I should have not been driving while I was upset. I let my mind get to me and told myself that you must be falling out of love with me. I just wanted to get back to you.” You touched a strand of her hair smiling lightly noticing she had left the school not put together.

Larissa shook her head frantically as more tears fell down her beautiful face. “Darling I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. That is not true. I love you so much more than my own life. I forgot my priorities and that is going to change.” She leaned in to kiss you but hesitated seeing the small cut on your lip but you broke the distance and kissed her lips ignoring the slight pain.

When she pulled back you smiled at her, “I love you too forever.” You laid there like that for a while you knew you both had to work on a few things but you didn’t mind because your love was too strong to let the chain break.

***

It has been a week since your accident. You forced Larissa to go back to work today because poor Vlad was about to lose his mind. She had promised she would be home at 5pm sharp. Her first promise she made since you were home. You got in the shower and cleaned your wounds which were much better. Your bruises were fading and your wrist hurt a lot less. The only issue you had was the gash on your leg. Getting out you dried off and put on your silk robe and went to the bed. Sitting down you begin to dress your wound on your leg. Before you could finish the job you heard the door to your room open and looked up to see Larissa who had kept her promise. You smiled at her as she smiled back at you.

“Hey I missed you today,” She said, noticing you changing your dressing and frowned quickly coming over to help you. “You should have waited till I got back.” She took over wrapping the gauze around the wound. “Did you think I was going to break my promise?”

You heard the hurt in her voice and put your hand on her cheek making her look at you as she finished wrapping the wound. “First, I missed you too, and no I trust you. I did it by myself so we could have more time to relax together.” You then leaned forward and kissed Larissa’s lips softly.

You could feel her tension relax and she smiled at you as she kissed you back. “I’m sorry today has been hard being away from you after everything.” She said as she stood up and began to remove her heels, earrings and jacket. She then began to undo her hair.

“No wait, stop let me take the pins out please.” You smiled and she nodded and unzipped her dress stepping out of it leaving her in her slip. She walked over to you and sat in front of you as you stood up by the bed. She shook her head and softly grabbed your good wrist to pull you back to sit on the bed. You shook your head this time. “I can stand up for a bit Larissa.” She sighed “ I know I just worry.” She says smiling. You began to pull the pins gently from her hair hearing her moan at the relief of her hair being free. Her curls now fall down her shoulders and you run your fingers through it, smoothing it out hearing her moan again. You squeezed your thighs together feeling your desire run down your leg. It has been too long and you couldn’t help a moan escape your own mouth.

Larissa’s head snapped up towards you and quickly helped you to the bed thinking you were hurt. She stands up frantically. “Where does it hurt?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Larissa, it's okay I’m not hurt.”

She looked at you with such confusion in her eyes. Has it really been that long you thought. “Then what’s wrong?” she asks.

You blushed and looked down, “Its been a long time and when you moaned it just well turned me on,” You felt stupid for being so shy. You also felt like everything was new and to be honest it felt amazing.

Larissa put both her hands on your face and smiled, “Oh darling I have wanted to so badly, I have wanted to show you how much I love you, but you're hurt and I can’t hurt you worse.” She kissed your lips.

“Larissa please I will let you know if you’re hurting me but I need to feel you that way again. Please touch me. Show me.” You pleaded.

Larissa knew she could not deny you not with everything that has happened and she didn’t want to. The things you were saying and the emotion your eyes were showing. What you said in the office broke her heart but it was true she hadn’t really truly touched you in awhile. She nodded, “Alright but this is about you and me showing you how much I love you, we can worry about me later.” She said climbing back on the bed. She helps you lay back against the pillows and being careful to not hurt you she spreads your legs apart. You gasp at the cool air hitting your core. Larissa stops looking into your eyes to make sure you're okay. You smile and place your hand on hers, your way of always telling her you're okay. Larissa smiles and carefully lays between them supporting most of her weight to not hurt you. Normally you like the pressure of her on you but at this moment you were thankful. You smile at her as she kisses you deeply and your hands go up into her hair and she begins to kiss down your jaw and to your throat, “I love you so much Darling you're so beautiful.” She says and she reaches for the belt to your robe untying it and letting your robe fall to your sides. She looks at the old bruises and looks up at you as if she’s asking if it’s okay to kiss them. She wanted to remind herself of how close she lost you or to make them go away. You nod as she then places soft kisses on the bruises each time thanking the stars you’re still here. She kissed back up to your chest kissing right over your heart ,"I'm so sorry." She whispers looking straight at your heart. You saw the tear fall out of her eye and you reached up to wipe it with your thumb. “I’m here Larissa, it's okay.” You said as she reached up catching your lips in a passionate kiss you moaned into the kiss running your hand down her arm. She pulled back looking into your eyes with so much love you knew the look she was in love with you today just as she was in the beginning.

Larissa began to kiss down to your chest taking your breast into her mouth your head fell back as you moaned laying your hand over hers squeezing letting her know you were okay. After giving your other breast attention she licked from your sternum down to above your throbbing core. She smiles seeing how wet you are, that it’s for just her and no one else. She carefully wraps her arms around your legs being careful as she runs her hand carefully over your bandage placing her hand above it she kisses the bandage. You watched her with your mouth partially open. You place your hand over hers keeping your eyes on her as she kisses on your thighs. Moans were escaping your lips and you couldn’t help but buck your hips a little. She chuckles as she looks up at you catching your eyes. Then with a smile she runs her tongue along your slit keeping her eyes on you. You arch your back as much as your body would allow and it was like an explosion came about your body. The sounds you were making were letting Larissa know what you wanted and she began to suck on your clit and while making sure you're staring into her eyes she slid two fingers inside you and began to curl them like you love so much. You were moaning and panting and an utter mess but you kept your eyes on Larissa’s blue ones with your other hand on her head. You knew you were getting close and you knew Larissa knew because she replaces her mouth with her thumb on your clit and climbs up kissing you still keeping her weight off of you. When you guys were like this she wanted to be close to you when you came looking into your eyes.

“Larissa I…..” You took a deep breath trying to get your words out as your head was spinning.

“I know baby it’s okay cum for me.” She whispered in your ear as her fingers moved faster. You felt the sensation start in your stomach and spread throughout your body while keeping your eyes on hers. You let out a sound you have never heard before and kissed Larissa as you came. She pulled her fingers out and you gasped at the motion with how sensitive you were. Larissa pulled back and moved some hair off your face. “I love you so much my darling.” She said kissing on your face running her fingers through your hair.

She laid back and softly pulled you up to her side as you laid your head on her chest. “I love you too.” You whisper. She reaches down and grabs your bad leg resting on her thigh. She rests her hand lightly above your bandage, again something to remind her you're here. You run your finger along her collar bone and smile. It was silent, all that could be heard was your labored breath. It was like all the words you could have said were said in the way she made love to you. You felt your eyes flutter a little as sleep begins to take over. Normally you would be ready to show her but you were to keep your promise also and she wanted tonight to be about you. Also your body was still healing.

Larissa ran her fingers through your hair, “Sleep darling we have later for more.” You hummed and you let sleep take over. Larissa looked down watching you sleep. She had been doing that a lot lately. She furrowed her brow at the about watching you sleep. It seemed creepy. However, right now it doesn't matter she couldn't keep her eyes off of you like you would disappear if she did. She almost lost you and she made a promise to herself and you that she would not do that again.

#larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday #larissa weems x reader #Larissa weems x you #principal weems x reader #gwendolineuniverse

329 notes · View notes

boosoonhao · 5 months

Text

even death (could not keep us apart)

minghao x reader 10k words supernatural au swearing and mentions of death

Fire. Salt. Pain. A loud bang that seems to shatter your eardrums and reverberate through your whole body. Then nothing. For the longest time there’s absolutely nothing; just a mind-bending, insanity-inducing blank darkness. But then -

the distinct smell of sulfur, the taste of dirt and sand between your teeth and on your tongue. Voices, low and foreign and nothing but background noise for the ringing in your ears. A face, blurred lines making up eyes and a nose and a mouth you’re so sure you knew once but cannot even place anymore.

An emotion, the first one you’re able to feel, to understand, familiar and eerily recognizable; fear.

A voice, louder than the rest, tones and syllables slurred and shaky, almost unintelligible:

“You’re alive. Holy fucking shit, you’re alive.”

Minghao is particular about quite a few things, including, but not limited to his car. He’s never allowed you to eat on the road, always insisted on stopping at diners or waiting until you reach a motel. Whenever a hunt has left either of your clothes got especially dirty, he’d insist on getting rid of them, though, he has to admit that the sight of you; sulking in the passenger seat in nothing but your underwear and one of his t-shirts was not one he really minded.

You’re covered, literally from head to toe, in dirt and grime, wet mud dripping onto the leather and pooling at your bare feet. The part of Minghao that’s meticulous, neat and that itches to chew you out for ruining his stuff tingles. But then he looks at you, at the person beyond the dirt and the mud, and he holds his tongue;

you’re wearing the same outfit that he buried you in, a thought that makes bile threaten to rise in his throat. It’s so macabre, he thinks, so undiginified, but at least he’s glad he had the sense to bury you in something practical in favor of the frilly, stupid dresses Soonyoung had suggested. That’s not what bothers him.

What bothers Minghao is the look on your face; the hollowness of your cheeks and the dull, barely there glint in your eyes. The tiredness in your posture and how skinny your wrists are as you clutch onto your own fingers when he drives. You’ve barely even said a word since they resurrected you, and despite Joshua’s close examination and subsequent reassurances, Minghao worries. Joshua is good at what he does, but he’s no doctor. Your body might be fine, functional, but Minghao is - for maybe the third time since becoming a hunter - truly, really scared.

“I was dead,” you say, at last, voice flat and as dull as your eyes. Minghao has heard you feign nonchalance, has heard you school your usual bubbly and explosive voice into something low and careless in the middle of stupid arguments or when you’re so upset you curl in on yourself, but he has never heard your voice like this. He thinks, with more than tiny amount of reluctance, that you sound dead. “I died. Didn’t I?”

He only replies with a low, murmured “yeah”, because what else is there to say, really? You died, he watched you die, and now you’re back. It should be as easy as that, but he supposes nothing is ever truly easy with deals made with devils and demons.

“Minghao.”

He shivers, a wholly involuntary spasm that comes from the painful ache inside his chest; for a while he thought he’d never hear his own name from your lips ever again. And it might not be the same, not right now when you’re still coming back to life, still numb from being fucking dead for six months, but it makes him shiver nonetheless, and his hands grip tighter around the steering wheel.

“Minghao,” you repeat when he remains unresponsive. “what did you do?”

Out of all the demons Minghao has ever had the displeasure of conversing with, Hoseok might have been the one that intimidated him both the most and the least. Had it not been for the glowing, red eyes possessed by all crossroad demons, and the strange hollow echo in his voice, Minghao might’ve thought Hoseok to be just any old schmoe, but the sleek, black suit was unmistakable, and the buried box containing graveyard dirt, cat bones and a picture of Minghao himself did manage to set the mood, so to speak.

“Missing the old ball and chain, are you?” Hoseok had asked, no prompt or explanation needed. This didn’t surprise Minghao; in your short lifespan you had managed to make quite the name for yourself in the underworld, but his muscles twitched and tingled even so, angered by the casual with which the demon spoke of you, how lightly your death was mentioned. Behind him, Seungkwan had cleared his throat, bringing him back and chaining him in. They all knew the severity of it; there would only be this one chance to make the deal.

“Let’s just skip the chit-chat,” Jeonghan, ever the calm and collected part of the team, spoke up from right behind Minghao, placing a calloused hand on his shoulder. “You obviously know why we’re here.”

“Ah,” Hoseok tutted, head tilted to the side. “But you’re not the one who wants to make a deal, are you? I want to hear him say it.” He pointed at Minghao, stiffly standing in front of the others with his gun in hand. More a precaution than anything else, the bullets would not kill the crossroad demon, but they would slow him down, at the very least.

“Can you do it?” Minghao asked, mistakenly letting a mixture of hope and doubt seep into his voice. “Can you bring her back?”

The demon scoffed. “Can I? Of course I can. The question is, what can you do for me?”

He said it so low that Minghao could barely hear him over the loud thrums of his heart echoing in his head, nervousness and hope and reluctance fighting for dominance in his stomach. It had taken so long, finding the right crossroad and the right time, discussing back and forth between the team whether or not it was worth it. Minghao remembered, with startling clarity, the repeated promise you had forced him to make while still alive. Never trade your soul to a demon.

“I’m not giving you my soul,” Minghao said.

Hoseok had busted out laughing at that, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, echoing in Minghao’s ears and creeping under his skin. Are you,” the demon’s eyes glowed like two small, blood red suns, almost painful to look directly at. “Really at a disposition to be making demands, Minghao?” The way Hoseok had accentuated every syllable of his name sent shivers down Minghao’s spine, despite - or maybe because of - the childlike tint to his voice.

Hoseok tsked, reappearing in the spot right in the middle of the dimly lit crossroads. “I don’t want or need your gross soul,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You humans are so dramatic.”

“What do you want, then?” Seungkwan piped up, and Minghao could easily recognize the impatient, nervous quiver of his friend’s voice. They were all impatient, all tired and grieving and desperate, but Seungkwan never quite learned how to deal the way the others did. Minghao both appreciated and regretted that fact.

For a moment, the only thing to be heard were the sounds of the night; owls hooting and cicadas singing at a volume that would’ve unnerved Minghao had he not already been in the company of one of the most powerful demons in existence.

“You know,” Hoseok broke the silence at last, octaves lower than before and the childish glee all but gone. He had sounded serious then, and the extent of his influence, of his power, had never been clearer. “People are quite pleased with your little girlfriend’s demise downstairs.”

At this point, there wasn’t any doubt that Hoseok’s attention rested solely on Minghao, that the boys behind him was mere background noise to the demon. Somehow, Minghao felt strangely alone.

“A lot of pretty powerful people are gonna be mad when I do this,” the when of it brought a painful thump to Minghao’s chest, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I gotta know I’ll be safe.”

It sounded… fair. More reasonable than Minghao had expected of a demon that, though strictly speaking functioned as nothing more than a deal maker and a soul stealer, resembled a trickster. The group of boys behind him had shuffled. He knew what they were thinking, how they were probably eyeing each other. It sounded too good to be true.

“I can see the wheels turning,” the demon sounded amused. Minghao had thought, at the time, that maybe he had heard the right of it when people spoke of Hoseok, the crossroad demon; a mysterious creature that valued entertainment and chaos over anything, even his own species.

“You’re asking us to kill demons for you?”

Hoseok’s grin widened, tangerine locks bouncing against his pale skin as he nodded. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you’ll bring her back? She’ll be…” Because even if the demon could resurrect you, no one really knew at what cost; Minghao was scared to ask, head filled with images of deformity, of brain damage. “She’ll be normal?”

“As normal as one can be after spending half a year in hell, I suppose,” the red-eyed man confirmed. Minghao heard Seungkwan’s breath catch behind him. “Do we have a deal or not? I’m getting bored of this.”

It wasn’t Minghao who confirmed, he didn’t even have the time to open his mouth. Soonyoung stepped up, with an eagerness that would’ve pissed Minghao off had the situation allowed it; the dark haired man never did know how to stay in his fucking lane, always wedging himself in where he was unwanted. “We’re taking the deal. Of course we’re taking the deal. Right?”

“Great,” Hoseok’s eyes lit up as he stepped closer, not stopping until he was a breath away from Minghao’s face. If Minghao wanted to, he could’ve counted the specks of ember in the demon’s eyes, the eyelashes above his eyes. “But you’re the one making the deal.”

The demon put his hands on Minghao’s face, digits firm and cold as death.

“Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Minghao used to joke that he would pay you to shut up, a thornless barb that resembled his own brand of affection more than anything else. Two hours into checking into the dingy hotel and you still haven’t said a single word after finding out about his deal with the crossroad demon. He thinks you might be angry, but it’s hard to tell with the emotionless, blank expression on your face.

You sit on the bed, still covered in dried mud, and you just stare. At what, Minghao doesn’t know, all he knows is that it hurts to look at you. Somehow, he had imagined everything would just return to normal when he got you back. That he’d hug you and kiss you and his heart would put itself back together. He realizes, belatedly, that he had grossly underestimated the trauma of being brought back from the dead. He can’t even imagine, can’t bring himself to ask what you see behind your lids when you close your eyes.

Hell, Hoseok had said. You sure do look like it.

Minghao feels awkward, like he’s learning how to be around you all over again, and he struggles with the balance of wanting to give you space and the literal, physical yearning to embrace you and never let go. You’re there, just a few feet away, alive and real and breathing, but you’ve never felt so far away.

“You’re angry,” he says at last, watches as your eyes glide over the room once, twice before they fall on him. You look confused for a moment, gaze unfocused and lip caught between your teeth, like you’re struggling to gather your thoughts.

“I’m pretty sure I told you never to make deals with demons,” you tell him, a hint of frustration coating your tone. It’s the closest you’ve sounded to yourself ever since coming back to life, and Minghao can’t help the tiny bubbles of hope that push at the back of his neck despite the steely glint in your eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you said never to sell my soul to a demon,” he retorts, letting some of the petulant annoyance that always surfaces during your arguments seep into his voice. You always did love to argue, even death couldn’t take that away from you.

Your hands grip around the fabric of the blankets you’re sitting on, knuckles white and face tight. “I’m pretty sure it was implied.”

“What was I supposed to do, then?” Minghao is on his feet before he can even register getting up. Anger prickles at his skin, a course, painful lump in his throat. “Just let you stay dead?” You’re on your feet to, then, a bit wobbly and not really at peak intimidation, what with your hair and face coated in dirt you’ve not yet bothered to remove. Your voice is loud, shrill, and Minghao is glad he had the forethought to rent the room farthest away from the desk.

“Yes, Minghao! That’s what you were supposed to do!” The words hit him like a fist in the face. Minghao has been on the receiving end of a lot of shit; of shapeshifters and wendigos and poltergeists. He has a particularly nasty scar on his back from when he had pushed you away from an enraged werewolf that still hurts like a bitch during full moons. But he swears nothing, not even the chimera bite or the aftershocks of the demon possession that almost killed him eight months ago, not even all his shitty encounters combined, hurt even a fraction as much as the words leaving your mouth. “That’s what happens when people die!”

Minghao’s throat closes up, every scathing remark and offensive comeback turning into ashes in his mouth. There’s this secret that Minghao carries around, neatly tucked into his chest and hidden behind a hard, sarcastic exterior. It simmers and grows within him, and if the uncomfortable prickling in his eyes is anything to go by, it’s about to spill.

Minghao is, at the root of things, embarrassingly sensitive and emotional. He can’t even deny, nor does he care to, the way his voice breaks at the syllables. “I can’t. Not with you.”

Minghao always felt pretty confident in the fact that you loved him, but he knew he loved you more. It’s not a competition, you’d tell him, eyes rolling but mouth quirking in a smile nonetheless. He knows it’s not a competition, he’d reply.

(But if it was, he’d win.)

He’d had a hunch even the first time he’d seen you, covered from head to toe in swamp water and selkie blood, that you were something special. Hair sticking to your face and breath labored, with a shotgun aimed directly at his face and a dead creature lying between you in the shallow water, one could say that your first meeting had been somewhat less than pleasant.

Somewhere behind you, a male voice was calling out what Minghao had assumed, but not actually gotten to confirm until much later, was your name. You had just stared, barely even blinking, mouth slightly open and small puffs of air visible as you exhaled.

It wasn’t something as silly as ‘love at first sight’, but Minghao would be a fool to deny the rumbling, warm feeling in his stomach.

“What the-” a blond man with a fair face appeared behind you, making both you and Minghao jump. “You shot the selkie? Are you insane?”

You’d lowered the shotgun, then, turning to the man with an annoyed knit of your eyebrows. With your free hand, you wiped at your face, trying - and failing - to rid yourself of some of the slimy liquid. The man scoffed. “You look like an absolute madwoman.”

“I swear, Seungkwan,” you rumbled, voice low and dangerous. Even if it wasn’t directed at him, Minghao felt a shiver tingle along his spine. “What the fuck was I gonna do? She was about to chew his face off.” You gestured towards Minghao, acknowledging his existence for the first time, and the man - Seungkwan, Minghao assumed - turned his head to look at him.

He must’ve looked quite the sight himself, Minghao remembered thinking; half-sitting, half-lying in the swamp water and completely drenched himself after the struggle with the crazy sea creature. He hadn’t even known of it’s existence, only entering the area because of the rumors of a ‘swamp monster’. Though, in retrospect, the encounter was a lucky one, even if his favorite shirt was utterly ruined.

Seungkwan, immaculate and statuesque in comparison to Minghao’s own disheveled appearance, did not look impressed. He hmm’ed, arms crossed and lips pursed. “And who’s this little mermaid, then?”

Minghao decided he did not like Seungkwan.

“No idea,” You’d answered, as if Minghao wasn’t even there. “He was mud-wrestling the selkie when I found them.”

“Tantalizing imagery, that,” Seungkwan murmured. “Is he gonna pay the bounty, too? A lot of cash was riding on this.”

Minghao realized, then, who the two of you are. There aren’t a lack of bounty hunters out there, not when the world is such a big and scary place filled with threats that are both human and supernatural. But there aren’t many good or particularly well-known ones; veteran hunters who knows not to let greed lead them.

Soonyoung had been gushing over it for months, over the duo who seemingly popped out of nowhere and took on any task if the pay was good enough. A girl and a boy, he’d said, about our age. It was apparent, looking at the two of you bickering over money and dead selkies, that you were the duo Soonyoung was talking about.

Minghao had thought, at the time, that you were both kind of overrated. You were a clean shot, sure, and undeniably attractive, but Seungkwan managed to grate on him more in five minutes than three years of Soonyoung’s sleep talking and snoring ever had. When the two of you had excused yourselves, bickering even as you did, Minghao had felt nothing but a frown pull at his features, annoyance over his drenched disposition and ripped clothes the most prevalent feeling in his chest.

He still couldn’t quite stop thinking about the look on your face, about the gleam in your eyes and the slight redness to your cheeks, as you stood in front of him with a gun aimed right at his head.

He tried not to dwell on that.

The first breakdown comes as you’re about to take a bath. Neither of you able to stand the awkwardness and the prolonged silences anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, murmuring humorlessly about how you smell like death. Minghao would’ve appreciated the joke had he not been painfully aware that it’s not meant as one.

When he’s alone in the room, listening to the running water from the bath, Minghao feels as if he’s finally able to breathe again. He looks around the small hotel room, at the stains and dirty clothes and the bag of equipment he had gotten from Joshua; bottles of water and easily digestible food, hot packs and painkillers. No one really had known what to expect when you came back to life, but at least the older man had had some forethought to be thorough.

Minghao, on the other hand, feels useless. All he’d really done was put his picture in a box and made a deal with a demon, and even that task could’ve easily be given to someone else. Post-resurrection, all he seemed to do was agitate you.

As if on cue, he hears a loud bang and a string of pretty imaginative curses coming from the bathroom. Minghao is on his feet and at the door before he can even stop to think about propriety or privacy, heart high in his throat.

You’re still fully clothed, bag of belongings thrown across the tiny room and items scattered all over the floor. The water is running in the bath, but you seem to have forgotten to put the plug in, the water just rushing down the drain instead. The look on your face is perhaps the most emotive you’ve been since coming back to life; something akin to frustration and anger making your eyes wet.

Minghao feels his heart breaking for perhaps the thousandth time in six months.

“I can’t,” you begin, voice cracking and fingers struggling with the buttons on your shirt. Over the course of your relationship, Minghao thinks you’ve both seen each other in some pretty vulnerable situations, but you’ve never looked as helpless and humiliated as you do right now; fingers shivering and shoulders slumped. “I can’t get my fucking clothes off.”

Minghao swallows, glances around the room once, twice, wills his still stressed heart to calm down. “Okay,” he says, once he’s sure he can properly speak without biting his tongue off. “That’s fine. Normal. Joshua said so, remember? Inactivity and all that.” Minghao’s not used to be the attentive one, the one who has to speak softly and reassure without barbs of irony or sarcasm casually thrown in his sentences. He feels awkward, fumbling for words and uncomfortably aware of every movement his body makes.

“I know what Joshua said,” you snap back, voice on the verge of poisonous, but Minghao pays it no mind. “That doesn’t exactly help right now.” You pull at your shirt as if it’s stuck to your skin, as if it itches and hurts to wear.

Inhaling through his nose and counting to three in his head, Minghao closes the bathroom door and approaches you almost like one would a scared animal. If you notice the hesitance in his steps, you do not point it out. “You’ll be fine, you just need… rehabilitation,” he grimaces at the word, at the clinical, cynical way of putting it. “I’ll help you, okay?”

He pretends not to hear the sob, knows how much you hate to cry in front of him, and his fingers feel too long, too big when he starts unbuttoning your shirt.

It’s obviously not the first time he’s undressed you, but it’s the first time the moment feels so fragile, the atmosphere so heavy. He can’t even look at you; gaze zeroing in on each of the buttons instead, ignoring how visible your rib cage is beneath the once soft fabric of the flannel and how your collarbones stick out above your chest.

He thumbs gently over your hip bones as he pulls down your jeans, does not miss your sharp inhale or the goosebumps under his fingertips, but his voice seems to have left him, and all he can do is look at you.

You look like a ghost, like one of the zombies he had put a bullet in ages ago, barely even a remnant of the person he used to whisper declarations of love to in the dark of the night. The thought makes him want to cry, or run away, or cling to you and never let you go; he doesn’t know which of those impulses will win out yet.

“I’ll need help washing, too,” you admit, shame painted onto your face as clearly and visible as the mud in your hair. Minghao just nods, rolls his sleeves up and helps you into the tub.

For a while, there’s just the sound of running water, the occasional hum when Minghao’s hands glides over a particularly sore part of your body or a whimper when he pulls too hard on your hair. The color is returning, at least somewhat, to your face, roses blooming in your cheeks and joints loosening with the help of hot water. It feels so strangely intimate, even if all he’s doing is ridding you of months worth of dirt and grime, scrubbing your back and shampooing your hair, Minghao feels like he’s the one on display.

“It’s not just my body,” you mutter, once you’re clean of mud and your hair unknotted. “It’s my mind, too.” You make eye contact with him when you say this, and even then he knows what you’re talking about. He sees it in your eyes, how the color seems faded, somehow, how your face looks devoid of emotion. “Like, I know, In the back of my mind, that I love you, but I don’t feel anything.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, not without breaking down, at least, so Minghao says nothing. He blinks rapidly, willing away the unbidden tears that prickle at his eyes with the knowledge that his lover cannot feel love for him anymore. Above everything else, Minghao feels guilty. Your words ring in his eyes; was he really supposed to let you go? Would it have been better, less selfish, to just let you rest? His chest tightens.

So lost is he, in his own thoughts, that he doesn’t notice you’re talking to him again until you take his hand in your own. Your fingers feel bony around his hand, and his mind just spirals. “If you think any harder you’re gonna hurt yourself,” you murmur, thumb pressing lightly into his skin. It’s the first sort of contact you’ve initiated, he realizes.

“I was too harsh on you,” you continue, voice subdued. He doesn’t immediately know what you’re talking about, so he just gazes at you, at your intertwined fingers. “If anyone had taken you from me, not even the hell hounds or the four horsemen of the apocalypse could have kept me from finding you. I might not feel it right now, but I know it.”

And it’s those words, the conviction with which you say it, that breaks Minghao. He leans his head against your bare shoulder, lets you comb your fingers through his hair, and Minghao cries. He cries for the first time since you died, since you came back. He cries without inhibition, so loudly and freely that the sounds bounce against the acoustics of the tiny hotel bathroom, and when the two of you finally go to bed, still weird and uncertain with each other and occupying the opposite ends of the queen sized bed, Minghao feels a bit better.

He dreams of fire, of screams and black shadows and yellow eyes staring at him. He dreams of you, of pain and fear and the smell of sulfur and death. It’s a familiar dream, one that’s haunted his sleeping hours for the last six months and when the loud bang of a gunshot echoes in his head, he knows what’s coming. He runs towards you, fighting through what feels like a horde of wraiths to do so, but when he finally reaches you, he finds the same gruesome image as he always does these nights;

Seungkwan on his knees, hands clasped tightly over his mouth, incoherent words and course inhales spilling between his fingers. There’s a silver gun at his side and a bleeding body in front of him. Your fingers are coated in your own blood, reaching, reaching and - falling limply a hair’s breadth away from your childhood best friend’s hyperventilating frame.

Time stops. Minghao wakes up, coated in sweat.

He feels as if he’s carrying someone else’s weight along with his own, and when his head finally wakes up enough to take notice of his surroundings, he feels the distinct sensation of someone’s breath against his neck. He tilts his head, and there you are. Sleeping soundly with your chin against his shoulder, arm slung over his stomach and fingers sprawled against his hip, one leg tangled with his own. His arm is asleep under your weight, but Minghao barely even notices, too transfixed by the smooth lines of your face.

It’s the most like yourself you’ve looked since you resurrected, and even if you must’ve just crept closer in your sleep, body seeking heat, Minghao’s heart swells. He indulges in the feeling, turning to his side so he can see you better, his free hand skating gently over your jawline. He leans his forehead against yours, breathes in easy for the first time in forever.

When he falls asleep again, his mind is free of nightmares.

Soonyoung calls the very next day, just as you’re finished forcing a bowl of porridge down your dry throat. For a moment, Minghao seriously considers not taking the call, wanting nothing more than to just enjoy a few moments of normalcy with you. The frown on his face as he puts the phone to his ears must be more noticeable than he thought, because you level him with a scrutinizing glare. He ignores it.

“What?” he snaps to his friend, not bothering with pleasantries. Needless to say, his relationship with the man he once saw as his closest friend and confidante has been, in simple terms, strained, after your death. The night when Minghao almost broke Soonyoung’s nose notwithstanding, the boys have not spoken one-on-one in months.

Soonyoung replies in kind, opting for getting right to the chase. “How is she?”

Minghao looks at you, takes a moment to observe as you experimentally bend your arms and practice your fingers by buttoning and unbuttoning one of his shirts. Only when Soonyoung says his name into the phone does Minghao remember that he was asked a question. “Just dandy,” he replies.

The man on the other end of the line hums. “Good enough to go out?”

“Soonyoung, this is really not-”

“I’m not asking for myself,” Soonyoung cuts him off, and not for the first time Minghao envies how easily the other man speaks his mind. “Hoseok contacted me. He wants to meet her. Has some information, he says.”

Minghao’s frown deepens. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the crossroad demon forever, they were sort of in his debt, after all, but he’d hoped you’d at least get to be back with the living long enough to re-stabilize before having to fraternize with demons. “What information?”

The other end is silent for a tad too long, and Minghao has to glance at the screen to make sure Soonyoung hasn’t hung up on him.

“About that night,” he says at last, voice so low Minghao barely hears him. “About whatever possessed Seungkwan.”

And, well, that catches Minghao’s interest.

“No,” was the first thing Minghao heard upon entering the diner, a mere two months after his run-in with an angry selkie and two famous bounty hunters. And two months it might’ve been, but Minghao could’ve recognized that shrill, sophisticated male voice anywhere. “We’re not even stepping into that house.”

“Seungkwan,” a second, just as familiar voice, hissed, and when Minghao craned his neck to look around the almost empty diner, he spotted you with ease. Less messy, this time, hair free of blood and clothes in almost pristine condition. Your fingers wrapped around the straw to your drink, swirling it around in a fashion that can only be described as aggressive. “It’s a lot of money.”

Minghao ended up just standing there, debating whether to turn around and leave or eavesdrop further. He watched as Seungkwan leaned over, voice low, and he heard, without mistake, the word poltergeist.

He had the time for a burger, Minghao decided.

With confident steps and a lot more gusto than he really possessed, Minghao strode over to your booth, stopping in front of the both of you. He hoped he looked more intimidating than he felt.

He was pleased to see the flash of recognition in your eyes, for a moment indulging in the thought that maybe you had found him as difficult to forget as he had you. Seungkwan, on the other hand just looked bored. “What? We’ve already ordered.”

Just as soon as the word left the blond’s mouth, he jumped, an exclamation of pain falling ungraciously out of his mouth. If the look of absolute disdain he shot you was anything to go by, you’d just kicked him under the table. “You ass,” you hissed. “It’s the selkie dude. From two months ago.”

“My point still stands,” Seungkwan muttered.

Minghao cleared his throat. “You were talking about a poltergeist.”

The two of you had looked at each other, then, seemingly sharing some private, telepathic sort of conversation, and Minghao felt oddly out of place. Seungkwan opened his mouth, probably, Minghao thought, to argue, but you beat him to it.

“That’s right. You want in?” It was strangely direct, not exactly what Minghao had expected, and for a moment he could only stare at you. You stared right back, sucking on your straw.

“Right,” he replied after collecting his thoughts, only to be interrupted by Seungkwan hissing your name.

”I said we’re not doing that,” he whispered, as if Minghao wasn’t meant to hear. Minghao found it strange that these supposedly professional hunters were so scared of a single poltergeist. Sure, they weren’t the most pleasant things to deal with, but judging by Seungkwan’s white-knuckled fist, there was more than just a reluctance of work there. “It’s too dangerous.”

”See, that’s why this is perfect,” you’d countered, throwing your hand out to gesture at Minghao. “I’ll take selkie-boy here with me, and you stay snug under your blankie at the hotel. Everyone’s happy.” You paused. “Well, except for the poltergeist, I suppose.”

Seungkwan, though reluctant, sighed, bent down to rummage through his backpack. A sign of defeat, Minghao imagined, seeing the look of glee on your face. You scooted further in, patted the now vacant spot next to you. Minghao took a seat, pretended his arm didn’t tingle where it came into contact with your own.

”Have you ever exorcised a poltergeist before?” Seungkwan asked, pulling out a torn, old notebook. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie, like a book of curses passed down through generations, and Minghao might’ve laughed if he didn’t think he’d get kicked for it. “Who- who even are you?” He asked, as if he just realized they had not given each other their names yet, even as they were discussing exorcisms and ghosts.

”Minghao,” he replied quickly, not bothering to ask for names in return. It seemed like an empty gesture, he already had your name memorized. “And yes. A couple.” He glanced sideways, instantly locking eyes with you. You had your chin balanced in your palm, elbow on the table, eyes gleaming as they observed him intently.

”Then you know the basics,” Seungkwan continued, fingers flipping over the pages in his little book at a rapid speed. He sounded like a completely different person, now, concentrated and with intent basically dripping from the syllables. “They’re mostly harmless. Pranksters. Making floors creak and furniture move and all that shit.” Minghao nodded along. It had been a while since he had worked with anyone, ever since Soonyoung returned home to attend a funeral and subsequently went MIA Minghao had been working alone. His spine tingled.

“This one’s a bit more vicious,” you went on, eyes on the book. “Which is what has got Seungkwan’s panties in such a twist.”

“My panties are not twisted! This thing is fucking twisted!” Seungkwan interjected. You made an elaborate and over the top pout. Your lips looked soft.

”Anyways,” Seungkwan cleared his throat. “There have been several incidents over the last couple years, most of them are written down here.” He finally stopped flipping pages, turning the book around to allow Minghao to read the contents of the page. Neatly written notes, all containing information on this supposed poltergeist, seemingly pretty new. Most hunters had their own collection of notes about different creatures and monsters, but Minghao had to hand it to Seungkwan; he was thorough.

“If this goddamned poltergeist kills you,” Seungkwan turns his attention to you, pointing a long, thin finger in your direction. Minghao barely pays attention to the conversation, too busy scanning over the notes in front of him. “I will fucking murder you.” You laughed. Minghao’s ears turned red.

The poltergeist did not, in fact, kill you. Or Minghao, for that matter, but then that didn’t seem to be Seungkwan’s priority. It did, however, turn out to be more a pain than either you or Minghao had expected, and when you finally collect your bounty, you look utterly knocked out.

That didn’t stop you from making Minghao join you at the local pub for celebratory drinks after a job well done.

”Seungkwan doesn’t get to join,” you’d said, a smile toying with the edges of your lips. “No labor, no drinks.”

You told him why Seungkwan was so freaked out by a mere poltergeist; turns out his family comes from a long line of psychics. Which, with all the perks Minghao had always imagined psychics to have; telepathy, communicating with spirits and easier exorcisms, also came with quite the downside - they were deeply connected to the other world, and much easier to possess.

”We had a run-in with a nasty spirit last year,” you explained, pulling down the the neck of your sweater to show Minghao a gruesome scar across your shoulder blade. “He’s refused to work with spirits ever since.”

Minghao supposed there was more to people than meets the eye.

The rest of the night would remain a blur to him, but he thinks it must have been the alcohol coursing through his system that had urged him to place his hands on your hips, pushing you against the cold concrete of the alley you’d snuck off to and pressing his lips against yours.

He wouldn’t remember much in the morning, but not even a blow to the head could make him forget the soft moan from your mouth when he pressed against you, licked at your lips, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. He swore he could feel the remnants of your fingers in his hair even days later.

It might not have been love at first sight, but -

it was pretty damn close.

"You and Soonyoung have gotten worse,” you suddenly observe, as the two of you are driving to the crossroad where Hoseok resides. It’s a long ride, and not one Minghao wants to spend talking about Soonyoung. He exhales sharply through his nose. You toy with the hem of the sweater - Minghao’s sweater - you’re wearing.

“Things have been… tense.. these last six months,” he responds vaguely, keeping his eyes on the road. You scoff.

“You’ve been tense for ages. That was something else.”

Minghao chews on his bottom lip. “We had some disagreements after you died, I don’t really want to talk about it.” It’s the most genuine thing he can think of to say; just the thoughts brings images of accusations of betrayal, venomous words and almost-fist fights, and in the few moments when Minghao is not pissed off at Soonyoung, he misses his friend.

“Fine,” you relent, moving restlessly in your seat. “Let’s talk about something else, then. Where’s Seungkwan?”

Minghao’s stomach drops. He knew you would ask, because of course you would ask about Seungkwan. But he doesn’t know how much you know, what you remember from dying, and he certainly does not know what to say about your best friend.

You feel that reluctance, he thinks, because your voice is hard when you speak again. “Minghao. Where’s Seungkwan?”

Minghao clears his throat. “What do you remember from-” he halts, something dark and painful blocking his throat. He hates this, hates asking you about it. He knew he’d have to, at some point, but it seems like time really is not on his side. “From that night?” he finishes.

For a moment, only the sound of the engine fills Minghao’s ears. He glances over at you, finding you staring wistfully out the side window. Your lips are just a grim line, your eyebrows knit together, hands grasping at each other in your lap. It’s an automatic impulse when he reaches over to take your hand, but he’s happy to see that your own actions seem to be automatic as well, taking both of your own hands and enveloping his in them.

“He knows it’s not his fault, right?” your voice is quiet, a complete contrast to the vice-like grip you have on his hand, and Minghao supposes that’s a good an answer as any.

“He didn’t take it well,” he admits, thinking about a pretty, blond boy with an aristocratic face, a man who always found the time for snappy comebacks and awful jokes. Minghao doesn’t think, even with your resurrection, that Seungkwan will ever be the same person again.

“Doesn’t he want to see me?” you mutter, for the first time letting insecurity coat your voice. Minghao knows you’re self-conscious, that the whole thing terrifies you. He’s seen the way you look at yourself in the mirror sometimes, as if you’re scared you’ll fall apart or worms will start crawling out of your ears. He squeezes your hand.

“He loves you. Of course he wants to see you. He’s not sure you want to see him.”

You sigh, a tired sound, and close your eyes and lean your head against the window. “Let’s just get this meeting over with. I want to go home.”

Minghao could not agree more.

You’re both faced with the crossroad demon an hour later, the sun setting in the distance and coating the road in orange-red light that reflects prettily in the demon’s hair. He’d look almost ethereal, Minghao thinks, if he wasn’t so sinister.

The demon tilts his head, scans you up and down a few times with a pondering hum. Minghao steps closer, fingers itching to grab onto you.

“So,” Hoseok muses, a finger coming up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “This is what has the whole underworld quaking in their boots? I can’t say I get it.”

You shrug your shoulders, putting on a face of pure disinterest. You never did have much tolerance for demons, especially not the ones who took on human hosts. “I can’t say I do either.”

Hoseok chuckles. “At least she’s spunky,” he says. “I like that.” He takes a step closer, and Minghao takes a protective step on his own to stand in front of you. The demon laughs, waves a long hand in your direction. “Come on,” he says. “As if I would’ve exhausted my abilities and angered the underworld just to hurt her now. You’re both safe here. For now.”

“We were told you had information for us,” you press a hand against Minghao’s arm, both a reassuring gesture, and a show of confidence; a subtle way of letting Hoseok know that you don’t need protection. It’s a pointless gesture, Minghao thinks, you have his protection whether you want it or not, but he lets it slide. “I’m sure you want something for it.”

“Your boys have been quite resolute in their keeping of their promise to me,” the demon hums, hands in his pockets. “As such, this one’s on me.”

He looks up at the darkening sky. “Have you ever heard of the creatures called rakshasa?”

Minghao has not, surprisingly enough, but the way you stiffen besides him tells him you have. He thinks about the small, leather notebook stuffed into a backpack, about elegant fingers flipping through pages at an alarming speed.

“A chaos demon?” You ask, voice this close to trembling. Your grip on Minghao’s arm tightens. “What does that have to do with me?”

Hoseok tsk’s. “A chaos demon, indeed. One that was none too pleased with being mistaken for a simple poltergeist and attempted exorcised.”

It hits you both, it seems, at the same time. The first job you did together, that haunted house in a town long forgotten. Seungkwan’s insistent reluctance and the strange incidents that did not seem like a simple ghost. You look at each other.

“Ah, looks like it rings a bell. Rakshasa are stubborn things, they latch onto hate like vermin,” Hoseok’s voice does not match his words; he sounds irreverent, as if he’s talking about a dear friend rather than a vengeful spirit. “Above all else,” he continues. “They adore the chase. The pain of ripping someone away from their loved ones. And killing his target by the hands of their best friend? Masterful.”

Fear courses through Minghao’s veins. Hoseok has been nothing but pleasant, if a bit creepy, up until now, but Minghao should not have forgotten that they were dealing with a demon. The crossroad demon’s eyes glint, blood red light shining at you both like a laser.

“Good luck with this one,” he says with a bow and a wink. “You’re going to need it.”

The demon disappears with the last few beams of sunlight.

The night you died had been a cold one, air visible as it left your mouths. teeth clattering and bodies shaking. You had been scouting; you, Minghao, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, looking for a group of werewolves that had reportedly disappeared in the area.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a low-risk mission. Recon.

But then the black fog came.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy, dark smog had seeped over you from between the trees, covering the entire area and the sky above you in darkness. Minghao had lost track of you, stretching his arms around and calling your name to no avail. His heart hammered in his chest. He was enveloped in silence, his yells not even creating an echo. For a moment he thought he might have gone blind.

And then he smelled fire.

He didn’t see it at first, the black fog so overwhelmingly dark and thick that it might have even blocked the smell, had it not come from somewhere nearby. He felt it, before he even saw it; hot and scalding on his skin, scorching the hair on his arm and licking at his side. He’d yelped, jumping away from the vicious flames.

That’s when he’d really started to worry.

He found Soonyoung first, nursing a burnt arm not too far from him. It might have been to his left, or maybe directly behind him, Minghao couldn’t be sure. Had he just been fighting with his friend earlier that day? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Soonyoung was safe, second degree burns aside, but neither of them could find your or Seungkwan.

The first wraith showed itself by clawing down his back, ribboning both his jacket and the skin on his back, and Minghao had to bite down on his tongue to contain the scream that tore at his throat. He could worry about that later.

He swore he’d been walking for hours, using nothing but his hands and his sense of direction - stunted as it was with the wraiths and the flames and the fog - before he finally heard it; your voice, muted by the thickness of the fuck and the sizzling of flames, but somehow still clear as day in his ears.

“Seungkwan, please,” you’d pleaded, desperation tinting your voice and pain edging your syllables. “Seungkwan. Listen to me. You’re stronger than this.”

Minghao followed your voice, heard it grow stronger, then weaker, then stronger again, cracking and wavering but repeating the same over and over. Seungkwan. Seungkwan. I love you, please come back to me.

A gunshot rung in Minghao’s ears, the familiar sound of the colt you kept on your person at all times, and Minghao can’t breathe.

It happened all at once; the fog lifted and the fire died, the wraiths stopped in their movements to float as yellow-eyed statues in the air. Minghao could see Soonyoung right behind him, covered in soot and ashes and gripping his arm with a grimace on his face.

And he could see Seungkwan in front of him, a ways away, on his knees. His hands were red, covered in blood, pressed against his face and spreading the liquid like war paint across his cheekbones. It took Minghao a moment to see the collapsed figure next to the blond.

It was such a strange moment; that tangible, real moment right before your world shatters and your heart breaks. That one second it takes for your head to catch up with your eyes and you realize that nothing will ever be the same. Minghao was standing behind Seungkwan before he could even register his legs moving. He looked down, observing the way Seungkwan’s shoulders were shaking, how his breaths were labored, course; as if it physically hurt to inhale or exhale.

The sounds were the worst of it, the broken sobs and whimpering, nonsensical words. Minghao could make out your name, a repeated mantra of no no no and please’s and i’m sorry’s but somehow the world seemed to be stuck in slow motion and he could not move.

“Fuck!” he heard from somewhere next to him. Or maybe it was above him, or behind him, or underneath him, Minghao couldn’t tell, couldn’t feel or see or hear anything. “Fuck!” the voice said again, louder this time. Someone gripped his shoulders. “What the fuck happened?!” Soonyoung - because it was Soonyoung, wasn’t it? - sounded as broken as Minghao felt. He wanted to throw up.

Your eyes were glassy, light already gone. A hand stretched out to reach for Seungkwan and the other clasping your chest. Everything was red.

You were gone.

Everything else is kind of a blur. There was a funeral, Minghao thinks, a modest thing attended by your shared friends. How long did it take for Seungkwan to start talking again? A month? Two? Minghao doesn’t remember, can’t find it in him to care.

He stares at photo albums and sleeps on the couch, cannot bear to sleep in the bed the two of you used to share. He works. Minghao works a lot. He hunts vampires and slays demons, but he doesn’t find whatever took you away from him.

He knows this, though; it’s Soonyoung who brings up the idea of resurrection, four months after your death.

“Crossroad demons,” he’d said, as it was the most obvious thing ever. As if Minghao hadn’t considered it ten times, as if he hadn’t already dabbled in failed attempts of blood magic or summoning spells. As if Seungkwan didn’t wander the halls on extra hard days, hoping pathetically that your spirit would somehow show up.

“What about them?” Jeonghan had offered when no one else responded to Soonyoung’s sudden exclamation.

“Don’t bother, Jeonghan,” Minghao had grumbled, tired of Soonyoung’s attempts. “He’s just talking shit. Crossroad demons are liars. They always find loopholes.”

“There’s this particular one,” Soonyoung continued as if Minghao never even spoke up. “He’s done it before. Joshua’s pal.”

They all knew who Soonyoung’s talking about; a young man Joshua introduced them to a few years ago out of nowhere. A pretty boy with a strong jaw and a wide smile, Minghao could not remember his name. But he could remember Joshua’s protective stance, the way he handled his friend like he was a porcelain doll.

“Vernon?” Jeonghan asked, and Minghao hummed. That was his name. Vernon. He didn’t look particularly dead, he thought.

“He was killed by a river spirit five years ago,” Soonyoung explained, hope woven into his voice. “Joshua got him back from a crossroad demon named Hoseok, and he didn’t have to give his soul for it.”

“What did he give, then?” Minghao asked, heart pounding in spite of his skepticism. Minghao wouldn’t trust Soonyoung with deal-making, not even back when they were close friends, but he would trust Joshua.

“Apparently he asks for different things for every deal. It’s worth a shot.”

Three weeks and an abundance of hotels later, Minghao finally succeeds in bringing you home. You’ve made a dozen stops on the way, gathering information and collecting tools for killing a chaos demon. You don’t know much more, honestly, but Minghao has finally managed to teach you how to use weapons again, and you can dress yourself and eat normally, so he counts it as a success.

When you come home, Minghao barely sees you for three days, people running down your doors half the time, and you running around the other half. Soonyoung comes the first day, hugs you too tight and for too long, making Minghao’s skin itch. Jeonghan drops by the same afternoon, offering soothing words and soft touches that seem to calm you more than Minghao has been able to since you came back.

Chan, who had been away from the country for almost a year when he learned about you death, is a mess of tears and loud sobs when he comes to visit. Minghao doesn’t mind, because you laugh as the younger man leaves still in tears two hours later. A true laugh, a bubbly thing that reminds him of tickle fights and lazy Sundays, that reminds him that there’s still hope for the two of you.

You still haven’t talked, not properly, since the bathtub incident. He’s awkward around you, fear of rejection seeping into his pores with each passing day. You seem to be returning to normal, weight returning to normal when you’re finally able eat again, hair more vibrant after Mingyu cuts it for you after returning home. The only thing that’s missing is some sort of acknowledgement that your emotions have returned. They must have, he thinks, because you sometimes absentmindedly clasp his hands or curl up next to him on the couch, but the part of him that’s scared and insecure can’t be sure.

He understands, now, that strong sense of protectiveness that seems to pour out of Joshua around Vernon.

You finally gather the courage to visit Seungkwan on the dawn of the third day. Minghao has asked around, knows that the man is home with the remainder of his family, back in the house he grew up in. You’re scared, Minghao can tell, because you keep procrastinating. He almost has to physically drag you out before you agree to visit your best friend, the man who killed you.

Minghao doesn’t see you at all that day, besides the glimpse he caught through a window when he gets a bit worried and decides to snoop. He finds you and Seungkwan in the garden of his home, both asleep on the lawn, hands entwined. He had forgotten, he realizes, what Seungkwan’s face looked like without grief etched into his features.

He lets you sleep, lets you enjoy the moment of piece. You’ve both deserved it.

The question comes on the fourth day home; a month after your resurrection.

”Minghao,” you murmur from the bed, when you’re about to go to sleep that evening. He’s standing by the closet, t-shirt in his hand, and he turns to look at you when he hears his name. You look unsure, sort of, as if you’re afraid to say what you intended to.

”What?” he urges, voice carefully blank. You exhale through your nose, Minghao can see you swallow nervously.

”Do you think I’m repulsive?”

Out of all the things Minghao could’ve imagined you would say, that might’ve been the last. For a moment he just stares, eyes wide and unblinking, as you twist the fabric of the blanket around your fingers nervously, avoids eye contact. The words fall out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them.

”What the fuck?”

You frown, knuckles turning white, and it seems like you have to work against quite a bit of reluctance to get the next words out of your mouth. “You haven’t kissed me once since I came back.”

You don’t have to tell him that; Minghao’s basically been counting the days, staring at your lips and struggled against the want to kiss you, or hug you, or pull you into him when you sleep at night. But -

”You said you didn’t-”

”I know what I said,” you cut him off, some of the usual spike returning to your voice. “Do you know what I’m saying now?” You emphasize every word, staring him right in the eyes. Minghao drops the t-shirt he’s holding, takes a few long steps until he’s right next to you and you have to look up to keep eye contact with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You shiver in response, hands gripping the sheets. Minghao’s fingers twitch.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You echo, and it becomes apparent for Minghao that you’ve been just as unsure as him. He doesn’t understand why, would have teased you for it if he hadn’t been literally seconds away from combusting on the spot. Instead, he gives in, decides to give you the answer you seem to need to hear.

“Every second of every goddamned day.”

Your mouth twitches, and you pause for a moment. “Even if I was dead a month ago?”

Minghao feels dumb, then, because it’s so obvious in retrospect. The way you’re always obsessively looking at yourself in the mirror and spraying yourself with perfumes, brushing your teeth at odd hours of the day. All this time he’s been worrying about you not loving him anymore, and you’ve been worried about whether or not he finds you attractive anymore.

“Even if you’d been dead yesterday I’d still want to kiss you,” he mutters, and it’s the weirdest compliment he’s ever given. You must think it’s strange as well, because you laugh at that. A full, body shaking, thigh-slapping laugh, such a pure and beautiful sound that Minghao wants to swallow it.

So he does. He leans down until he can grab your face and press his lips against yours. A second before he does, he thinks he should take it slow, let you set the speed, but as soon as he feels the soft plumpness of your lips on his own, he’s lost. Seven months of yearning, of dreaming and missing and fantasizing spills into the kiss, and he can’t be sure if you pull him into the bed or if he merely just falls into it out of sheer need to be close to you.

Whatever the case, you catch him; wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into you, nails digging into his skin and teeth possessively biting into his lip. There’s nothing gentle about it, not about the way his hands glide over your body or about the way you press your pelvis against his, making him groan. It’s a mess of arms and legs and heavy breaths along hot skin, teeth against the pulse in your neck, long fingers pulling at his hair, and when you finally stop to breathe, your lips are swollen and red.

You take his hand, place it in between your breasts, right over your heart. He feels the beats, so fast they’re almost irregular, thumping against the palm of his hand and vibrating through his arm. They echo the strong, rapid beats of his own heart hammering against his ribs, and for some reason that makes him want to cry.

“I love you,” you murmur, your hands squeezing his. He thinks he might feel your heart speed up a notch. “I love you so, so much. I can’t believe you got me back.”

Because you truly are back, he understands, as he feels the rhythm of your heart. You’re alive and well, lying next to him in the bed you picked out together, declaring a love that comes not only from knowledge of it’s existence, but the actual emotion itself.

Minghao feels like he might burst.

His next kiss is a much slower one. “I love you,” he says, whispered words against your lips. “Not even the four horsemen of the apocalypse could keep me from getting you back.”

There’s still a demon to slay, Minghao knows, and they are nowhere near in the clear yet. But as you sleep next to him, breathing lightly against his skin, Minghao feels confident. If not even death could keep the two of you apart, the demon has no fucking chance.

Minghao falls asleep, and he has no nightmares.

#svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #the8 x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

80 notes · View notes