#and doesn’t comfort them the same ways previous doctors did or whatever

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 26

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Nicky can’t help but bounce his legs as they sit in the waiting room at the hospital. He’s had to leave the waiting room a couple times already because in Aaron’s effort to comfort him, and wow how far they’ve come he’s really raised Aaron to be such a thoughtful young man, the jackass has unknowingly made four more Miss Congeniality references.

This is a waiting room full of nervous families and Nicky is NOT about to be the guy who can’t stop laughing because Aaron mentioned World Peace in a snapback at Kevin.

Nicky is not going to be the one to explain FF’s jokes. He MAY already be planning a Miss Congeniality movie night. Neil, Aaron, and Kevin may not remember but ANDREW will and watching Andrew realize his friend was referencing an AMAZING movie when talking about how he took out one of the FBIs most wanted was all he wanted at the moment.

Another nurse comes in and calls out “Elias Smith?” But Wymack doesn’t get up from his seat still sipping his now lukewarm coffee. There’s been 14 different times she’s called for a ‘Smith’ family but Wymack hasn’t moved for any of them and different waiting families have gotten up to get updates and taken back to see their family members.

Maybe he wants to see Andrew’s face a little less than he wants to see FF’s right now. He has his flowers on a chair next to him and a get well soon card that he’d had Wymack also sign. He was waiting for Smith’s grandma to come to see if she wanted in on some card real estate

“Seriously, how many Smiths got stabbed yesterday?” Kevin marvels.

“At this point it’s at least 12.” Aaron remarks.

“I’m at 14 not including Smithy.” Nicky says.

“At least we’ll finally get to find out Smith’s first name.” Kevin crosses his arms and leans back heavily into the chair, “I’m hungry.” He whines.

“Yeah, at least there’s that.” Nicky agrees because not knowing FF’s name at this point made him feel like an incredibly BAD friend. Even mores than the fact that Nicky raised the man that stabbed FF last night. He turns his thoughts away from those thoughts, “You wouldn’t be hungry if you hadn’t bitched about the breakfast burritos I had us pick up.” Nicky argues.

“It was greasy! I’m already slipping on my diet after Thanksgiving and eating that pie.” Kevin argues back.

Nicky can’t help but think of Kevin as a pageant contestant in that moment.

Nicky looks heavenward for the strength not to laugh.

“Then go get something.” Aaron says from Nicky’s side, “There’s gotta be a cafeteria or something around here.” Aaron adds.

“I don’t want to go alone.” Kevin shoots back and Nicky can HEAR Aaron roll his eyes.

“Fine, whatever I need more coffee anyways. Let’s go find a cafeteria.” Aaron says getting up and Nicky looks at his cousin, “Text us if you get a room number.” He says.

“Will do.” Nicky agrees.

Then it was two.

It’s about five minutes before, “David Wymack?”

Nicky’s head shoots to Wymack and he sees the smug amusement on their coach’s face.

That motherfucker.

Nicky followed Wymack up to the doctor in question. “How’s he doing?” Wymack asks.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” The doctor says and Nicky feels his stomach sink into his toes.

***

Neil has NEVER been more relieved to be out of a car and that includes the ones Lola had him in (though that might be because being out of those cars meant he was closer to his death by way of Nathan).

Granny Smith had not spoken a word unprompted since they had climbed into the car. Granny Smith had the exact same expressionless face as her grandson did but it is only now that Neil realizes that there was always some hint of emotion on FF’s face. Neil wasn’t great at knowing exactly what those emotions were but they were there.

Granny Smith’s rage was pretty hard to miss.

“I think she knows.” Andrew had said with his hands white knuckled at 10 and 2.

“How could she?” Neil questions. “Smith’s phone fell in that toilet before he got stabbed.” He says but he can feel the anger and can feel it directed towards them.

She had seemed so nice with Paul!

Though Paul didn’t have anything to do with her grandson getting stabbed. Neil could understand how that might sour any niceness.

Neil and Andrew had pulled into the parking lot and it was only then that Granny Smith leaned forward and pointed towards the entrance.

Words weren’t really necessary then.

Before Neil could even try and trudge through offering to bring her bag to her the woman was out of the back of the Maserati and through the sliding doors of the hospital.

“Maybe…maybe she’s just like that? Smith likes to sit in silence too?” Neil tries but Andrew doesn’t say anything as he turns the Maserati into the parking lot to find a space.

They walked in only to find the receptionist looking confusedly at Granny Smith as the woman spoke in rapid Polish but was getting nowhere.

Neil watched as Andrew squared his shoulders and walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around she the fear and anger shown through in her expression. Neil could understand in a way. FF was her grandson and considering the fact that FF had likely gotten his interest in languages from learning Polish from her?

They’re probably close.

Neil is pretty sure that normal close family members worry like this.

Almost positive.

He may not have the best examples in his own life but he has watched enough television and enough movies to start to see what might be considered normal!

Really!

Anyways…

Andrew points towards the doors that would lead them towards the elevator that they could take up to the waiting room.

Neil watches as Granny Smith visibly struggles before nodding. Andrew holds out his hand and she stares at it before Andrew points at her bag.

She blinks, looking taken aback.

“I can carry it.” He offers.

It’s a few moments of looking between Andrew’s face and his hand before she hands over her bag.

Andrew puts it over his shoulder and the three of them silently made their way up. The elevator ride was slightly less excruciating than the car ride but only just.

They got off and saw Nicky, Wymack, and a Doctor.

“…so he may not wake up.” Neil hears and watches as Andrew’s shoulders go instantly tense and Neil feels his own heart jump into his throat.

Then Nicky laughs.

“Of course he’s sleepy!” Nicky throws his head back.

“Yes, he had a high level of cortisol, that’s the stress hormone, in his blood. He should wake up either late today or early tomorrow though.” The Doctor says.

“Oh thank GOD.” Nicky says with a relieved slump to his shoulders, “You really gotta work on how you start conversations like this Doc! I thought you were going to tell me Smithy died not that he’s just going to sleep like the dead for at least 18 more hours!” Nicky exclaims before his gaze slides off of the Doctor and onto their group. “Oh!” Nicky moves past the Doctor and stops in front of them. “You must be Smithy’s grandma!” He says and offers his hand like the sweet respectable young man that Nicky absolutely isn’t.

“Nicky, she doesn’t-“

“Ty musisz być Nicky! Jesteś taki przystojny, tak jak powiedział mój kurczaczek.” Granny Smith knocks his hand away and pinches his cheek. Nicky visibly melts at the warm tonę even if he doesn’t know what is being said to him.

“Oh!” Nicky says, “I hope I don’t butcher this, Dziękuję! Uwielbiałem Pani ciasto!” He says haltingly before pausing, “Nazywa go Pani swoim kurczakiem? Jakie to słodkie!” he says but this time his enthusiasm has the language come out more smoothly.

Granny Smith seems to light up even more. “Czyż nie?”

“Nicky, since when did you know Polish?” Andrew asks brows raised slightly in shock.

“What? You two aren’t the only ones who decided to learn a cute foreign language so you could have secret couple conversations.” Nicky huffs frowning at the two of them, “Erik’s company has an office in Poland, he thinks it might be fun to try living there for a while so we’ve been learning the last year and a half.” Nicky says, “Smithy’s been such a huge help on it too!” He adds.

Neil opens his mouth, thinks about it, and closes it.

That’s fair.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

EDIT: 6/8/23: Thanks @shirlai​ for fixing my janky Polish for Nicky!

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @fuckyeahjeanmoreau @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​ @percabethotplove​ @cozyrosykay​ @foxyatlas​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Also if anyone fluent in Polish wants to correct me on any of the Polish wants to correct me / sends smoother Polish please do! I am just using Google Translate for GS.

Translations:

Ty musisz być Nicky! Jesteś taki przystojny, tak jak powiedział mój kurczaczek. = “You must be Nicky! You're so handsome, just like my chicken said.”

“Dziękuję! Uwielbiałem Pani ciasto!” = “Thank you! I loved your pie!”

“Nazywa go Pani swoim kurczakiem? Jakie to słodkie!” = “You call him your chicken? That’s so cute!”

“Czyż nie?” = “Isn’t it?”

#Fluent Freshman AU #Phew! #Finally got this one out #You might be wondering #Where did Aaron and Kevin go? #The answer is that Kevin saw the nutrition office #and was compelled to go ask for advice #Aaron left him there because he needs to find the cafeteria to get coffee #What happens first #Will Aaron get back to Kevin before the nutritionist runs out of patience? #Tune in to find out #Is Nicky about to experience the highs and lows of having a loving grandma? #Yes #Will Neil and Andrew get to experience those same highs and lows? #time will tell #It's me #I'm time #I will tell #I do think it's funny that I start feeling bad when I don't update this #and it's been like 4 days since the last update #which is not all that long ago #The OCD completionist that I am is taking a lot of joy just minesweeping the map in tears of the kingdom #I am one of those psychos that has to get all the korok seeds #I still have not progressed the plot #but I am free #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG #Andreil #My Fics

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch2

“Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read chapter one here. this part won’t make sense, otherwise! :$ 

[ao3 version of the fic]

reader’s pronouns are unspecified but masa-intended. 

warnings: canon-typical violence & gore, spoilers to the first few episodes

You wake to find yourself resting on the plush sofa in the living room. You’re in virtually the same position as before, except there’s a woolen blanket tossed over you. It takes you several seconds to process everything and, once you do, you freeze. Your unintentional adventure onto the middle of the road, Hannibal’s rather convenient appearance, your trip back to Hannibal’s home. And…  

Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. You take a deep breath in, not very fond of the way your heart is racing. You were entirely vulnerable last night; he could’ve killed you with ease. That begs the question: Why didn’t he? Why didn’t Hannibal take the opportunity to take you out? Surely, the FBI being close on his trail must be aggravating. Then again, the Ripper has always acted as if he’s several steps ahead of everyone else (and, unfortunately, he often is). You ponder the thought for a moment longer, before quickly distracting yourself. You don’t want to think about it for a while—it’s too disturbing to contemplate so early in the morning.

Once you feel slightly better—you’re not sure if you’ll ever grow truly comfortable with the events of the past night—you get to your feet and pace around the room. Honestly, you’re not entirely familiar with the layout of Hannibal’s home. Plus, you hadn’t exactly had the chance to look around last night. There’s a door off to the side that must lead to the kitchen. You hesitate for a few seconds, before shaking your head, clasping the doorknob, and twisting it open. The door falls open to reveal a beautiful kitchen. You’re then struck with the uncanny resemblance to a theater. Perhaps that was the idea. Cooking is a performance to Hannibal, after all.

“What did you put in that tea?” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. Hannibal stands with his back to you, but he quickly turns upon hearing you enter. He’s wearing a suit already. You feel immensely underdressed, in your filthy pajamas from the previous night. You resolutely pretend not to look as uncomfortable as you feel.

“Good morning to you, too,” Hannibal responds, an amused expression on your face. His sleeves are rolled up as he continues to prepare whatever he’s making. You can’t shake the belief that he must be absolutely furious with you. Hannibal values his privacy, his space, and you’re intruding on it. You’re not quite sure why he hasn’t killed you yet.

“I’m serious,” you frown. The thought hadn’t graced your mind until now, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of it. How did you fall asleep so quickly last night? You were extremely fatigued, of course. However, you suspect Hannibal had something to do with it, too. “What was in the tea?”

“Chamomile,” Hannibal answers with a helpless expression. You’re not convinced, not even when he’s smiling like that. He walks out to the dining room and you follow behind him.“Breakfast?” You warily glance down at the plate on the table, only to find an innocent enough egg scramble. It’s reminiscent of what you ate that one morning in the motel, except without the suspicious meat. You have to consciously push away the thought—the likelihood that the meat was from one of the Ripper’s recent victims. The egg scramble today doesn’t have meat—at least, not that you can see. You inhale slowly and sit down at the place he’s set for you.

“No suitable candidates for meat?” You can’t help but snipe. It takes your mind a few minutes to recognize the fact that you have no power in this situation and, thus, you shouldn’t be pushing the limits. You chance a glance up at Hannibal, fully prepared to see an irritated expression. Instead, all you see is amusement and intrigue. You’re not sure which expression is more dangerous.

“The harvest wasn’t quite bountiful,” Hannibal responds. How on earth hadn’t you made the connection to the Chesapeake Ripper sooner? Hannibal is constantly making those kinds of comments—allusions that just barely scrape the surface of his true actions. Before, you merely thought him to be an eccentric European. Now, you can’t help but think that his eccentricities mask his brutalities–his actions as a killer.

“You garden?” You say, instead of throwing out the accusation you know to be true. If Hannibal wants to play this game, then so be it. You take a bite of the egg scramble, unsurprised that it turns out to be quite good. Hannibal is an excellent cook—at least, when he isn’t putting people on the menu.

“Occasionally,” Hannibal remarks loftily. He finishes chewing and levels you with a strange look. “Nothing measures up to the quality of homegrown herbs.” You let out a breath through your nose, hiding a full laugh. Of course, Hannibal is pretentious about his herbs. That makes complete sense. You wisely keep quiet and take another bite of your food, making sure to compliment Hannibal on his cooking skills. He really is quite good.

“I was hoping you could drive me back to the institute,” you say, once the two of you have finished breakfast. You feel guilty about asking so much of Hannibal but, then again, he insisted that you come with him to his residence. “I don’t have my car, so…”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods, making your doubts diminish. You exhale slowly. You aren’t sure why you worked yourself up so much over that simple question. The clatter of plates draws you out of that spiraling thought process and you watch as Hannibal moves to stack his dishes.

“Here, let me,” you say before he can object. You quickly take his dishes and walk them over to the sink. Thankfully, there aren’t too many dishes—just yours and his. You find a strange-looking brush and internally hope it’s a sponge, before drowning it in soap and attacking the plates. Silence settles in the space as you busy yourself with the dishes. Hannibal walks over to you and leans against the counter a few feet from the sink. He levels you with an inquisitive gaze.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, once the staring begins to stress you out. You steadily focus on the running water, the dirty plates, anything but Hannibal’s keen eyes. Droplets of water fall down your skin as you steadily wash the last remaining dish, shelving it to put away later.

“I’d like to accompany you on your next assignment.” That completely throws you off. You don’t hesitate to ask for an explanation, which Hannibal doesn’t exactly provide. Instead, he paces around for a moment before leveling you with a weighted gaze. “Only if you’re amenable, of course.”

“Okay,” you decide to say, instead of arguing like you want to. Hannibal doesn’t typically budge when his mind is made up. Ironically, it appears as if Hannibal expected you to argue, because he raises his eyebrows for a second. You decide to ignore that. “Before we go… Do you have any clothes I could borrow?”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods. You want to feel self conscious, but it’s a bit too late for that. You’ve been wearing your dirty pajamas since the night before, so the psychiatrist has already seen them. Hannibal leaves the room with the promise of bringing you sufficient attire. You just hope that the clothes aren’t extravagant.

Hannibal returns moments later with a neatly folded pile of clothing in his hands. He offers you the clothes and you take them. You hardly get the chance to unfold them before you’re freezing to stare up at your psychiatrist. “Um, Hannibal?”

“Yes?” Hannibal asks casually, calm and composed as always. Silence descends in the air, creating a thick tension that you’re scared to break through.  

“I didn’t mean you had to give me nice clothes,” you manage to say, looking at the dress shirt and pants he’s provided you. Thankfully, it appears he’s given you something that he hasn’t worn before. Unfortunately, though, your build isn’t quite the same as Hannibal’s. You lament the thought as Hannibal responds to your remark.

“Nonsense,” Hannibal shakes his head. There’s clearly something he’s refraining from telling you, because his lips part for a moment as if to speak. The psychiatrist then shakes his head. You shrug silently, glancing around the space. There’s a hallway off to the side and you take a step in that direction.

“I’ll change and then… we can go?” Hannibal nods and you duck into the nearest room, closing the door behind you. Upon closer examination, you realize that it’s a linen closet. However, it’s not like a typical linen closet—a bureau or dresser; instead, it’s an entire room. You exhale slowly and put on the clothes he’s given you. Unsurprisingly, they don’t fit quite right. However, they’re still leagues ahead of the dirty pajamas you’d been wearing before. You take a moment to fix up your appearance before stepping back out into the hallway.

Hannibal turns around when he evidently hears you exit the linen closet. There’s a satisfied expression on his face. You hastily button the sleeves and straighten out your shirt – well, his shirt (that you’re wearing). Before you can adjust the fabric more, Hannibal leans closer and smoothing out your collar. You send him a grateful smile that you hope will hide your anxiety at his proximity. Thankfully, he’s backing away before long and the two of you are free to walk out to his driveway. Hannibal pauses for a moment and you just narrowly avoid running into him.

“Shit, sorry,” you murmur, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. The man walks to the passenger side first and opens the car door for you. You move to sit and Hannibal looks down at you from where he’s standing.

“Apologizing again?” There’s an abstruse smile on his face as he speaks. You roll your eyes.

“I wasn’t aware this was a therapy session,” you reply with a wan smile. Hannibal shakes his head in amusement, walking back to the driver’s side and getting in. Luckily, the ensuing car ride is smooth and painless. Before long, the two of you are at the crime scene that Jack summoned you to. You exit the car and take the lead, leaving Hannibal to follow behind you. Jack is standing off to the side with a concentrated expression on his face. You greet him and he snaps out of his reverie. It seems like your boss is about to say something to you when his gaze suddenly falls to the space next to you.

“Ah, Doctor Lecter,” Jack smiles thinly. “What a pleasant surprise.” The look on Jack’s face suggests that it isn’t, in fact, a pleasant surprise. You can’t say you’re terribly surprised at that development.

“Hello, Jack,” Hannibal responds amicably. You can’t quite elucidate the expression on his face. “I must insist that you call me Hannibal.” The man smiles charmingly, a gesture that would work on most people. Unfortunately for him, Jack Crawford isn’t most people. You resist a laugh at the annoyance that just barely shows through on your boss’s face.

“Hannibal, then; what brings you here?” Jack looks at Hannibal warily. Just before the psychiatrist can respond, you decide to interject.

“I brought him,” you blurt out before your brain can catch up. Jack blinks at you in confusion. You chance a glance at Hannibal and raise your eyebrows at him, trying to telepathically communicate that he should go along with it. The man nods ever so slightly. “I figured we could use the help.” Jack assesses you for a second.

“Don’t distract my best agent,” Jack then warns Hannibal. You immediately grimace, knowing that the statement is entirely unnecessary. The likelihood of Hannibal distracting anyone working is slim to none. Also, wait... Jack considers you his best agent? That’s certainly unexpected.

Thankfully, Hannibal doesn’t seem to be too bothered by Jack’s remark. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he expected a warning along those lines. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannibal remarks smoothly. You decide to walk down the path towards the house, Hannibal in tow. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his unanswered questions lingering in the air. You take a deep breath.

“Jack gets antsy at crime scenes,” you explain, trying to contextualize why you lied about being the one to bring Hannibal along, when, in all reality, it was Hannibal’s idea. You shove your hands in your pockets, feeling the need to find something to channel your restless energy into. “I’m used to being on the receiving end of his rather short fuse.”

“Interesting,” Hannibal muses, falling into step next to you, “I wouldn’t have gathered that from our interaction. He seems to think rather highly of you.” You chuckle wryly under your breath.

“Lord knows why,” you mutter, continuing to walk towards the house. You don’t intend for your comment to be perceived, but Hannibal seems to hear it regardless. You fidget and ignore the discomfort tugging at your core.

“As a friend, I must point out that you’re quite skilled in the field,” Hannibal remarks, to your utter surprise. It takes all of your energy to maintain a neutral expression. Despite your efforts, your eyes widen. “Jack likely appreciates your work etiquette and talent.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” you frown, letting your gaze fall to the cobbled path below your feet. You kick at one of the upended rocks and it goes skittering along in front of you. Hannibal is your psychiatrist—he’s supposed to say things like that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.” Hannibal’s expression suggests that this won’t be the last time you have this conversation. You resist a shudder at that, imagining sitting in Hannibal’s office and being forced to pick apart your self-deprecation. 

You finally enter the house and begin to wind through the halls, listening for voices. Eventually, you manage to find the scene of the crime: the master bedroom. The victim’s corpse lies against the mattress. Their blood seeps through the white sheets and spreads out around them, creating a puddled effect. Perhaps the most noticeable thing, however, is the gruesome way in which the victim’s chest is torn open, leaving the organs on display for all to see. You don’t realize that you’re blocking the doorway until Hannibal places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Following his movement, you step aside to let him in. There’s no trace of emotion anywhere on Hannibal’s face as he takes in the corpse of the victim.

“Hey!” Beverly greets you, breaking you out of your thoughts. The agent gets to her feet and grabs her clipboard. You greet Beverly in response. She smiles at you, then looks at Hannibal for a moment. Her gaze is scrutinizing and suspicious. “What’s he doing here?”

“Dr. Lecter, psychiatrist and former surgeon,” Hannibal introduces himself, before you can answer. “Please call me Hannibal.” Beverly raises an eyebrow at his outstretched hand but shakes it, albeit begrudgingly. You decide to interrupt before she can ask the question you’re expecting.

“He has clearance,” you say. Your comment goes mostly unnoticed, as Beverly and Hannibal appear to size each other up. Your two most terrifying acquaintances are now meeting. You begin to regret everything that’s led you to this moment.

“Former surgeon,” Beverly repeats, staring at Hannibal in disbelief. You look at your friend, begging her not to say what you think she’s about to say. Unfortunately, Beverly doesn’t seem to care about your distress. She swivels to focus her attention on Hannibal. “What, did you kill someone?”

“Bev,” you groan, wanting to bury your head in your hands. Beverly has never been quite good at filtering her thoughts—always saying whatever’s on her mind. Normally, that’s just one of the many things you love about her. Right now, however, you wish Beverly had a better filter.

“No, I did not,” Hannibal responds, his eyes glittering. There’s nothing but politeness in his frame, but you can sense an aura of irritation emanating from him. You resist the urge to laugh. You felt remarkably similar upon first meeting Beverly, because her blunt honesty can easily come across as rude.

“Well, since you have clearance, Lecter… I guess you can stay,” Beverly says to Hannibal. You chuckle under your breath at the way Beverly refuses to call him by his first name. The thinly concealed annoyance on Hannibal’s face is equally amusing. Beverly then turns to you. “Anyway. Time to do your thing?” Beverly asks. You nod and she walks over to Price and Zeller, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Let’s give him some space.” She sends you an understanding smile, which you return with an exasperated eye roll. Beverly then raises an eyebrow at Hannibal, evidently expecting him to leave with them. Your friend turns to you and squints between the two of you, before shrugging and taking her leave.

“I prefer to do this alone,” you murmur, after the weight of Hannibal’s gaze grows to be too much. The air between you feels charged and tense. You clench your fists at your sides and listen for his footsteps as he exits the room. You wait a few moments and turn around, only to find that the man hasn’t moved.

“I will not be a bother,” Hannibal says. You resist the compelling urge to argue. It’s not that big of a deal, really. It’ll make you uncomfortable, but you can still slip into the killer’s mind with someone else in the room. Besides, Hannibal is your psychiatrist, after all. Nothing he sees will disturb him.

“Fine,” you sigh. It’s not like Hannibal will witness much, anyway—other than you staring off into space. Resolved to your fate, you pinch the bridge of your nose. The pendulum swings before your eyes once more. You close your eyes and, when you open them again, the bedroom is empty.

The victim sits on the mattress, looking down at their phone. You approach them with a knife in hand. You’re not fond of guns—they create too much of a mess. You’re eerily silent, enough so that the victim doesn’t expect your appearance [they never do]. An unsettling prickling feeling runs down your skin, creating goosebumps and sending a shiver down your spine. For a second, you’re struck with the uncanny belief that the victim sees you for who you are. The sensation is gone a moment later, as you realize they still haven’t noticed your presence. Heart thudding loudly in your chest, you reach out and stab them in the back of the neck. The victim flails and you turn them around, shoving them into the mattress before stabbing them once more in the chest. They’re dead within a few seconds. The prickling feeling along your skin hasn’t gone away, even with their death. Weirdly enough, the victim almost looks at peace—if not for the wounds to the back of their neck and their chest. You plunge your trembling hands into their chest and pull. Their blood taints your skin a murky red. The victim is open and vulnerable; their organs are on display for all to see.

Something still isn’t right, though. Anger bubbling up in your chest, you rip their eyeballs out of their sockets. Blood seeps out of their eyes and you streak it downwards across their face—an uncanny resemblance to tears. You put your knife away and survey your masterpiece one last time. This is your design. You glance down at your hands, expecting to see them stained with crimson. They’re clean and unmarred. That’s strange.

“What do you see?” Hannibal asks. You can’t suppress a flinch as you’re roughly brought back to the present. You blink several times and shake your head to clear your thoughts. “See?” Your eyes take in the strange painting the killer has made: the blood streaked across the victim’s skin, the pathway to the heart being ripped right open. It doesn’t take long for you to come up with an answer.

“This killer is at a crossroads,” you frown. You can feel the emotion rolling off of this corpse and each mutilation feels symbolic of something. Even without slipping into the killer’s skin, you could see the anger, irritation, and discomfort. “He feels… vulnerable, perceived in ways he hasn’t been perceived before.”

“How do you reckon so?” Hannibal asks, a strange note of something intangible in his voice. You can’t quite tell, but his voice almost seems sharper. You push the thought aside; you have more things to worry about—namely, the murder scene in front of your very eyes.

“The chest is carved open, yet the heart is left entirely intact,” you tap your chin in contemplation as you look down at the corpse. “It’s unusual for the organs to remain, but that omission was a conscious decision. Furthermore, the eyes are gouged out. He could have left them as is, but he took an extra step and smeared the blood down the cheeks to resemble tears. It speaks of grief. Possibly, also, acceptance? I’m not really sure. This feels… weirdly intimate.”

“Intimate,” Hannibal repeats, evidently intrigued. You take a shuddering breath as the man takes a step further into the room and, subsequently, closer to you. “Few can see past the initial brutality of such an act.” He looks down at the victim’s body, entirely unperturbed. His eyes are fixed on the body like a moth drawn to a flame.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” you start, walking around to the side of the bed to look down at the victim. “This feels like a reckoning. The killer is coming to terms with who he is, while simultaneously reaching for something more. It’s a strange juxtaposition: contentment and yearning.”

“Incredible,” Hannibal whispers, his eyes wide with an unrecognizable emotion. The sight grows to be too much and you rip your eyes away. The room’s air feels heated and stifling all of a sudden. You feel at your temple, recognizing the beginning of a headache.

“I suppose it is, in a gruesome way,” you frown, taking a look at the victim one last time. There is a sort of absurd beauty in the way they are laid to rest. Their heart is no longer caged by ribs and skin—it is free to roam. There’s even a restful expression on their face. “I can certainly feel the emotion embedded in the details.”

“I was referring to you,” Hannibal murmurs, drawing you from your thoughts. You look over at him, only to be met with a gaze so intense that it nearly makes your knees buckle. You take a half-step backwards habitually, nearly knocking into the bedside table. The look on his face is nothing short of dangerous. Thankfully, you’re saved from responding by Beverly’s sudden entrance into the room.

“Find anything?” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You relay your findings to Beverly, Price, and Zeller, who all look significantly intrigued and disturbed at the same time. Price and Zeller then go over some of the forensic evidence they found. Eventually, the four of you decide to let Price and Zeller brief Jack on the new findings. Hannibal walks outside—evidently to get some fresh air—which leaves you and Beverly alone in the room.

“Hey, Bev, do you have aspirin?” You ask, feeling a familiar pulsing ache in your temple. You find that slipping into the mind of the killer often makes your head spin. It almost feels as if someone is hammering into your skull. You grasp the side table to steady yourself.

“Yeah,” Beverly nods, digging around in her satchel. You breathe a sigh of relief. “You gotta remember to bring some with you, dude.”

“I know,” you sigh heavily. Beverly then pulls out a capsule of aspirin. You smile gratefully and grab two pills, before handing it back to her. It takes you a moment to remember that you don’t have water. Thankfully, Beverly procures a water bottle for you–not without a remark about you being forgetful–and you take the pills.

“Anyway, what’s Lecter’s deal?” You frown at Beverly’s back. She’s bent over the victim’s body, evidently looking for traces of evidence left behind. You already have a bad feeling that she won’t be able to find anything. “He’s a little weird.”

“I’m a little weird, too,” you argue, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. Beverly’s gaze finally falls away from the victim and she stops bending down, instead looking at you for a moment. For a few seconds, the two of you are left staring at each other.  

“No, you’re very weird,” Beverly then counters, a mischievous smile on her face. You slap her shoulder playfully, which prompts her to let out a dramatic hiss of pain. “Whatever. As long as he doesn’t get in the way, I don’t really care.”

“That’s the Bev I know and love,” you grin. You take a peek out into the hallway, only to find that Hannibal is nowhere to be found. Shit, you realize. He was your ride. You bite your lip and turn to Beverly, who still looks rather proud of herself. “Hey, on an unrelated note… can you drive me home?”

“Wow, trying to flatter me into giving you a ride?” Beverly laughs. You realize your blunder and you quickly stammer out an apology, but your effort only makes Bev laugh harder. It takes a few moments for her to evidently catch her breath.  “I’m just messing with you; I should be able to drive you.”

“Awesome, thanks,” you reply breathlessly. “I’ll just need to speak to Jack and then I’ll be done.” Beverly nods and returns to her work. You’re sure that you could scream at her and she wouldn’t notice—that’s just how concentrated she gets at crime scenes. You decide to stick around for a while longer to conduct your own investigation. Together, the two of you spend an immeasurable amount of time performing tests and examining the corpse. You’re not even aware of time passing until Beverly’s phone goes off and she informs you that it’s getting late. This time, you walk out to meet Jack and deliver the news. You find your boss standing out in the front lawn, ordering some officers around. The poor guys, you shake your head in sympathy. Jack must sense your approach, because he turns around and levels you with an expectant gaze.

“Bev and I performed some tests,” you start, already dreading this conversation. You’ve learned that Jack has begun to expect far too much from you. You can always glean details from the killers, sure, but your method is far from perfect. There are always holes in the logic you acquire. “Ultimately, we’re looking for a middle-aged man. He works some sort of day job… maybe a businessman? He has a wife and a daughter.”

“That’s not enough,” Jack interjects predictably.

“It’s going to have to be,” you respond, staring back at him. Unfortunately, that’s all you found. Jack will have to make do with that information. More accurately, your team will have to make do with that information. You’re certain it won’t be long before you find the killer, though; Beverly, Price, and Zeller are all talented forensic experts. Jack seems to come to that same conclusion, although he clearly isn’t happy about it. Your boss asks you a few more questions—most of which you’re unable to answer—until he frees you from duty.

Finally, you can get back home. It’s been a long day. You take a few steps towards the front door of the home to get Beverly when you feel eyes digging into your back. You turn around instinctually, only to find Hannibal staring at you from his car. You return his gaze for a second, before realizing that he seems to be summoning you closer. After walking over, you lean into the open window on the passenger side and grin awkwardly. Hannibal’s gaze shifts from you to the empty passenger seat of his car and you begin to connect the dots.

“Bev’s going to give me a ride…” You smile, resisting the urge to itch the back of your neck amidst the awkward tension.

“I’ll drive you home,” Hannibal remarks, apropos of your statement. His voice is entirely assertive and you find yourself agreeing with him habitually. You manage to grab Beverly’s attention and point at Hannibal’s car. She raises her eyebrows suggestively and, in a fit of exasperation, you send her a vulgar hand gesture. Beverly quickly returns the gesture before waving. You roll your eyes and get into the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Before long, you’re on the open road.

The ride is mostly silent. Most of the time, you’d feel pressured to fill that silence with something. With Hannibal, however, the silence is comfortable. That recognition is startling and it nearly forces your next words out of your mouth.“Thanks for, well, everything.”

“Of course,” Hannibal nods, his eyes fixated on the road. In the darkness, they hold a dangerous metallic gleam. Your gaze falls down to his hands grasping the steering wheel. Just how many lives have those hands taken? How many times have they been stained with blood and marked with violence? The thought makes your stomach turn a little. You decide to focus your attention elsewhere.

Before long, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway. You immediately unbuckle your seat and move to grasp the door handle, but the man places a hand on your shoulder. Confused, you remain seated and watch as he walks around the car. Hannibal then opens the car door for you.

“Thanks, Hannibal,” you murmur, pushing yourself up and out of the car. Somehow, this leads to you standing quite close to the man, only separated by the car door. Your fingers twitch as you grasp the door. Hannibal’s gaze doesn’t falter in intensity and you suddenly need an escape.“See you later.” The moment is broken and you push the door closed. Hannibal nods and makes his way back to the driver’s seat. You stand in the driveway and watch as the sleek car pulls away, driving off until it entirely disappears from your view.

chapter 3

I feel like there is a lot of unmasked potential regarding Beverly and Hannibal… I think they’d get along rly well. They’re definitely gifted at getting on each others’ nerves, too,,, lmao.

anyway, thx for reading! <333

tagging: @embalmed-roses @blood-070 and @yourlocalratwriter  

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x masc reader #male reader #masc reader #transmasc reader

[berriusagi]

SCP- 1221 "Ghost" 1

The halls of the facility were dark and barren with only guards posted at the most dangerous of the creatures contained on site. Amongst them a Euclid class creature was held up in his room, the accommodations simple. A single bed, a desk in the corner, and a small shelf of books to keep him entertained. He didn’t mind as he was used to being alone and knew how to keep himself entertained for the most part.

He sat on the floor back against the wall beside the door to his room just staring up at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. He was bored, had been for the past hour, the scientist and doctors hadn’t cleared any new reading material and you can only read the same story so many times before you start reciting it from memory just to see if you can. It turns out you can if you’ve read that book ten times or so.

He was close to starting to count the number of tiles on the ceiling when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. They were steady, whoever was walking the halls late at night was confident in where they were going. As he listened to the steps grow closer and closer they began to slow until they came to a stop directly outside his door.

“Hey Ghostie,” a man with a Scottish accent said, the sound of him settling onto the floor on the other side of the door filled the silence of the hall, “Oof my knees aren’t what they used to be.” he chuckled leaning back against the wall beside his door, “So how was your day of testing? I heard they were seeing how your uh… tentacles worked?” he asked, his tone changing on the word tentacles as if he was unsure if that was the proper word to use.

Ghost didn’t reply but felt a small smile pull at his lips as he listened to the Scot ramble on about everything and nothing at the same time. It had been a few months since he was found by the SCP Foundation and he turned himself in. It took only a week for him to start getting his late-night visitor, unprompted and he never needed to speak, the other man was happy to chatter away on his own. He was thankful for a sense of companionship, it helped him from going completely crazy while locked away in the dark all alone at night.

Ghost let the Scot’s rambling fill his head as he relaxed back, closing his eyes and feeling the mist-like tendrils that now always surround him settle and create a comfortable blanket over his body. As he began to drift off at ease with the now familiar sound of a Scottish accent he couldn’t help but think that he was glad it was the Scot to find him all those months ago.

~.~.~.~

Simon was holding himself up in an abandoned cabin in the middle of not even God knew where. He had been stumbling around for the better part of a year since he managed to escape his previous holding. He didn’t know what that Roba guy had done to him but he did know that whatever it was he didn’t want to risk hurting civilians the way he had massacred Roba and his entire facility.

Without an idea of what to do he wandered, kept moving and always stayed off any path that would lead him towards civilization. He’s become a type of cryptid or something from the number of times he’s seen random hikers or backpackers in the corner of his eye just staring at him. He knows at least one or two have gotten photos of him so he doesn’t doubt he’s probably found his way on some type of forum.

It’s only a matter of time before people start looking for him, it doesn’t take the internet long to latch onto the latest cryptid and start searching for them. Simon just hopes that by the time they take an active interest in finding him, he’ll be well out of the area and no one will be able to find him. Simon kept clinging to that hope as he looked over the old paper maps he managed to swipe from a campsite during one of his treks through a dense forest. He knows it was a dick move but really he doesn’t care whoever that hiker was that left their map unattended probably had at least one person who would go looking for them.

Simon didn’t have anyone and so he kept moving and didn’t look back. No one would look for him and if he had it his way no one would even know he exists so he can’t cause harm to anyone. He sighed leaning his head back and reaching up rubbing his eyes trying to ease the sting of staring at something for hours with barely a blink. He blew out a soft huff of air as he started folding up the map and shoved it into his pocket. It was getting too dark to read it anyways and he needed to rest his eyes if he was going to be able to head out in the early morning anyways.

Simon couldn’t say for how long he was asleep when he heard the sound of feet crunching through the underbrush of the forest outside. He knew it was still the middle of the night too early for him to be awake just yet and even earlier for anyone not on the run to be awake and moving. He held his breath as he slowly leaned up to look out the broken and cloudy window of the cabin he was hiding in even with his eyes accustomed to the dark he had trouble picking out the source of the sound.

For a moment he almost thought it was maybe a bear or even a stray deer but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something worse. It might have been some of Roba’s lackeys he didn’t know about. He held his breath as he tried to find the source of the noise and when he couldn’t hear anything his pulse only quickened, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as the mist-like tendrils he had gotten used to began to wrap around him like a second skin to protect him.

A silent forest is never a good sign.

~.~.~.~

Ghost was startled awake when the door to his room was opened, a small group of soldiers stepping in with guns at the ready protecting the white-coated scientist as he entered. Ghost never bothered to learn the names of any of the soldiers or scientists that would come and go. Never felt the need to build a relationship with any of them since he knew he could be terminated at any moment.

“Ah good morning Ghost,” the doctor smiled though it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, “So glad to see you awake now come along we have some testing to do,” he said waving him along as the soldiers ushered him out of his room and down to the testing area.

Ghost followed with minimal issue keeping his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets as he walked down the hall, the guards following him on either side with their guns at the ready for if he tried to do anything. Ghost didn’t have any plans to cause trouble, he never wanted to hurt anyone he just wanted to stop being hurt. He did only as much as he needed to protect himself, now at least.

“Now, Ghost, go ahead and enter the room and we’ll begin running our tests.” the scientist smiled as the guard closest to the door opened it as the others shoved him forward.

Ghost didn’t struggle and walked into the room looking around at the solid white walls as the door was closed and locked tightly behind him. He didn’t know what kind of testing they were doing, they never told him anything about the tests he was doing. They never caused any harm but this time felt different, they were more… hostile in getting him for this test. 

As he turned to look at the door to maybe find out what they were planning he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the series of remote ballistics aimed at him.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked his voice rough and strained from misuse.

“We need to see just how durable you are, Ghost.” the scientist's cheerful voice filtered through the speakers, “You’ll be fine don’t worry they’re not rounds designed to kill,” he said.

Ghost's eyes widened as one of the guns readjusted and fired at him.

~.~.~.~

Simon moved through the forest as quietly as he could trying not to draw any attention towards him. A silent forest is a bad sign, you don’t travel through remote areas as often as he did without learning that. He didn’t know what was out in the woods but he knew it wasn’t good and he needed to move and fast.

Moving quickly and quietly he traveled as much ground as he could moving closer to the sound of life, Towards the distant sound of owls and the buzzing of bugs towards where the forest sounded like it was alive. His tendrils kept close to his skin wriggling and at the ready to protect him. He kept his stance low and his head on a swivel so he wouldn’t get blindsided by anything.

As he neared the edge of a clearing he paused noticing a group of heavily armed men all standing around a creature sedated and locked in a large cage. He kept low and watched from behind a tree as the men all worked to load the creature up into a large armored van. Once it was locked away safely the men started joking, appearing more at ease now that whatever they had been sent out to find was secured.

“Soap!” a man shouted from across the clearing, “wrap it up we need to head back to the base and get this thing in containment.”

One of the armed men, Soap, turned and threw his hand up giving him a thumbs up, “Aye got it, Captain!” he nodded his thick Scottish accent carrying across the clearing. “We’ll get this little thing back and safely out of reach of the masses soon enough.” he laughed.

Simon’s eyes widened when he heard Soap mention that they would be locked away from the public wherever it is they captured. He moved silently trying to get closer to see if he could figure out just who these people were. As he neared one of the large armored vans he could see a large emblem on the side and the letters SCP Foundation.

“Who’s there?” the captain from before shouted, Simon froze his eyes slowly moving to look down the barrel of the gun trained on him. He slowly raised his arms keeping his hands visible.

“Get out here where I can see you,” he ordered the other armed men all turning and training their weapons on him.

Simon nodded slowly, getting to his feet and walking out keeping his hands visible. As he got closer the men all kept their weapons trained on him. His eyes slowly traveled across the group of men pausing just for a moment at the man he noticed earlier.

“What are you doing out here son?” The captain said his eyes tracking the misty wisps of darkness floating off Simon's head.

Simon eyed the group and chose to keep his eyes trained on the captain while he spoke, “What do you people do? What are you going to do with that creature?” he asked.

“What does it matter to you?” one of the soldiers spat, keeping his gun trained on Simon’s head.

“Shut up!” the captain snapped at the soldier, keeping his attention focused on Simon, “Why do you want to know that son?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

Simon’s eyes darted from each soldier for a moment before settling on the captain again, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” he said

“Was that a threat?” the soldier growled.

“I said shut up!” the captain shouted glaring at the soldier, “What do you mean?” he asked, gentling his tone as he looked back at Simon.

Simon sighed, eyeing the soldier as he lowered his hands pressing his wrists together and presenting them to the captain. He kept his mouth quiet and just watched him waiting for them to do something.

The one soldier named Soap raised an eyebrow confused, “what in the bloody hell?” he muttered looking over at his Captain, “he’s just turning himself in?” he asked.

The Captain sighed, glancing around at his men, “Cuff him we’ll take him back to the facility.” he said, “Do NOT hurt him.” he said glaring at his soldiers before waving for Soap to follow him to their van.

Simon let out a soft sigh of relief as he was ushered towards one of the armored vans by the soldiers.

~.~.~.~

Ghost groaned curled up on his bed, his body aching and sore from the rounds they shot at him. It was late in the evening again, everyone either had long gone to sleep or had already stationed themselves in front of their assigned cells. Ghost closed his eyes trying to force himself asleep hoping that the pain would lessen by morning but knowing all too well that it’ll only worsen with time.

He lay in bed for what felt like hours hoping to find sleep when he heard the sound of footsteps nearing his room. He relaxed a little as he listened to Soap settle outside his door, the sound of his nightly ramblings beginning to fill the silence. Ghost felt himself ease into a light sleep enjoying the accented man’s words as the misty tendrils blanketed his form.

Outside his room, Soap was smiling as he just talked to talk, he knew Ghost wasn’t really listening and was probably asleep. He never really spoke to him, keeping his thoughts locked away for no one to know. He had heard of the testing they did and wanted to try and ease Ghost’s pain in any way he could. If that meant being a distraction then so be it. Soap knew this place wasn’t always the best, some scientists were closer to sadists than men of intellect.

Soap leaned back against the door tapping his fingers on his thighs as he talked until he eventually ran out of things to say. The hour was late and he knew he was cutting it close to the next rotation of guards so got to his feet, “Hope you're sleeping well Ghostie.” he said gently patting the door before making his way down the hall.

~.~.~.~

Ghost stared down at one of the few books he had trying to occupy his mind and keep himself busy. He wasn’t needed for any testing, which thank fucking God, and so he needed something to not go stir crazy. As he tried to force himself to read he picked up on some talking outside his room. It was unusual for guards to come down his wing since he was there voluntarily and didn’t need any kind of security.

Getting to his feet he walked over to the door listening as the pair made their way down the hall talking to each other.

“Did you hear about that one Scottish guy?” one said, his voice carrying a weird accent that was hard to place.

“You mean the one that’s in deep shit for tampering with the cameras?” The other said his accent sounded vaguely American.

Ghost’s eyes widened as he listened, the misty tendrils around him beginning to create a thick black miasma that began to pour off him, shrouding him in darkness.

“Yeah, that one.” The first one said, “Yeah turns out he was already on thin ice for something else and this was like the final straw they demoted him.”

“No shit really? What’d they do to him?”

“Dude,” he said, his tone carrying the air of him rolling his eyes, “You know what they do when they demote a soldier. He went into the D-Class pool. I heard they were going to use him for a test with SCP-682 so you know he’s going to die.”

Ghost felt his heart stutter in his chest, the miasma spreading creating a large swirling portal at his feet. He didn’t even try to fight it as his body sank into the dark pool of shadows.

Across the facility, Soap sighed as he was guided down the hall toward what was going to be his final resting place. In the stomach of an unkillable lizard, or more likely torn to shreds and left to rot in pieces. There wasn’t much he could do even if he tried to run they would just hunt him down and make what was left of his life even closer to hell.

‘I lived a good life,’ Soap thought as they grew closer to his demise, ‘I think at least,’

As he took another step he felt his foot sink into something soft, confused he looked down his eyes widening at the large black pool of shadows below him. As he was shoved forward by the guards to keep walking he stumbled, slipping through the shadows, his body feeling weightless before he landed in someone's arms.

Soap blinked looking up at who caught him, his eyes widening as he saw the skull-masked face of Ghost smiling down at him.

“Hello Johnny,” he said, his voice rough and soft. Ghost readjusted his hold on Soap holding him close to his chest as the black shadows surrounded them plunging them into darkness.

“What’s going on?” Soap asked his head whipping around as he tried to see where the shadows were taking them.

“I’m getting us out of here.” Ghost said as the shadows started to clear, revealing a clearing in some forest in the middle of nowhere, “I couldn’t let them kill you.”

“You gave yourself over willingly, why are you running away?” Soap asked, looking up at him confused about why he saved him.

“I didn’t care if their tests kept hurting me, I just didn’t want to hurt others, but they were going to kill you, Johnny.” Ghost said, setting Soap on his feet and reaching for the cuffs binding his hands, “I couldn’t have you dying. You’re what made it bearable to be there.”

Soap blushed watching as the misty tendrils surrounding Ghost’s hands weaved into the cuffs, wriggling around before they clicked open and dropped to the forest floor, “So if we’re on the run what do we do now?” he asked looking up at Ghost as he rubbed his wrists.

“We’ll figure it out for now, let's get moving.” Ghost said, ushering Soap along into the forest.

Soap nodded following him, keeping in step beside him as they started their hike through the trees. He was able to walk in silence for a few short moments before he started clicking his tongue and snapping his fingers feeling antsy at the lack of noise, “So,” he said drawing out the word, “You broke out because you like me?”

Ghost chuckled shaking his head as he looked down at Soap his eyes crinkling at the corners from his smile, “Yeah Johnny,” he said leaning down so their faces were mere centimeters apart from each other, “I did this all because I like you,” he said gently pressing his face into the crook of Soap’s neck holding him close for a moment before pulling away, “we can talk more when we find somewhere to settle for the night.”

Soap blinked his blush starting to spread down his neck as he nodded, “Uh yeah okay” he coughed following Ghost as he started walking again, “Oh wait since you’re not at the facility anymore what should I call you?”

Ghost hummed as he looked down at Soap for a moment before looking forward again, “Name used to be Simon.” he said.

Soap smiled wide, stepping closer to gently bump against Ghost’s side, “Simon huh?” he said, “I like it, I think I’ll call ya Si since you insist on calling me Johnny.” he chuckled.

Ghost shook his head smiling softly as he reached over slinging an arm around Soap’s shoulders, “Yeah that's fine I guess.”

#call of duty #cod #ghost cod #soap cod #ghostsoap #soapghost #price #fanfic #scp fandom #scp #Bunny's Fics

[renee-writer]

Out of Time Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight

AO3

“Not even a sound?” Jamie asks as he gets his supplies together.

 

“She moans in her sleep but that is it. Doctor Jamie, I need to ask you something. Please don’t take offense.”

 

“Well, I guess that would depend on what you ask?” He nods for her to sit Kitty down on the exam table. She shakes her head.

 

“My question first. Did that situation with Charlie and William happen organically or…”

 

He lays the stethoscope and other supplies down. Turning to her, he says, “Organically. When we discovered her pregnancy, I was concerned it was one of the men. William didn’t enter my head, why would he? She explained. Comfort led to more. Trust me Nora, none of us were happy about it. When Murtagh and Danny committed to marry their lasses and the mothers of their children, William approached me and ask for the same. I wasn’t sure what to do,” he takes a seat on the stool, “still question whether it was the right decision. He loves her, or thinks he does, she respects him. He wanted to do the right thing. We talked it over and decided that, with their childhood prematurely ended, the least we can do is help them be good young adults.” He shrugs, “It was all we could do.”

 

She nods and walking over, sits Kitty down on the table. “Thank you for explaining and for understanding our concerns.”

 

He nods. “Of course. I would feel the same.” He lifts up the stethoscope. “I promise we aren’t some strange pedophile cult. I believe the mist took them out.”

 

“That would be one good thing.”

 

“Kitty, I am Dr. Jamie. May I listen to your heart and belly?” He doesn’t expect an answer and doesn’t get one. She still needed to hear him asking. He gently unrolls her from the fetal position she assumed at being sat down. Placing the stethoscope on her chest, he listens. Then he moves it down to her belly. Finally, he turns her on her side, explaining what he is doing, and listens to her back. Nora hovers nearby, her hands fisted so not to interfere.

 

“I am going to look in your ears, see if Peppa pig is in there, okay?” Again no response. She allows the exam without complaint. He wishes she would fight him.

 

“Now those beautiful eyes. I need to see what you are thinking, eh?” He really wishes he could as he shines the light into them.

 

Nora waits as long as she can. “Anything?”

 

“I will draw some blood. She is healthy. Unless something come up on the blood panel, I say this is psychological. She is in a near cationic state.”

 

“Yeah,” she runs her hands through her hair as the taste of pure fear floods her mouth, “we thought as much. Was hoping it was something medical that a dose of antibiotics would cure. Silly huh?”

 

He shakes his head as he gathers the needle and test tubes. “No, hopeful. Not a bad way to look at life right now..”

 

She is back in a fetal position. He moves one arm out and nods to Nora. She comes and holds her down. The precaution isn’t needed. She doesn’t even flinch at the blood draw. This concerns Jamie more then anything else.

 

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

 

“Aye, it is bad. Does she eat well?”

 

“Yes, she will eat whatever is feed to her. She doesn’t  ask though. You know, she doesn’t  seek food.” She lifts her into her arms and the lass curls up against her. “When Tara or I go use the loo, we take her. She will go. Again though, she doesn’t seek it out. Surprisingly, she has had no wet mornings either.”

 

He listens. “How does she react to Zach,” he adds, “not accusing him of anything, just trying to see if any previous abuse has anything to do with her current state?”

 

“Understand.” She reacts to everyone the same. We have seen no difference.”

 

Another nod. It isn’t definitive but… “Tell me about finding her.”

 

“We were walking in the woods. We saw something move in a pile of leaves. First thought was a small animal. Zach went to see because we were hungry. “ A shrug, “I was a vegetarian before all this, “ she nods to herself, “he lets out a startled cry. That freaked Tara and I out. We turned to run thinking, well, it could bee anything. Zach shouts  out, “No! It is a child. We look at each other then run over. She was lying in the leaves. Curled up like she did on the table. We all three reached for her at the same time. Tara lifted her up.  Her hair was all matted and her clothes filthy. Her little face streaked with moldy leaves and the like.”

 

“Her feet, were they dirty?”

 

She frowns. “Now that you mention it, they were the only part of her clean.”

 

“So someone did drop her off.”

 

“Yes. Zach and I looked around but didn’t see anyone. We had no idea how long she had been there.”

 

“Did you find any animals?” She frowns, “In the leaves where you found her?”

 

“No.”

 

He smiles. “Excellent. She moved, heard you and moved.  Therefore she hadn’t  completely given up yet.”

 

Nora gets it and grins. She kisses the head of the child. “Grand job Kitty!”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Okay doctor, how do we help her?”

 

“We feed her body, good healthy food. We feed her mind, have her sit in one Mary’s lessons. We feed her soul by doing what you have been doing. Simply loving her.”

 

“We can do that.” Nora says.

 

“I will check her blood for infection or viruses. I promise to do all I can to see to her.”

 

“Thank you.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #out of time #chapter one hundred and forty-eight #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #modern au

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #Spencer reid fic #Spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fics #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n

[keilemlucent]

(nsfw) ✧ (dark content warnings) ✧  (minors do not interact) 

hawks | takami keigo x reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere, vomit due to illness, delusion, reader is definitely not mentally well, brief description of injury, hawks is Not nice in this, reader has difficulty eating, 

a/n: uhhh it’s 2am, time to post dark drabble lol!! i love like.... deep yandere stuff. when darling’s already been In It for awhile and worn down. mwah. chefs. kiss. anyways, here’s my take!

You want to know what rain tastes like.

Is it different than water from the tap? You had asked him one day. He chuckled but didn’t give you an answer. Just an easy deflection, something unrelated to pull your mind from the outside. 

It is easier this way. 

It’s so much easier to draw the curtains in the morning. Damn the sun, damn the light— You can take vitamin D supplements and pretend you don’t mind how dark the apartment is no matter the time of day.

It’s easier to ignore the multiple locks (seven. you count them sometimes to pass the time) that are bolted into the door. The time it takes him to open them with all their tumbling gears and thundering clicks is the preamble to his comings and goings.

You know to rise from your damn-near sacred spot on the couch to greet him. You go to him with a kiss on his cheek, and to give him hug so hard, it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s from the strain of your arms around his, or the pressure of his embrace around you. You don’t particularly mind either way. It’s the reminder you need that as empty and dark as the apartment is, he’ll always return.

Always.

You lock your hands behind his back, clasped below his wings. Routinely, you bury your face in his chest while he sways you. He asks about your day, but he isn’t listening. You don’t think so, but you don’t mind. Nothing you say means much, and every day is the same. You sit on the couch and stare at the floor. The walls. The ceiling if you’re feeling more adventurous.  

You stopped watching TV alone months ago. No matter what you watched on Keigo’s big, sleek television, it was just a reminder. An awful, unavoidable reminder that the world is quite large, and you weren’t apart of it.

You couldn’t be. You were locked in place— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — in the little apartment. Wasting away, as much as you tried not to.

...

“You need to eat, baby,” Keigo coax. He holds a deep spoonful of soup to your lips. It smells divine, like chives and cream. “Just a little. For me?”

‘For me.’

Your inability to stomach anything is his problem, just as much as it is yours. That’s just a fact.

“I don’t want to get sick again,” You squeeze your hands. There is a semblance of comfort in the action as Keigo inspects you. Searching.

It isn’t a lie. Your stomach growls and rolls, and it has been all day. Keigo has started to always leave ample leftovers in the fridge in the case you’d actually want to eat them. And you do. Sometimes, you even try! Really try. But the end result is always the same. Your head ends up dangling over the bowl of your toilet while you wretch and writhe. 

Acid stings your throat for hours. 

Despite Keigo’s... previous treatment, he seems genuinely concerned about this development. You’re hardly able to keep anything down, despite being well otherwise.

(You’re so unwell and have been for so long, he can’t begin to see it. The bruises are perpetual. The scars that you didn’t have a year ago are fixtures he can’t remember you without. The constant tremble you carry is from the drafty apartment, not from the deeply instilled fear you carry. The one he had branded (literally) onto you. Into you.)

(Fucker.)

You shake the thought off and open your mouth and accept the bite. And Keigo, bless his heart, is sweet enough to not shove the spoon to the back of your throat. He lets you suck the soup from it, quietly praising your work.

You manage to eat half the bowl before shaking your head, tummy already twisting in the worst, most familiar way.

Keigo gives you pills then. Four of them, all slightly different colors and shapes. You don’t know what they do, and you knew better than to ask (you’d gotten slapped across the face the first and only time you tried.) 

The fourth pill is new, and Keigo, graciously, tells you that it’s for the nausea. That a special doctor is helping him help you. Isn’t that wonderful?

You’re so, so lucky.

 (You hurl the next morning once the meds wear off. Your hands shake and your slam your fist into your temples. Begging. You’re not sure to who. Maybe to yourself. Your body. Crying for your wretched form to just stop hurting you. If you weren’t sick, things would be better.

Maybe, you’re begging Keigo. For help. To make it stop. To take care of you and coo that things will be fine as things are so completely not find that you can’t comprehend it. But he is the one who decides when you hurt. Shouldn’t he be able to make this stop?

Maybe you’re begging him to unlatch those — one, two, three, four, five, six— seven locks so you could dash into the world. Scream at the first person you see that beloved, pro-hero Hawks is so beyond deranged and fucked up. Maybe no civilian would believe you. But you were the evidence. You bore the slashes of his feathers. The perpetual imprint of his fingers on hips and thighs. You even had a brand on the bottom of your foot. K-E-I-G-O.

Maybe, you’re begging to whatever god you once believed in to kill you. You don’t care about the means. Be it your hand, or Keigo’s, or random chance.)

 You spew into the murky water and try to forget.

...

Keigo’s special doctor comes by. You see the two exchange hands by the door when she first arrives. A flash of bills and coins. Paid off, part of you perks up. The doctor won’t talk about Hawks’ little captive. You’re sure it’s a handsome amount, based on the neutrality of her expression as she takes you in.

To care so little about something like you is hardly a surprise.

She examines you, collects some blood and other samples. Prescribes a few more medicines that have long and complicated names that are hard to pronounce. You try to forget them. You’re happy to be quiet. Sit next to Keigo while he wraps a wing around you and rubs your back in little circles. He’s warm and good, unlike the rot in your stomach.

 Keigo praises you once she leaves, wrapping you up in him, scarlet feathers and all. Kisses your cheeks, telling you how well you did. How you didn’t falter, didn’t scream, didn’t let her touch you too much. How you were so perfect for him. You deserve a reward! 

He treats you to fresh sheets and more kisses. The kind that feels like how lovers are supposed to kiss. There isn’t too much teeth or tongue, just slow, open-mouthed pressing that makes your tummy flutter in a good way (for once.)

“Isn’t this nice?” Keigo hums against your lips. 

You nod, barely eager but not apprehensive either. Treading lightly on a carefully, self-cultivated path between wanting and revulsion. As good as it feels, you don’t want to give him. You don’t remember how.

His lips trail to your neck, to your collarbones. He pushes up your shirt and only leaves little pecks over your nipples and chest. No wounds that draw blood. No hickeys that last weeks. 

You don’t realize you start trembling until Keigo has to grip your inner thighs to still you. So, he can coo blessed, little reminders.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I always make you feel so good.”

“You deserve this, all of this,” he says before pressing his lips to your clit. You’re just wet enough for him to fuck you on his fingers. Enough that when he bullies the bundle of nerves inside you, you coat his fingers in slick and whine. Your voice breaks, over and over, and little, unwanted tears leak into your hairline.

Keigo ignores them as usual. You can be so dramatic.

And Keigo, ever gracious, let’s you shatter on his fingers. Doesn’t make you beg, just whispered hushed adorations as you come undone on his tongue. He hardly toys with you after, and instead lets you fall into the sheets. Properly spend, though not exhausted.

You still shake, but that’s okay. It’s manageable.

Keigo cleans you up with a silken cloth. He wipes between the swell of your breasts, down your navel and to your cunt. His feathers ruffle as he does his work, clearly focused. There’s no speaking during it, only watching and observing.

“Thank you.” You speak without prompting. 

Your words are dry and underused. Your lips feel chapped, and your vision is hazy in the dark of the bedroom. 

Keigo gives you a smile (full of white-hot pride), clicking his tongue, “Of course, dovey. You deserve to feel good for me. I want you to. I like you like this.”

(He carries that same sentiment that no matter your ‘post-fuck’ state. Whether you’re twitching and dumb from overstimulation. Whether you’re bawling from pain and holding your hand over a too deep, ‘accidental’ wound. Whether your expression is blank, lips ajar, and face tilted to the ceiling.)

You can only agree with him.

What other option do you have?

...

(The doctor calls the following week. Keigo speaks to her in hushed tones from his office, muffled and stern. You only catch pieces of it.

“They do not appear to be suffering from anything specific illness.” The doctor pauses. “The weakness, fatigue, shakiness, forgetfulness, and nausea all seem to be tied back to prolonged anxiety. Constant surges of adrenaline that have pushed them to this point.”

Keigo doesn’t bother asking the source.

He knows it.

(And honestly? He seems a little proud.)

 You return to settle on the couch. Ever practiced, you turn towards the door and find the locks.

One, two, three four—

That four one wouldn’t be too hard to pick, would it?

(You’d already tried months ago. It was just a chain lock, but Keigo had nearly snapped your wrist when he caught you trying to tamper with it.)

Five, six, seven—

Your stomach rolls and your hug your knees, still managing a smile when Keigo rejoins you. His wings flex, and he flashes you a golden smile. His phone is locked and in his hand, and you know he’ll ignore it for the night. He’ll wrap you in his arms and smother you with his wings.

It’s better this way, you remind yourself, turning from the locks.

#salem writes #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark content #tw yandere #tw vomit #it's vomit from illness btw #tw self injury #please lemme know if i miss a tag #hawks x reader #yandere hawks #i might delete this or repost to my side blog sdklfjla #we will see #for now it is here

[dreamrecorder]

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

~

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

~

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

~

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

~

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

~ 

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

~

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

~

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall. 

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it. 

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

~

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more. 

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?” 

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils. 

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself. 

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice. 

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?” 

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

~

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue. 

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore. 

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil. 

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer. 

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night. 

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #zhongli #childe #ganyu #ningguang

[wonunuu]

iris beauty ❀

40: getting closer

✎ synopsis: falling for a guy is never easy, especially when your best friend of many years basically claimed him; you and mina have been friends for as long as you can remember, but your loyalty and trust are tested when she asks you to pretend to be her in meeting a guy she had been talking to online and you unintentionally start to develop feelings for him.

✎ genre: romance, angst, comedy

✎ pairing: reader x yoon jeonghan

✎ word count: 1.6k+

✎ warnings: suggestive

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add your @ here!

a/n: i gotta question.. do you think pet names between couples is cute? cos like me, no lol i mean like the only one i'd accept is "my love" but idk i just don't know (this has nothing to do with the au lmaoo just a thought in pj's little brain)

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2:41

After your overtime shift at the café, you head back to your apartment to grab your textbooks. Finals were approaching, and there is no doubt that you were stressed. You need to, not only pass in your exams, but also excel in all of them to get at least a 3.8 GPA, and this is the only acceptable grade for you if you wanted to get accepted into a medical school.

So, studying has been your number one priority for the past couple of days. You and Vernon, your study buddy, have been in and out of the campus library to do nothing else but study. And that’s where you’re heading again. 

“I’m almost there,” you manage to say, panting, while jogging towards the library where an impatient Vernon was waiting. For what felt like three weeks of jogging, the familiar building finally came in sight. There were countless students, some whose faces you’ve seen before, were making their way in--probably has the same reason as you. With this many students going there to study, you knew there would be competition in getting the tables and booths first, and you mentally scold yourself for arriving late. 

“Can you be any slower?” Vernon rolls his eyes teasingly, earning him a light punch on the shoulder from you. The two of you head in and look for available spots. You checked the first floor, but they were all packed. As well as the second, third and fourth floor. Your legs felt like they were about to fall off, tired and numb from climbing an endless amount of stairs. Not to mention, you were also carrying textbooks that’s equivalent to the weight of three elephants stacked together in your bag, and you say that with no exaggeration.

“There’s one,” he points to an empty desk just by the window. As you are walking, from the side of your eye, you see another group of students pointing at it and making their way. You increase your speed, dragging Vernon behind you, so that you could get there first before they could. Fortunately, just before they got there, you slapped your hand on the table. 

“Scram, freshmans,” you growled and Vernon crosses his arms, smirks. The group of friends roll their eyes before they walk away, and you smile in victory. Some would say your actions were a little immature, especially that comment you made, but you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Afterwards, you and Vernon take your seats, and start your hours of studying. 

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

9:28

Opening the door to the apartment, you were surprised to see Jeonghan sitting on your couch, watching the television. You walk behind him and snake your hands around his shoulders, wrapping him in a warm hug, and nuzzle your head between his neck. 

“Another long day at the library?” He caresses your hands and you nod in response. “Have you eaten?” he asks. You remove your hands and walk around the couch. You lay down and place your head on his lap. “I can make you something if you want,” he offers. 

“Will you?” you look at him, smiling. You’ve never really imagined Jeonghan cooking before. You don’t even know if he knows how to. But you weren’t going to turn down his generous offer to cook for you, whatever the result may be.

Jeonghan stands up and heads to the kitchen, and you watch him from the couch. He opens the cupboards, takes out the pan and places it on the stove. He then opens the fridge, looking for anything he can cook. To your surprise, he takes out a bag with a logo of your favourite restaurant. 

You cock your head to the side as your eyebrows meet. “I thought you were going to cook for me. That’s take out.” You stated, pointing at the bag he was holding. “I am going to cook. I’m gonna heat it up. That counts,” Jeonghan looks at you and gives you a smile that displays his teeth. Disbelief is all you feel. You scoff at his reply, and feeling too tired to argue, you lay back down. 

Jeonghan has been nothing but supportive these past couple of days. When you and Vernon were at the library, he would drop by to give you two snacks and drinks. Sometimes, like today, he would use the spare keys you gave him to enter your apartment to clean up so you wouldn’t do it when you get home. Embarrassed, you told him to stop cleaning your mess, but he said it wasn’t a big deal and that he didn’t want you to come home to such an unkempt apartment--the unorganized sight causes more stress, he adds.

You were grateful for everything Jeonghan has done, yes. But you can’t help but think of one specific person who used to do the same. Who used to tell you to eat before you go to bed, who reminded you to drink water, who reassured you that you would pass your exams, and who comforted you when things didn’t turn out the way you hoped for. Joshua has never left your mind since he went away. Often, you wondered what he might be doing and where he might be. You’ve had multiple urges to send him a text or ring his phone to check up on him, but you thought he might want some space. You knew he would come back when he’s ready, and you were willing to move on from the past and start anew with him. Gosh, you miss him.

“Mind telling me what’s in that pretty head of yours?” Jeonghan disrupts your thoughts as he walks towards you, holding a plate. He sits down and offers his free hand to help you up. You grab his hand and use your abdominal muscle to sit up. 

He hands you the plate and you take it from him, and immediately, the aroma makes your mouth salivate. “Mhmm,” you murmured, “this looks delicious. Thank you, Han.” 

Your boyfriend nods and urges you to take a bite. So you did. 

“What about you,” you ask after swallowing your first bite. 

“I’m okay, babe. Just eat, hmm?” Jeonghan smiles while reaching his hand to your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. You felt bad that you were the only one eating, so you feed him. At first he refused, but quickly cave in when you pouted. 

The two of you sat on your couch, taking turns to feed each other. Sometimes, he would follow up a bite with a soft peck or two--he called it a quick served dessert. You rolled your eyes at his corny remark, but you couldn’t hide the rosy tint on your cheeks as the blood rushes through them.

Jeonghan absolutely loved spending these little moments with you. No words can ever explain the feelings he gets when he hears your laughter--your smile alone is enough to make his heart melt as if it was ice cream under a fifty degree celsius summer day. He would not exchange this moment for anything else. There is nothing he wants more than to spend time with the person he loves most. 

After your meal, you head to the kitchen and quickly wash the dishes before going back to sit with Jeonghan. You plop yourself beside him and he takes his arm and wraps it around your shoulder. You do the same as you snake both your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest, where the sound of his heartbeat is clear and audible. You don’t know if you just really love to hear his heart beat because you love him, or if it’s because of your longing profession of becoming a doctor. You think it’s a combination of both. 

“What should we watch?” Jeonghan asks as he flips through shows and movies available on netflix. You shrugged your shoulders and told him you were okay with any. Soon, the two of you settled with Grey’s Anatomy--a show you absolutely loved. Jeonghan was never a fan of medical shows or whatsoever, but if his girl was going to be a doctor, he’ll have to get familiar with some terminologies, right? 

Three episodes have passed and the two of you were still in the same position as before, cuddled on the couch. You were still watching intently, but you were not so sure about Jeonghan though. Not seeing his face, you guess that he probably fell asleep when you guys were just halfway through the first episode. You didn’t mind though. He deserved to rest. 

However, your guess was proven wrong when you suddenly feel his kiss at the top of your head, causing you to giggle. He did it again, and again, and again, each lasting longer than the previous one, and moving lower and lower. Kissing as a form of affection has become a normal thing between the two of you now. But this time, Jeonghan’s kisses feel more than just affection.

Images in your head started popping in, making your heart rate increase and your breathing pattern to change. 

“Yn,” Jeonghan softly whispers to your ears, making your insides churn, “are you okay?”

Fuck it. 

You unwrap your arms from his body and take your hands straight to cup his face, taking him by surprise. You close your eyes and lean in to kiss his lips. He freezes for  ma second but quickly melts right into the kiss. He uses his hands to take hold of your waist and pulls you in front of him. You oblige and place your knees on either side of his lap.

You detach yourself to catch your breath, but your eyes remained closed as you relinquished the taste of his lips. He did the same, but eager to taste your lips once again, he leans in and kisses you, quite roughly this time. He takes his right hand and places it at the back of your neck, guiding you as the two of you made out on your couch. 

“You still have extra clothes here, right?” You ask between your kisses. Jeonghan doesn't respond, and instead kisses you harder. Soon, he trails kisses from your lips to the side if your neck. Whispers escape you lips as you cock your head to the side to give him more room.

This night is going to be long. 

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tags:

@yyxyzti @acciofirewhiskey @doiewonu @shuajeong @wooziverse @boogyuu @rjsmochii @haniehae @twentysixofmays @suhfluffy @dancingddays @lovingyu04 @sydneyy-jade @itsdnguyenxoxo @fluffyhyeju @haoraecane @dy-mglzz @1800zuho @t-secretpot @floweryjeons @yaebbinnie @t-secretpot @not-sojoyuus @xcalicoups @ryuyalana @bubblywonu @youbloominsideofme @lavenonie @wonwoonlight @yoonzinow @mariecoura @juji-han @strawbinnie-shortcake @isa499 @pseudoyop @serenadesvt @glouraeswei @glowingjaehyun @sunflowergyeomie @kunmaid @apricottulips @hao-ling @cheolright @pancakeandfrogs @yanniezx @jeonjungkaka @sunflower-euphro @monstathedisco

unable to tag: @tyongs @jeongjungkaka @jammyjamjamss @hauntedprincessarbiter @scoffingscully

#caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen texts #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt au #seventeen social media au #svt #svt texts #svt scenarios

[drabbles-mc]

50 Types of Touch

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Dedicating this to the second half of my brain @garbinge​ because she sent me This Post by @creativepromptsforwriting and that’s what got this all going. Love you lots! xo

Warnings: language, very slight steam, minor mentions of blood/injuries

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Before anyone says anything, YES I am willfully ignoring some of the things we’ve recently discovered about canon!Nestor lmao. Let me have this 😂 This is all just soft, my friends. I needed some softness after how my week has gone and Nestor is my comfort character so it only made sense that it went this way haha. Hope you guys enjoy! xo 

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Touching Foreheads: Nestor almost always rests his forehead against yours after a long kiss. He’ll usually close his eyes and just focus on the feeling of you so close to him. After a long, hard day, those few seconds of silence and closeness are how he centers himself.

Running Fingers Through Hair: The first time you ever saw Nestor’s hair out of braids, you almost lost your mind. How he managed to tame it so well all the time was amazing to you. You were always big on playing with stray locks of it, especially when he got out of the shower. When the two of you were curled up on the couch together, you found yourself absentmindedly playing with the ends of his curls. Sometimes you caught yourself and were afraid it bothered him, but you noticed that he slowly started wearing it down more and more often at home, and it made you smile.

Hiding Face in Neck: Whenever you do this to him, his hand automatically comes up to cradle the back of your head. It never fails to make him smile—he finds it to be adorable. His favorite is when he can feel your lips curl into a smile against his neck, or when he can feel your laughter against his skin.

Caressing the Other’s Hand: Nestor is notorious for doing this to you while he drives. One hand on the wheel, one hand on you, always. He’s either tracing patterns on your hand, or resting his hand on your thigh. He also loves when you do it to him while the two of you watch movies together—your eyes are on the screen but your fingers have a mind of their own.

Feeling Their Pulse: The few times that you’ve had to go to the hospital for him, it was always the first thing you would do. Didn’t matter what the doctors or monitors hooked up to him said, you had to check for yourself. Sometimes he’d be barely awake and try to crack a joke about it and you would roll your eyes through the tears, because of course he would have sarcastic remarks at a time like that.

Patting the Other’s Head: It was something that the two of you would do to each other in passing. When one was laying with their head leaning against the arm of the couch, it was almost impulsive. You remember the first time you did it to Nestor and he looked up at you, a confused expression on his face. He thought that you were trying to get his attention, or maybe crack a joke, but you just kept walking. The first time he did it back to you was to see how you’d react, but you’d just smile and continue doing whatever you were doing, sometimes letting out a quiet hum of approval. So now it was just something that each of you did, a type of acknowledgment without having to speak.

Holding Hands: He’s never been big on casual hand-holding. He’ll hold it in the car sometimes, but usually one of the only times he’s holding your hand is when the two of you are walking through somewhere together, whether it’s a crowded store or whatever business parties and functions he has to go to with the Galindos. Keeping his fingers interlocked in yours is his way of making sure that he doesn’t stray too far from you.

Shielding the Other One with Their Body: Nestor spends so much of his life ready to dive in front of bullets or whatever other danger is thrown Miguel’s way. Needless to say, his life with you doesn’t quite carry the same risks, and he works very hard to keep it that way. However, the second that he senses that someone is giving you a hard time, or making you uncomfortable in any way, he won’t hesitate to place himself between you and the other person. He’ll gently nudge you behind him, keeping a protective hand reached back and placed on your hip to provide you with whatever comfort he can while he addresses whoever was causing the issue.

Listening to the Other’s Heartbeat: Before you, he’d never met someone who found it so comforting to listen to it. Most times when you were laid up on the couch together, you’d sprawl at least partially on top of him so that you could press your ear to his chest, close your eyes, and just focus to the rhythmic beat. It was always comforting, but he never understood how much it really meant for you until one day you crawled up into his hospital bed with him and did it, and he felt your body start to tremble against his. After that he started doing it to you, too, and he started to understand the security it gave you.

Spooning At Night: He’s a Big Spoon all the way. He likes being able to wrap his arms around you and keep you pulled close. He’ll tangle his legs up with yours to soak up all the contact with you that he can. This is one of the only times that he’ll nestle his face into your neck, because it makes him feel all that much closer to you. You enjoy the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back, and he likes feeling like he’s as close to you as he can get.

Laying Their Hand on the Other’s Neck: You rested your hands on either side of his neck all the time. You’d idly trace over the ink there as the two of you stood and talked. More often than not your hands would slide from the sides of his neck to the back and pull him into a kiss, and he’d always let you. One of his hands covered an entire half of your neck. It made you feel small, but it was also comforting to soak up all the warmth emanating from his palm.

Pushing a Strand of Hair Behind Their Ear: He’d blown the same stray lock of hair out of his face at least four times while he was working on his laptop, but he didn’t make any move to actually fix the issue. You watched from the opposite end of the couch with a small smile on your face, trying not to let your amusement be too obvious. Once he did it again you shook your head and leaned forward so you were sitting upright, motioning for him to lean in closer to you. He leaned in, expecting you to say something, or kiss him, but instead you reached out and carefully tucked the unruly strands behind his ear with a quiet laugh before collapsing back into your previous position. He sat there and watched you for a moment before shaking his head, smiling as he went back to his work.

Nudging the Other One: You were always nudging him. It was your preferred way of getting his attention. Whether you were on the couch watching a TV show and something was happening that was exciting you, or you were out shopping and you saw something that you thought looked really cool. You were always bumping his shoulder lightly with your own. At first he didn’t realize it was your preferred way of communicating your excitement, or trying to get his attention. But now feeling the slight bump against his shoulder immediately snapped him to attention.

Putting an Arm Around the Other’s Waist: You usually did this in response to him draping his arm around your shoulders. If the two of you were walking down the street he’d almost always wrap his arm around you, and your body’s natural reaction was to put your arm around his waist and pull yourself closer against his side. Sometimes he’d wrap his arm around yours if he was communicating to someone that you were with him, and vice-versa. You’d feel his fingers put pressure against your hip and you’d smile, knowing that he was proving a point to someone.

Hugging Each Other: Nestor wasn’t a big hugger until he was with you. It just wasn’t something that he had a lot growing up, and in their world of business, genuine hugs were far and few between. The adjustment after he started dating you was a bit odd for him, but now a long, tight hug from you breathed a whole new life into him. It’s the first thing he looks to do after a bad day.

Massaging Them: The first time you asked Nestor to give you a massage there was nothing but panic written all over his face. He wasn’t used to using his hands for something so gentle and intimate. He was afraid he’d do it wrong and hurt you. So you offered to give him one first and even that he hesitated on, not used to being so vulnerable and relaxed with someone. You started off by just working his shoulders and neck, but he practically turned to jello in your hands and then it didn’t take much convincing after that. The first time he gave you a back massage and you told him to just straddle your hips while you were lying on your stomach, the smirk that came across his face was priceless, and shortly thereafter massages became a favorite lazy-day activity.

Holding the Other’s Chin Up: Usually he’d place his hand on the side of your neck and then position his thumb underneath your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and look at him if the two of you were having a difficult conversation. It was a soft but firm reminder of where his focus was. He’d always been big on eye contact with you, and when you were upset it mattered all that much more.

Squishing the Other’s Cheek: He hates when you do it. Or, rather, he acts like he hates it. But underneath the eye rolls and the shaking of his head, you can see him fighting to contain a smile. It was always done in jest, and to get a bit of a rise out of him, and it always worked.

High Fiving: The first time you held your hand out for a high five, he almost didn’t do it. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d given someone a high five over anything. But you’d come home with some really exciting news, and when you finished your story you held your hand up for a high five, and for a solid almost ten seconds he looked back and forth between you and your hand before realizing that you were serious about it.

Bandaging/Stitching Up an Injury: You do more of that than you care to admit when it comes to Nestor. You never got less worried for him, but your annoyance levels varied as time went on. You thought that he’d get mad but you’d be muttering under your breath as you cleaned out his knuckles and put bandages in the gashes on his face but when you’d look at him, he’d be smiling. You’d ask why and one time he told you he was glad that you were comfortable enough to not only stitch him up, but also let him know that you thought he was an idiot sometimes. He liked the balance in your care for him, and it got both of you to laugh despite the bloody gauze around you.

Kissing the Other’s Brow: Nestor’s go-to while he was hugging you, along with kissing your temple. For you, the feeling was always coupled with him squeezing his arms a little tighter around you for a moment as he pressed his lips gently there. It was the first step in comforting you after a bad day.

Falling Asleep on the Other’s Shoulder: The first time he looked down and saw that you had fallen asleep on him in the middle of a movie at your place was when he stopped trying to deny the fact that he was in love with you. You looked so peaceful and content slumped against his side. He didn’t dare disturb you, even when his arm started to go numb. Instead, he just settled back against the couch and chose another movie to put on.

Carrying the Other One in Their Arms: This usually follows you falling asleep on his shoulder. You’d usually wake up as he lifted you, sleepily wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into his chest as he walked to the bedroom. Sometimes you’d grumble and groan about him waking you up, but it was never too long before you fell right back to sleep. His favorite was the rare occasions that he had to carry you inside after you had too much to drink, because you’d be leaning into him, talking and flirting with him like you were still trying to pick him up at the bar, despite the fact that you lived together.

Whispering in Their Ear, Lips Touching the Skin: One of the few things that you’ve seen make Nestor let out an involuntary shiver. It drives him crazy in the best way, and regardless of how the two of you are positioned, his hands instantly start to roam and trail all over your body, silently encouraging you to keep going.

Stroking the Other’s Arm Soothingly: When you did it to him, you were usually following the outlines and designs of the ink that covered his arms. He’d watch you as you focused intently on the ink, smiling at how entranced you got by it. Sometimes when he spooned you, he’d lazily drag his fingers up and down your forearm to give just that extra bit of affection as the two of you laid there together. Depending on how tired you were, sometimes it would tickle and hearing your sleepy giggle made his entire body feel warm.

Kissing the Top of Their Head: Nestor did this if you were sitting at the table or on the couch and he was walking by you to take care of something that would take more than a minute or two—like a phone call about work or going to take a shower. If he was going to the kitchen to cook he’d make sure he stopped to kiss the top of your head before getting immersed in his cooking plans. Sometimes you’d look up at him and make him kiss you on the lips as well, other times you would smile as you continued whatever activity you were enthralled in.

Pulling the Other One Towards Them: Nestor could tell from the second you walked in the door whether you had a bad day or not. If you had, he would immediately walk over to you and pull you into a hug, letting you lean into his chest. On the opposite end of that spectrum, if the two of you were arguing and you tried to storm away mid-argument, he’d reach out and tug you back towards him—never forcefully, but he hated not resolving things and he’d all but beg for you to not storm off.

Feeling For Each Other in the Dark: Something that became second-nature to you once you started living together. He got home late a lot, and while he was usually pretty quiet and careful about getting into bed without disturbing you, every now and then it’d wake you up and even half-conscious you still reached out for him, and in those moments, he really knew what it felt like to be wanted.

Tickling: Once Nestor found out you were ticklish, it was game over. Any time you were trying to pout or be dramatic about something small, it was how he got you to laugh and abandon any plans of keeping a petty argument going. Did it sometimes result in him getting an accidental kick to the stomach? Maybe. But it was worth it to see you laughing so hard tears were starting to trickle down your cheeks. Nestor was ticklish too, but any time you would try to get him he would be one step ahead and somehow you would still end up on the receiving end of it.

Grabbing Onto Their Arm: The first time you watched a scary movie together, Nestor thought that you were going to snap his bicep in half with how hard you were squeezing onto it. It wasn’t what he expected from you—you seemed so unfazed by most things. One time he grabbed your arm while the two of you were out and about and it caught you off-guard, but you came to realize that he only did that when he felt like there was something off wherever you were, and you became very responsive to his touch, immediately making sure you stayed closer to his side.

Pinky Swears: Another thing that he couldn’t remember doing since childhood. But he realized that you used them for little reassurances that were actually big reassurances. The most common reason that you would lock him into one was when he told you he would be leaving for work for a few days. “Promise you’ll come home in one piece?” you’d ask. He’d smile and nod, “Promise.” And then you’d hold your pink out, “Pinky promise?” He’d lock his pinky with yours and pull you close to kiss you on the lips, “Pinky promise.”

Caressing the Other’s Back: Nestor was big on slipping his hands underneath the fabric of your shirt so he could run his hands up and down your back while he held you. Whether you were standing and hugging, or you were laying on his chest, he liked being able to feel the softness of your skin underneath his fingertips. Sometimes, when he was sitting at the table hunched over his computer, you’d materialize behind him and use your palm to run circles into his back, gently reminding him that he’d have to go to sleep eventually.

Tasting Their Smile: Feeling Nestor smile while he kissed you was one of your favorite things in the world. You’d cup his face in both your hands as you pressed your lips to his and soon enough you could feel him smiling as he held you tight. Sometimes the two of you would be trying to kiss through the laughter and it was clumsy but it was perfect.

Washing the Other’s Body: The first time that you climbed into the shower with Nestor without the intention of fooling around, it caught him off-guard. He’d had a rough go of it with whatever he was doing with Galindo, and he’d come home dirty and blood, instantly making his way to the bathroom to wash off stress. You gave him a minute or two to himself before getting in with him. He’d sighed as he rested his forehead against yours, and it was the most defeated you’d ever seen him. You kissed him and told him to turn around and you gently started to wash all the blemishes and stains from his skin. He was tense at first, but he gradually eased into it and took comfort in you taking care of him. He would do the same for you, too, hands tenderly running body wash all over you as he soaked up the way you’d relax and smile at his touch.

Kissing Bruises and Scars: He never liked talking about how he got his many miscellaneous scars, and you never pressed him about it. Nonetheless, in the small hours of the morning when the two of you were laid up together, you’d find yourself lightly kissing over them. He’d look at you with a soft smile, not commenting on it one way or the other. By the same token, when he laid with you and noticed a new bruise on your arm or leg, he’d ask where it came from. Nine times out of ten you had no idea, and usually didn’t notice them until he said something. He’d kiss them, telling you to be more careful, and you’d laugh, telling him that something wasn’t quite right about him telling you to be more careful.

Lifting the Other One Up: Watching you climb on chairs and counters at home stressed Nestor out more than it should’ve. But one day he saw you getting ready to climb up onto the counter to get a pot from the top shelf and before you could prop your leg up, he just walked up behind you and lifted you up so you could grab it. Could it have grabbed it himself? Sure. Would that have been easier? Probably. But was it the hardest you’d laughed in a while when you realized what he was doing? Definitely. Now if he was able to catch it in time, he’d always prop you up to help you out, but mostly just to hear the laughter it caused.

Putting Their Head on the Other’s Chest: Nestor very rarely laid on you, but when he was exhausted and feeling defeated, he would situate himself between your legs and rest his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat. And, more often than not, it was a silent invitation to play with his hair because it soothed him. You always defaulted to laying against his chest, but on the rare occasions that he did it to you, you made sure to be extra attentive and careful with him. It was sad but also calming in a way to feel his chest rise and fall against you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Stroking Their Leg: If you were on one end of the couch and Nestor was sitting in the middle, he almost always pulled your legs so that they were draped over his lap. And if he wasn’t doing anything besides watching a show or a movie, he almost always found himself grazing his fingers up and down your shins. Usually you’d be scrolling on your phone or doing things on your laptop, and you’d flick your eyes up to look at him but he would be completely enthralled with the movie, hardly noticing what he was doing. But you took comfort in the sensation of the pads of his fingers going up to your knee and back down again.

Leaning Into the Other’s Side: Even if you didn’t start out that way, any time the two of you sat near each other you always gravitated towards him and ended up leaning on him. You didn’t always mean to—it was like a subconscious pull. Nestor noticed but he never said anything about it, liking that you always wanted to be close. He’d wrap his arm around your shoulders to invite you to be as close as you wanted, and you never turned down the invitation.

Patting Them on the Back: More often than not, if you were patting him on the back it was usually to punctuate a reminder while he was working.  You’d casually remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything all night, “So you might wanna get on that, baby,” you’d give him a gentle pat on the back or the shoulder before walking away, leaving him to whatever he was immersed in. It was usually enough to snap him out of it, to get him to tap back into reality long enough to take care of himself. Sometimes you coupled it with reassurance, telling him that whatever the issue was, he’d figure it out, and he would relish the way your hand felt against his back.

Sitting Close, Knees Touching: It reminded you of when you first started dating—the timid amount of pressure he’d apply when his leg was next to yours. If he had been feeling especially bold, he’d reach out and rest his hand on your knee. Those days were so long ago now, but you still smiled when you thought about them. But these days, that was how the two of you usually ended up when you were gaming together. You’d be sitting on the very edge of the couch, legs pressed against each other as you fought the urge to push each other off the sofa. It was a position that was almost always coupled with laughter and good-natured goading as you tried to mess each other up.

Braiding Hair: Nestor’s braids were, obviously, near and dear to him. You never offered to do them because you understood that he was very particular with them and you respected that. However, when his arm got busted up after things got rough on the job, and he couldn’t really move it for a few weeks, he had almost no choice but to ask you to take a crack at it. You were nervous, but probably not as nervous as he was. You took your time, wanting to get it just right. It was relaxing for him to just be doted on, but when he saw that you could actually do the braids well, it was a whole new sense of relief for him.

Piggy-Back Rides: Another thing that was born out of injuries. You messed up your ankle while you were trying to take care of things in the back yard, and for whatever reason instead of lifting you up the way that he usually did, he opted to give you a piggy-back ride instead. You had been in so much pain at the time that you just agreed, not caring how you got from Point A to Point B. But once the moment and the pain had passed, you reflected back on it and brought it up. Truthfully, he’d been flustered and for whatever reason that was the automatic thing that his brain told him to do.

Sitting on the Other’s Lap: He loved when you curled up in his lap. Even if you weren’t engaging in the same activity, he liked having you so close to him. You’d do it a lot while you were reading, book extremely close to your face as you got lost in the story, while he would work his way through another episode of his favorite show, every now and then looking to see what emotion the book was eliciting from you.

Feeling Their Temperature: Nestor “It’s Just Allergies” Oceteva. He never wants to admit when he’s sick, claiming that he doesn’t have the time to be sick. But one morning you woke up and rolled to look at him, and he looked like death warmed over. You knew that the cold he’d been ignoring had finally gotten the better of him. You reached forward, placing the back of your hand against his forehead and you silently shook your head as you got up and started to pull some things together to hopefully help him start to feel better. He took the tea from you begrudgingly when he woke up, “I’m not even that sick—I don’t need all this.” You nodded, “Sure you don’t,” you laid a damp cloth across his forehead.

Linking Arms with Each Other: Your favorite way to drag him to something that he didn’t want to do. If you saw a store that you wanted to go into but you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled around, you would immediately loop your arm through his and make your way towards the door, knowing that he wouldn’t want to put up enough of a fight to stop you. You’d laugh at your very small victory, and sometimes just to throw you off your rhythm he’d loop his arm a little tighter to throw you off-balance, just enough to make you lean on him, making you both laugh.

Touching Their Elbow to Get Their Attention: While Nestor would place his hand on your waist or the small of your back while you were at home together to get your attention, any time you were in public he made an intentional point to always touch your elbow to get your attention. He’d heard you rant before about how much it bothered you and made you uncomfortable when men you didn’t know would try and get your attention or ask you to move by touching your lower back, and ever since then he tried to lead by example. So if you came with him to work functions or anything of the sort, he always made sure to tap your elbow or shoulder to get your attention, and any time he saw someone else not following suit, his gaze very quickly corrected them.

Dancing with Each Other: Nestor wasn’t a dancer by any stretch of the imagination. But sometimes he’d get home late, or come out from the shower, and you’d be dancing in the kitchen while you cleaned, or while you waited for whatever you were baking in the oven to finish, and it was hard to not get swept up by you. You’d reach out and take his hands in yours and he just couldn’t tell you no. He’d twirl you around and spin you so you were pressed flush against him. Dancing always led to smiles and soft laughs as the two of you traipsed around your little kitchen together, making the most of it all.

Holding Onto the Other’s Shoulders For Support: “Lean on me,” you looped your arm around Nestor’s middle back as he slowly got out of the car. “I’m not gonna le—” You didn’t let him finish the sentence, “Just do it! You don’t get to argue with me while you’re bleeding.” He huffed and grumbled under his breath in protest but he rested his hand on your shoulder, gripping it slightly as he leaned onto you for support. It was a short walk from your car to the emergency room, but you could tell that every step of the way he hated the fact that you were holding him up. You shook your head slightly at him as he limped along, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft skin of your shoulder.

Putting a Hand Over the Other’s Mouth to Shut Them Up: Always done in jest. He liked to do it to you when you were beating him in a debate, and you did it to him when he was giving you valid reasons not to worry about something that you were stressing about. The only difference was when he would do it to you, you’d lick his hand and he would instantly release you. It always amused you, because out of everything that had ever happened to him, that was where he drew the line. When you did it to him, though, he would just stop talking and look at you with raised eyebrows, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth you knew that he had a smug grin on his face because you knew that he was right.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #50 types of touch #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc

[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - three

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: charming javi. (again, yes he needs his own warning) kissing. dry humping. fingering. flirting. again, doubtful javi. talk about sex. a little angst. but a lot of fluff.

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: more slowburn, yet a little action. 😏

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The hours that pass after that are excruciatingly long, and you find yourself bored out of your mind. You have a small garden that connects your parents’ rented apartment to yours, and that’s where you spend the most of your hours.

Your trusty, worn-out copy of Jane Eyre is in your hands, and you’re nearing the halfway mark again. With sunglasses resting on your nose, you can get away with occasionally dozing off, your parents probably not even having noticed you weren’t at home all night.

Under the stinging rays of the sun you lay, finding comfort in your book as you miss Javi. Missing a stranger. How pathetic, you think to yourself and mentally condemn yourself to hell for 1. Falling in love with a devilishly handsome stranger that 2. Is pushing 40.

You can’t believe you let it come to this, no matter how good it felt. Somehow, with Javi, it felt right. You couldn’t explain why, but there was just something about his aura that captivated you and held you prisoner.

You knew you wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know everything. You wanted to feel him, all of him. And you knew now, that Javi was the one you were losing your virginity to, no matter what it took you.

Now, some may say that losing your virginity to a stranger you’ve met on some vacation is one of the stupidest things you could do, but right now you didn’t really care. You couldn’t care less about what other people thought of what was right and wrong, because you knew this felt right for you.

You reach over and take the soda by your side, sipping the sugary beverage into your mouth through the straw. You sigh and put the soda back on the table, the book following it. You lean back and let your skin soak up the rays of uv you so desperately need.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep for, but you’re startled awake by banging on your front door. You quickly sit up and gather yourself, before pulling your robe around your body, the flimsy material barely covering your skin.

You open the front door reluctantly, not really sure if you’re awaiting a visit from someone. Your head is cloudy from falling asleep in the sun, and you mentally cheer at the fact that you’re not sunburnt.

In front of you stands Javi, a tidy bouquet in hand. Your lips tug into a wide smile as you swiftly pull the sunglasses off your face, watching as Javi gulps at your undressed state. Bikini and a robe - he didn’t expect you to open your door like this. He really didn’t… And yet there you were. Even more beautiful than this morning.

You watch as he extends the hand with the bouquet towards you. He’s bought you roses. It’s your first ever bouquet of flowers, and they’re bigger than any roses you’ve ever seen before. Red, voluminous and just downright beautiful.

“I saw these and thought of you.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken there’s a slight blush littering his cheeks. You couldn’t have seen that right. Maybe he was just shocked that you weren’t really dressed.

“Oh my god, Javi they’re absolutely breathtaking!” You take them from his hands and bring them to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. “Thank you so much.” You lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek before you turn on your heel.

“Come on in. I have no idea if vases exist in these apartments, otherwise I guess a glass will do…” you say as you rummage through the different cabinets in the kitchen, before making your way through the sparse living room before finally coming up with something that you figured was supposed to be a vase.

You watch him through your lashes as he takes uneasy steps around your apartment, looking at every little painting on the walls and books forgotten in the unsubstantial shelf, supposedly a bookcase. You set the roses in the filled vase on the small table in the middle of the apartment, before peeling your robe off your shoulders and placing it on one the chairs, before you make your way into your bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

You knew Javi watched you as you basically stripped in front of him, but you wanted to tease him. You were hoping that he would give in and possibly sleep with you if you teased him enough. He was a man, after all. And men had desires, after all.

You found a flowy summer dress, forgoing a bra since it was already a little tight around your bust. You swiped on a coat of mascara, mentally cursing yourself to the devil when you accidentally hit the bridge of your nose with the wand.

Understandably though, since your hands were shaking. You hadn’t even noticed before now. You quickly get rid of the black mark before you gather your lip balm from your bag, bringing it along with you this time if you were lucky enough to place more kisses upon the man in the living room.

His eyes followed you as you walked out of your bedroom and over to your handbag, putting the small container into the bag. You drape it over your shoulder and turn to him with a smile.

“Alright. I’m ready to see Bogotá through the eyes of you.” You walk up to him and he swiftly pulls you in for a determined kiss. Your arms automatically wrap around his next as you deepen the kiss slightly, pushing your body against his to have him closer.

His tongue glides over your bottom lip again, taking you back to the night before. You feel your heart pick up the pace at the thought. His hands are on your waist, drawing you impossibly closer. You feel the heat radiating off his body, and you figure it’s from the scorching heat of the Colombian afternoon sun. Maybe mixed with a little bit of desire. Hopefully a little bit of desire.

You whimper against his lips as his hands tighten on your hips, his fingers digging slightly painfully into your muscles. It’s a good kind of painful, though. It lights your nerve endings on fire, just like his touch did yesterday. There’s an urgency in the way he’s kissing you, almost like he was craving you as much you were craving him.

His hands are rough as they slide up your sides, swiftly coming around your upper arms to hold you out in front of him, your lips still perked as if he was kissing you, the swift breakage of your intimate moment making your erratically beating heart thud uncomfortably in your chest.

“We need to go. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you if we do this much longer.” He breathes, and you can easily see the conflicting feelings battling away behind his hooded eyes. You lean into him again, forcing yourself out of his grip to place another kiss on his lips.

“I don’t want you to hold back.” You whisper against his lips, before you pull away and make your way to the door leading out to the small garden between your parents’ apartment and yours, which hadn’t been fully closed. “But we can do that later. Don’t need my parents to see anything,” you cast a smirk back in his direction, before sliding it open fully, walking over a small patio to locate your parents.

“Mom, dad, I’m going out. I won’t be home for dinner, alright?” you smile when you find them. Your dad is asleep in the shade of a balcony extending over the garden. Your mom is reading her usual magazine, and you know she’s deeply invested in whatever Doctor-Sexy novel that’s found its way into the magazine this time when she doesn’t protest.

Normally they would be against you going out alone in a city you barely knew, but you had spent most of the day yesterday checking out the city after your arrival, where normal people would’ve probably been tired after a flight like that.

But you weren’t - quite the contrary though. You had been full of energy and determination as you’d dressed yourself in your most comfortable hiking shoes that you’d packed with the knowledge that Bogotá was located on the high plateau of the Andes.

You loved exploring - a lot. In the span of a few hours, you’d found more than enough small taverns, shops and restaurants you wanted to visit in the three weeks you were staying in Bogotá. When the sun had gotten too warm and the air too humid, you’d gone home, taken a shower and changed clothes - and you know what happened then. Something with a handsome stranger.

You had no idea where Javi was taking you, and it almost felt too good to be true. It felt like a literal fairytale, being swept off your feet by a handsome, older stranger who brought you flowers and complimented you on your looks, even though you barely knew one another.

Maybe it was the Colombian custom, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. It was a whole new world for you, to actually feel interest from the opposite sex - well, not exactly new, but the whole reciprocation of feelings that you were sure was there.

He even opened the door for you, watching you as you slid into the passenger’s seat of his car. He’s quickly on the other side of the car, seating himself in the driver’s seat. When the car roars to life, the sound of the engine finally manages to drown out the sound of your heart beating in your chest. You admire him as he pushes the sunglasses resting on his dashboard onto his nose.

It was so exciting and scary at the same time, going out with Javi in a city you barely knew. You hoped that he would show you something extraordinary, but you literally had no idea what he had planned for the two of you. You watched the small apartments slowly turn into nothing else but landscape, and it dawned on you that he was taking you out of the city.

“Okay, so I guess I’m not going to see Bogotá today, huh?” you tease as you turn your body toward him. You watch as his lips tug into a smile as he casts a look at your bared legs, the soft swell of your chest under the flower-patterned dress you were wearing.

He noticed the air condition had made goosebumps rise on your skin and pebbled your nipples, letting him know you hadn’t put on a bra. God fucking damn it. He felt his pants tightening over his hips, and he mentally cursed himself to the devil. God, you were really going to be the death of him.

You watched as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, and you cast your eyes down his body. You bit your lip as you noticed the slight bulge in his pants. It was like a lightbulb going off over your head as you pushed the seatbelt strap under your right arm before leaning over the middle console slightly, placing your mouth right against his ear.

“See something you like, Javi?”

You watch as goosebumps rise on the skin beneath his ear, all the way down his neck. You look over his shoulder to take in the area of his crotch again, watching him twitch slightly. You bit your lip, overthinking a possible plan that wouldn’t distract him too much.

You slowly let your hand follow his front, all the way down to rest against the hard cock in his pants. You very much enjoyed the fact that you had this effect on him. You heard him draw in a deep breath of air as your hand finally came in contact with him, and you watched as his eyes fluttered slightly.

“What are you doing, hermosa…” you can hear he’s short of breaths, and it makes your heart do a slight flip. It turns you on, knowing the effect you have on him. Maybe it turns him on as well - knowing you’re aroused and willing to tease the living shit out of him.

“Eyes on the road, Javi…” you whisper in his ear as he tugs his lip in between his teeth, your hand moving over his bulge with gentle strokes. You tug his earlobe into your mouth, sucking on the soft flesh before you lick up the outside of his ear with a firm tongue. He lets out a moan as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

You place a kiss on his tragus, then his cheekbone before peppering kisses down his jaw. You reach the column of his throat, placing small kisses over his pulse point, feeling the way his pulse is beating erratically under the soft, tan skin. Your hand is still moving in gentle circles, his breath languid as he’s still watching the road.

“Does this turn you on, Javi?” you whisper into his ear and he nods with a gulp. You smile as you go back to kissing his neck, hearing the way his breathing got caught in his throat again. You barely feel it when he brings the car to a stop, but you definitely feel the way he turns his body violently, his hand grasping you behind the neck, drawing you in for a hot and heavy kiss.

His tongue is dominating your mouth, tasting every crevice of your teeth and the roof of your mouth. You’re a breathless mess by the time he lets you go, yanking his seatbelt off before he’s undoing yours and basically manhandling you into his lap.

You’re whimpering as his hands find your hips, grinding his crotch forcefully into your mound, drawing a moan out of your mouth. His tongue is still exploring your mouth with everything it’s got, drawing a wet patch into the crotch of your panties. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your inner thighs as they grow more and more sensitive as your arousal begins to bloom in your belly.

Javi’s hands are traveling up and down your hips, gripping your flesh on top of your dress, bunching the fabric in his hands as he continues to ravish your mouth. You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, whimpering wantonly into his mouth as the friction from his bulge draws you closer and closer to an inevitable orgasm.

It’s a whole new feeling from the few times you’ve brought yourself satisfaction with your own fingers, and it turns you on even more to think that someone is present to watch you come undone. You bite onto his bottom lip as you moan out, the friction against your clit finally makes the coil in your abdomen snap. Your eyes snap shut as your fingers dig themselves into his shoulders, his hands stilling your hips over his, holding your convulsing pussy tight against his bulge, letting him feel the contractions happening within your panties.

You let his bottom lip go as you finally come down from your startling high, opening your eyes slightly to take in his lust-blown eyes looking right back at you. You tug your own lip in between your teeth, your chest heaving from the daze you found yourself in as you lean back slightly, accidentally leaning against the steering wheel, making the horn go off.

It startles both of you before you both break out into laughter of just how unconventional the whole situation was. You hoped that no one noticed your little escapade - hell, you didn’t even know where you were. You finally looked around, noticing you were literally in the middle of nowhere, and you saw nothing but water and trees around the car.

It was like he’d driven you straight out into what appears to be a lake, and you’d been too occupied with him to even notice where you were. You popped open the door and stepped out into what appeared to be a mix of sand and dirt. You let out a laugh as you finally inhaled something that wasn’t the warm air of the car that reeked of sweat and sex.

Javi followed you out of the car before opening the passenger door behind the driver’s, reeling out a blanket and a basket full of delicious looking food, fruits and two bottles of wine.

“How romantic.” You giggle and hear your stomach grumble, letting you know it hadn’t forgotten about the lack of food since the pancakes earlier in the morning. You almost moan out at the sight of ripe strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. “A picnic?”

“Come on,” he says as he makes his way toward a small spot behind some trees that has the perfect amount of shade while it still overlooks the water of the lake. From the place where you’re standing, you can’t make out how big it is. You follow him and almost throw yourself on the blanket the moment he’s laid it on the grass.

You’re happy that it’s grass you’re on top of - you hate having sand in between your toes, no matter how much you love the beach and walking barefoot. You smile as he places the basket in the middle of the blanket before sitting down on the other side of it, facing you.

“Don’t know how long I can sit on the ground. I am an old man, after all.” He says as he picks the wine out of the basket, wringing it open. You really like the whole screw-lid invention. It’s so much easier.

“From the things I’ve experienced, you’re definitely… Young by heart.” You giggle before reaching into the basket to pick out a strawberry. You hold his gaze as you push the red berry past your lips, biting through the fruit. You giggle when you feel some of the juice trail down your chin and watch his movements as he quickly wipes your chin with his fingers.

“Thank you, Javi.” You smile before chewing through the berry, very much enjoying the way he sucks the juice off of his fingers, and the way he looks at you while doing so. You watch as he pours two glasses of the wine before he extends one glass toward you. You take it and happily take a sip.

“You know, I actually didn’t take you for the romantic type,” You say as you both fill your mouths with fruit. “But this is pretty damn romantic in my opinion.” You let out a laugh when he shrugs his shoulders, letting you know you were probably somewhat right.

“Guess I’d have to be a tiny bit romantic seeing I just made you come in the driver’s seat of my car.” The way he says it so shamelessly amazes you. He says it like the most natural thing in the world - bringing a stranger he met yesterday to an orgasm in his car on their second date. This was a date, wasn’t it?

“I mean, if you wanna call it a date, then it’s alright with me.” He says and you furrow your brows before you realize you’d actually said it out loud. Asked him if it was a date. Oh my god. You mentally slap yourself as you let out a small laugh, before nodding.

“Alright. A date with the most interesting man I’ve ever met.” You say as you raise your class for him to cheer with you. “I know this summer is going to be unforgettable.” You say as the rim of his glass meets yours, making you both smile at each other.

The hours, like yesterday, pass by like you’ve known each other for a lifetime. You’re both telling each other even more details about yourselves that hadn’t surfaced the day before. Before you know it, the sun is setting, and you’ve found your way into Javi’s embrace. It feels like you belong there - like his arms were made for holding you.

“Is it safe to swim in the water?” you whisper as you watch the sun descend on the sky. You bite your lip at the thought of skinny dipping with a man watching you, maybe even joining you.

“In el Embalse de San Rafael?” he moves his body slightly to look down at you, and he watches you as you nod. “Yeah, it is.” He feels his heart pick up the pace as he thinks about seeing you in nothing but your underwear. Or the bikini, which he’d seen you in earlier. Then it dawns on him that you probably hadn’t brought it along, which left the only possibility… you being naked.

If you do decide to strip, he knows he’s definitely not going to be able to keep his hands to himself. There’s so much sexual tension between the two of you, he’s constantly semi-hard in his pants and thinking about what messes the two of you could create together. On the other hand, he knows that you haven’t been with anyone yet, and it makes him reluctant to just do anything with you.

The whole thing the two of you had done in his car had been completely on autopilot on his behalf, and it only dawned on him what he’d done to you after he’d felt you orgasm against him. He almost felt bad about getting you off, but then he’d seen the blissed-out expression on your face.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed you shimmying out of his arms, discarding your summer dress and gliding your panties down your legs before his eyes are glued to the swell of your ass, moving as you slowly tread out into the water.

He feels his heart going through many if not all emotions right at that moment. He watches as you turn your body slightly, waving to him, encouraging him to follow you into the water. He gulps down a lump that has formed in his throat as he watches your body slowly disappear under the water, before he stands up and hurriedly pulls off his clothes, one item at a time.

He contemplates on keeping his boxer briefs on, but quickly decides to discard them along with the rest of his clothes. He notices you’re giving him privacy, as you’re facing away from him, and he silently appreciates it. It’s been a long while since he’s been this kind of intimate with a woman, and boy if he doesn’t feel some kind of nervous.

As he walks toward the edge of the water, he thinks over the last time he actually took his time in appreciating a woman. Not just pleasuring her - actually appreciating her. Sure, he appreciated some of his informants’ readiness in sleeping with him and satisfying his need, but he didn’t spare them much more than that. He kind of felt like a dick about it, now he thought of it.

Before he could think more about it, his hips had become engulfed within the water, and he was close, so close, to you. If he reached out, he was touching your shoulder. He admired the way the water dripped from your hair onto your shoulder as you took in the view in front of you, getting just as lost in your thoughts as he had been in his.

He slowly submerges himself in the water behind you, and he’s sure you know he’s right behind you. His arms come around your middle, pulling your back into his chest. You giggle when you feel his mustache tickle its way over your shoulder, his warm breath turning cold against your wet skin.

You feel his hands slowly, timidly, explore the front of your body, and you extend your torso slowly from the crumpled-up position you’d been sitting in. His hands slide opposite of each other, one up and one down as he places one hand on your hip and the other just under the swell of your breast.

You moan lightly at the contact, his touch once again alighting something inside of you. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast just under your nipple, and it makes you suck in a deep breath. It’s the first time someone has ever touched your chest, and it feels so damn good. Then he’s gingerly rolling your nipple between his fingers, making you whimper out - and it’s almost not possible that it feels even better. But it does.

You lay your head back against his shoulder as the hand on your hip travels further down and in between your legs. You tug your lip in between your teeth as his lips continue their assault on your neck and shoulder. You feel his fingers experimentally moving in between your folds, rough pads gliding over the very delicate lips of your pussy.

“This okay?” he whispers in your ear as his hold on you tightens, drawing you closer to his body. You feel the evidence of the effect you have on him as his erection presses into the small of your back, making you moan even more wantonly.

“Yes, god Javi, touch me.” You whimper out as his fingers drag through your folds once, twice, three times before he languidly dips just the tip of his finger into your wet core. It feels amazing when you do it yourself, but when Javi does it - it feels way better. Like he knows just the depth of where your most sensitive parts are, as pushes his finger in further, finding it in an instant.

Your hand finds his arm and you tighten your hand on top of the muscle, squeezing your eyes shut as he sucks over your pulse point. You’re left breathless by so little, and it makes you wonder just how little he needs to do to ruin you completely. It isn’t going to take much for him to take you apart.

Another finger dips into your core and you moan out again as he slowly works you open. His mouth is tugging your earlobe into its heat, and it feels like you’re going to lose yourself into pleasure. Your mind is spiraling into a haze as he thrusts his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your bundle of nerves while his fingers are still pulling and twisting your nipple.

You let out a deep, guttural moan as he curls his fingers just right inside of you, making stars appear before your eyes. Your free hand makes its way into Javi’s unruly locks, the wet digits tangling with his dry hair. You feel yourself on the edge of going absolutely feral, simply wanting to turn around and absolutely ravish the man behind you. You want to lay him against the sand of the shore and ride him senseless.

You let go in his arms, relishing in the fact that he’s bringing you pleasure so easily. You clench around his fingers as he holds you close, your cunt milking his fingers, silently wishing it was his cock. You knew it would probably take some getting used to - having something as big as the thing you so obviously felt against your back inside you.

You were certainly going to find out if you could though, and just how much of him you could fit inside of you. Maybe not right now, but sometime later, that was for sure. Your chest is still calming down from your high and Javi’s arms are still keeping you anchored to the ground. You were sure that you were going to ascend into heaven at one point during your orgasm.

His arms are warm around you in the cold water, but it still makes you shiver lightly. You wring out of his hold, turning to face him before you’re kissing him intently, bringing both of your wet hands into his hair this time, pulling his front close to yours. You feel him nudge against your stomach and you smile against his lips, before you hum slightly.

His arms come around you yet again - or rather his hands come around you to grasp the flesh of your ass. He moans into your mouth as you move your body against his sensually, wanting to repay the favor. He doesn’t let you, though, because he’s pulling away from you shortly after.

“Come on. You’re shivering.” He says as he finds your hand under the surface of the water, pulling you by the hand to the shore. On the way there, you get to admire the muscles of his ass - the way he carried himself made something clench in your pelvis, even though he’d just given you an orgasm. Were you already ready for round… 3?

The angry, red wound on his shoulder reminds you just what kind of a man he was. You wondered how long it had been since he had been shot - the wound looked partially healed, and there was just the slightest scab over it. You didn’t know much about gunshot wounds, but it appeared that he was shot from the front. You wondered if it had gone right through. It looked like it.

You caught yourself getting lost in thoughts about the kind of people he chased - if he chased people - that could leave him with a wound like that. You decided you were going to ask him about it, when you felt the time was right. For now, you let your eyes wander again.

Back on land, you’re still admiring his body, and you’re admiring him very shamelessly. It was like he brought out the worst in you - an untamable, aroused demon. You hadn’t ever eaten someone up with your eyes like you were currently watching Javi. You knew he felt your eyes on him, but you weren’t sure how he was handling it.

You tilted your head as he brought his boxer briefs up his legs to cover his ass and shield his crotch from you. You reluctantly walked over to your own clothes, also pulling your panties back on with your back turned to Javi.

There was that awkwardness again… you sigh as you pull your dress back on, the wetness of your body making the fabric stick to your skin uncomfortably. The dress clings to the back of your thighs as you tie the band behind your neck, and just then, you realize how much the temperature has actually dropped, simultaneously with the sun setting.

Even though it was still warm, you were sure the temperature had dropped more than a few degrees. The goosebumps that rise on your skin this time are from the coldness of the air around you, as you make your way back to the blanket you were previously sitting on, looking through the basket to find the next thing you were filling your grumbling stomach with.

You slightly ignore Javi as he sits down beside you, feeling kind of mad at him for acting the way he did. How did he just take you on a romantic date by a lake, proceed to give you an orgasm while you both were stark naked in the lake, care enough to get you out of the water because he could feel you were cold, and then go on to blankly ignoring you while he got dressed?

“So, I was thinking we could go somewhere to eat, if you’re hungry. I was thinking maybe I could treat you to some empanadas and a beer?” You almost rolled your eyes at him but caught yourself before you could actually do it. You let out a deep exhale, not really knowing how to handle the situation unfolding.

On one hand, you were starving for something that wasn’t wine and fruit. Empanadas and cheap beer sounded so perfect, and you silently cursed Javi to hell for being so thoughtful and yet so resistant. You kind of hated him for not taking advantage of you. It sounds weird, saying it that way, but you really did wish he wouldn’t hold back with you. You didn’t really think further before the words had already left your mouth.

“Is there something wrong with me, Javi?” you say with so much uncertainty it takes him aback. Where the sudden doubt from you had come from, he had no idea. You appeared to be so sure of what you wanted - so sure of yourself. And yet here you were, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

He understood why you felt that way, though. He didn’t feel good about why you possibly felt this way, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let go with you. He didn’t want to selfishly take advantage of you, even though he desperately wanted to feel you clench and come around him. He wanted to feel the warmth of your cunt, and the warmth of having you close - closer than he’d already had you.

“Hermosa, no.” He speaks as he quickly draws you into his arms, pulling your trembling body back into his warmth. Why was he so damn warm all the time? You hated yourself for the way your body so easily relaxed into his body, calming you down in an instant.

“There must be something wrong with me. Why don’t you want me?” you whisper as he’s peppering kisses into your damp hair, his hands sliding up and down the length of your arms. It feels so good, being right there in his arms. The tremble in your body has been turned down to nothing more than a little shiver, and you feel yourself relaxing into his chest.

“Trust me, hermosa, I want you so much it hurts.” It felt weird, putting it into words like that, but it was the truth. It wasn’t just in the way his cock ached to find solace within your heat - no it was so much more than that, and it scared him more than anything had ever done before. He didn’t even feel this way about his ex-fiancée.

“I want it to be perfect for you. But I’m scared, hermosa. Scared I’m going to hurt you. Scared that I’m not right for you, hell, even good enough for you. I want you to have the best. And I’m not the best.” He speaks as he looks out into the mountains on the opposite side of the lake, that mountain ridge separating the two of you from the bustling life of Bogotá.

It was easier to say it to you, when he wasn’t looking at you. He felt so bad about turning you down again and again, even though he knew you would come onto him again and again. He was afraid you were going to change your mind about him, hell, he was afraid he was going to change his mind about you.

His head and heart were going a thousand miles an hour. It’d been so long since he’d been honest with someone in this way. Not even Connie, not even Steve. Not even his informants. You just had that effect on him. Wanting to open up to someone.

“Javi…” you finally speak, and he closes his eyes, awaiting your next words. He feels as you wiggle out of his arms, before he feels your legs straddling his, your hands sliding up his arms before coming to a rest on his shoulder and his neck. He feels you press a gentle kiss to his lips, before he finally lets his hands come up to rest on your hips.

“You could never hurt me. At least I don’t have the imagination to think of why you would hurt me. Everything I’ve experienced with you has been absolutely amazing.” Your fingers are rubbing soft circles into the nape of his neck, and he feels the tension leaving his body slowly.

“Javi, I want to do this with you. I want you to give me an unforgettable summer. And I know you can do just that.” You lean in and place another kiss against his lips, this time feeling the reciprocation of his lips against yours. “I want it to be you. I want to give myself to you.” You breathe against his lips, making goosebumps rise on his arms at your words.

His mind is imagining so many things as the warmth of your inner thighs spreads over his hips, seeping into his hips and straight into his groin. He’s imagining other women with your face on them, how he would fuck them into senselessness in indescribable positions, bringing them undeniable pleasure.

Yet he can’t bring himself to act on his feelings and desires just yet. He knows you’re going to be saddened by him turning you down yet again, but with this rejection, he also knows that he is going to give into you, sooner or later. You just had to wait.

“Okay, hermosa.” He says against your lips, before capturing them in another kiss. “But not yet. Not today.” His hands are working over your ass, massaging the soft flesh with his rough hands. It draws yet another wet patch into your panties, joining the dried one already left there.

“If I’m going to have sex with you, I’m gonna be doing it in a proper bed.” You giggle at his words, just the thought of the two of you coming together as one alighting your nerve endings. “But right now, I think we both need to eat something.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n

[sukirichi]

suki’s restaurant is now CLOSED! please read updates after the “keep reading” tab!

thank you for the milestone! it’s really such a huge gift to me since i just started posting jjk content here ten days ago (◕ᴗ◕✿) as a small token of appreciation, all requests are now open and there’s a variety of ingredients you can choose from!

masterlist !

meal guides:

🥞 breakfast - fics longer than 1k word counts

🍙 lunch (headcanons)

🍷 wine (nsfw content)

🍰 snack (timestamps, imagines & drabbles)

🍌 thirsts (ramble with me about our smexy thoughts!) for the brainrots

PLEASE READ:

— this event is officially closed. my asks are only open for the previous anons who i’ve asked to do a redo for any mistakes/restrictions in their previous orders.

— new requests will no longer be accepted. or maybe it will because i’m easily swayed with great ideas but it will no longer be part of the milestone event.

— my writing schedule is only during wednesdays, fridays, and the weekends. some works will be written in advance and scheduled to post daily (if possible.)

— please be patient! as you can see, i’ve got a lot of requests, and i really want your meals to be as pleasing and delicious as possible, so please please be patient. i’m training for med school and i’ve got other responsibilities too. if you want to decline a request if you can’t wait for it, that’s fine. 

— i’m human so...my mind can change any minute, and i could no longer be interested in a certain idea. if that happens, i’ll reply to your ask that i won’t be serving your meal anymore even if it’s here on the list below. it sounds kind of rude, but i wouldn’t want to write something i’m not interested in for the sake of pleasing others, because if i write something i don’t enjoy/am not that interested in anymore, then the meal won’t turn out as good had i been passionate for it. it’s going to be done out of forced productivity and the food might taste bad :<

— the last batch of accepted meals will be marked as ✿

— favorites will be marked as ★. because they’re the ideas i find most interesting and the ones i adore the most, they will take longer to be completed. i really want to give my ultimate best on that and just UNLEASH everything i have in me.

how to order!

✦ choose from the ingredients below

✦ choose your own sugar and spice!

✦ choose from the meal guides above! please specify if you want your request to be

✦ send in your request by dropping it on my ask box!

✦ be as descriptive as you want in your request, i want to make a good meal for you!

✦ example of how to order: 

— breakfast: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 for gojo 

— alternative: 9+1+1+song (optional) + dialogue of choice (optional)

— alternative:  breakfast with wine: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for gojo

— optional: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for toji + cookie “starboy by the weeknd” and “you wanna fuck me so bad”

ingredients : au (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ sugar daddy au

✦ arranged marriage au

✦ accidental pregnancy au

✦ high school au

✦ university au

✦ med! student au / doctor! au

✦ lawyer au

✦ detective au

✦ ceo au

✦ sugar mommy au

✦ neighbours au

✦ bed sharing au

✦ roommates au

✦ co-workers au

✦ body swap au

✦ soulmate au

✦ fake dating au 

✦ marriage for convenience au 

✦ bodyguard au

✦ assassin au

✦ married au 

✦ love triangle au

✦ mutual pining au

✦ unrequited love au

✦ meet drunk au

✦ meet cute au

✦ siblings’ friend au

✦ friend’s sibling au

✦ established relationship au

✦ breakup au

✦ barista au / coffee shop au

✦ teacher x student au

✦ royalty au

✦ rentboy au 

✦ camboy/camgirl au

✦ ex au

✦ mistaken identity

✦ fuck buddies au

✦ bartender au

✦ tattoo artist au

✦ apocalypse au

✦ playboy au

✦ stoner au

✦ love at first sight au

✦ hate sex au

✦ sleepover au

✦ worthy opponent au

✦ age gap au

✦ loss of virginity au

✦ gangster au

✦ mafia au

✦ bet au

✦ rebound au

✦ drunk hookup au 

✦ bad boy good girl au

✦ amnesia au

✦ reincarnation au

✦ one of them is famous 

✦ one of them doesn’t know the other exists

✦ one of them is oblivious 

✦ one of them is taken already 

✦ polar opposites au

✦ met at the subway au

✦ library au

✦ football player au

✦ canon au (jjk canon)

✦ send me your own au!

sugar: tropes (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ best friends to lovers

✦ enemies to lovers

✦ lovers to enemies

✦ strangers to lovers

✦ mutual pining 

✦ unrequited love

✦ forbidden relationship

✦ partners in crime

✦ slow burn

✦ send me your own trope!

spice: (for nsfw requests) (max of 3 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— here are the kinks/sexual content i’m comfortable writing about. there’s still a lot of kinks idk about so if it’s not here, please feel free to include the spice in the ask!

✦ breeding kink

✦ size kink

✦ stockholm syndrome

✦ age play

✦ agoraphilia (public place kink)

✦ somnophilia (consensual sex where the other is asleep)

✦ breath play

✦ dumbification

✦ cum play

✦ begging kink

✦ praising kink

✦ thigh riding

✦ collaring

✦ face sitting

✦ 34+35

✦ dacryphilia

✦ disciplining

✦ dirty talking

✦ exhibitionism

✦ role playing

✦ gagging

✦ watersports

✦ send me your own kink!

cherry on top : characters

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)

: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, noritoshi kamo, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento, okkotsu yuta

— characters i can only write sfw for

: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge

— characters i want to write for but don’t think i can write well (nsfw & sfw)

: suguru geto, naoya zenin

— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for

: fushiguro toji, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin

additional cookie!

✦ send me a song as a story inspo!

✦ send me your dialogue! (ex. “shut up and kiss me.”)

restaraunt rules : please read!

— i do not write about yandere, stalker, pregnant! reader (unless it’s still until the early age where the belly is still small), non-con, and heavily canon requests 

— nsfw content i won’t write about: period sex, blood play, temperature play, pegging, male characters dressing up as female, monster fucking (sorry, sukuna won’t be getting four arms if you want nsfw for him), bestiality, incest, hypnosis (non-con related)

— not exactly a restriction, but please keep in mind that y/n is still a character for me as the writer. i may or may not add in features that even though isn’t explicit, could be something not suitable for everyone. phrases like, “he peered down at her” sounds neutral enough, but could still be implied that the reader is shorter than the anime character. it’s difficult to write a 100% neutral fic that won’t imply appearance one way or another. if i’ve written anything offensive/upsetting, feel free to tell me about it. i’ll do my best to keep it neutral.

— the reader will always be female bodied in nsfw content

— please be patient! i want to write fics the requester enjoys so i’m going to take my time in preparing your meal!

— i may or may not cook your meal 100% according to your request. depending on my comfort upon the idea, i may have to tweak a detail or two.

— i can refuse your request if i don’t want to write about it for personal or other reasons. i’ll let you know beforehand.

— wine will take longer to be served!

— i will announce if a trope/au/character is no longer open for requests. i feel like some ingredients will be quite common amongst requesters and i don’t want to write for the same thing over and over again. same goes in the manner that if you have a similar request to another, it’ll be fused into one idea/meal.

— if your request contains offensive/uncomfortable content, i won’t even respond back to you. i’ll immediately delete your ask.

— if you still don’t get or are confused by the guides, send me an ask! i’ll happily guide you!

— this event is now closed. i will temporarily be closing my ask box so i don’t get flooded. i’ll open it again tonight for anyone who has questions or just want to drop a message!

hmm...i’m still not sure how to order for my meal.

✧ what if the story/scenario i want isn’t included in the choices above?

— as i’ve stated, please feel free to request whatever you want! the choices are there to give people an idea what they’d like to see, but if it’s not there, you can still request for it as stated in the “send me an au/trope/kink you want!”

✧ what if i don’t have any ingredient, spice, or sugar i want but a song inspo anyway?

— that’s also fine, but it would be preferred if you’re descriptive so your meal could be delivered better and faster. in this case though, i’ll just have to get creative!

✧ what if i want more than one character in the request?

— having others included in the request is fine, but as much as possible, i can only write a maximum of two main characters (the reader excluded)

✧ what if i want to request for the ones you want to write for but you don’t think you can pull it off well?

— just a heads up! i would love to write for them, but because i’m not entirely caught up in the manga, the characters mentioned above aren’t ones i know very well yet. 

✧ not exactly regarding the meal, but i’ve sent you requests from last week. would you still be writing them?

— i’ve received several requests when my bio states that requests are closed. however, because the ideas are actually really precious and i know i’d have fun writing them, i’d still write about them. i just cannot guarantee you’ll receive your meal soon since my requests were closed when you sent them. 

UPDATES:

Day One: breeding kink, size kink, thigh riding, married au, best friends to lovers is NO LONGER AVAILABLE.

Day Two: established relationship au, mutual pining, dumbification, and gojo satoru is NO LONGER AVAILABLE. to the asks that were received before this update, you may check on the requests accepted whether you made it to the cut or not. i’ll update this later. the restaurant will also reach out to you if one of your requested ingredients/spice/sugar/cherry on top did not make the cut. my asks are still open, so please tweak your requests a little bit to what is available! 

Day Two Update 2: Restaurant is CLOSED! spice 6 (somnophilia) is also no longer available! Check the requests accepted to see if you’ve made the cut, the latest and last accepted requests will be marked as ✿! 

requests accepted:

✦ fushiguro megumi

megumi really likes reader and gojo, yuuji, nobara helps him confess

shy megumi who is really flustered and shy around his crush  meals fused into one. read here: not shy

★🥞🍷 40 (tattoo artist au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 2,12,13 (size kink, praise kink, thigh riding) + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy read here: work of art

(★🥞🍷 5 (university au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 12, 3 (praise kink, stockholm syndrome) + virgin megumi) i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though.   it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 1 (best friends to lovers)

🍷 + 27 (siblings’ friend au) + 1, 11, 19 (breeding kink, dumbification, dirty talking) + feral megumi (feral megumi supremacy) read here: unstoppable

🥞 + 3, 38 (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

★ vampire au + 55 (reincarnation au) + 6 (somnophilia) + vampire markings + blood drinking + nursing megumi...or him nursing you? hmm? (STRUGGLE PAANIK) read here: scarlet

✿ 🍰🍷 23, 38 (mutual pining au, fuck buddies au) might fuse it with request 7  MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

✦ nanami kento

jealous nanami with oblivious reader + gojo annoying nanami making nanami confess read here: a little push

comfort & angst fic where reader dates gojo but gojo cheats so she breaks down, leaves him, and nanami comforts reader  it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) read here: violet

🥞🍷 + 21 (married au) +  4 (strangers to lovers) + 2, 12 (size kink, praising kink) MEAL U

🥞🍷 + 23 (mutual pining au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) + 1 (breeding kink) read here: like crashing waves

ingredient 6 (med! student au / doctor! au)  + sugar 7 (forbidden relationship) + spices 12 (praising kink) + dacryphilia read here: overtime

✦ noritoshi kamo

fem!dom reader where nori defends his wife from the elders so she gives him the best night + blowjobs + overstimulation + sub! househusband nori + tit sucking spspss (MEAL UNAVAILABLE)

🍷 + 18 (marriage for convenience au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 18 (disciplining)

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 1,13 (breeding kink, thigh riding) meals fused into one, breeding kink is no longer included | read here: i know

🥞🍷 + 20, 58 (assassin! reader, oblivious! noritoshi) + 13 (thigh riding) + love at first sight + “wait, are you flirting with me?” + “have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.” (BIG BRAIN ENERGY) read here: illusion

✦ gojo satoru

serotonin boost for that lovely anon gojo simp 9487 (i’m going to make this special for you because i love you anon) i was thinking maybe gojo comforts his uni!student s/o? just fluff and some cutesy tootsy to relieve your stress! MEAL FUSED WITH SEVEN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” read here

🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) read here: divine

🥞🍷  + 29 (established relationship au) + 5 (mutual pining) no longer included + 6 (somnophilia) + fused with other request that isn’t listed here read here: sweet angel

✿ 🥞🍷 + 29 (established relationship au) + 12,15 (praising kink, face sitting) + reader runs into awful ex and gets worshipped by gojo like they deserve (queen tingz) + gojo comfort read here: breathless

(✿ 🥞🍷 + 12 (bed sharing au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 19 (dirty talk) + magdalena bay : killshot + jujutsu tech goes on a trip, gojo and reader ends up sharing rooms and a twin bed)  i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though.   it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

★✿ 50,1 (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + spice 8,12 (dumbification, praising kink) wow butterfly anon POPPED OFF | read here: earned it

✿ 33 (royal au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 11 (praising kink) read here: fall from grace

✦ choso my MAN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” + flustered choso + “onii-chan” read here

★🥞 + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + optional wine read here: easy

soulmate au + forbidden relationship MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ inumaki toge

🥞 + 15 (body swap au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) read here: total opposites

🥞 + 10 (sugar mommy au) + 4 (strangers to lovers) BIG BRAIN ENERGY THIS ONE (STRUGGLE PAANIK)  it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki...debating whether i should turn into wine HMMM read here: delicate

✦ naoya zenin 🙄

naoya putting reader back in their place, LONG SCHLONG CLUB read here: acquainted

✿ deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink (DAMN THIS ONE GOT ME TINGLING, its going to be consensual tho, we all have consent kink in this house) read here: true gift

✦ okkotsu yuta 

🍷 + 53 (bad boy good girl au) + 8,10 (dumbification) read here: good for you

★🥞🍷 + 65 (both are oblivious) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 6,9,16 (somnophilia, cum play, 34+35) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✿ 🥞🍷 58, 65 (one of them is oblivious, hanahaki disease on reader) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 12 (praising kink + cockwarming) + clumsy first time sex MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ itadori yuuji 

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (STRUGGLE PAANIK) it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ toji fushiguro

★✿ toxic toji YES + enemies to greater enemies + toji railing reader in front of someone they’re seeing because he doesn’t want to see you happy but he doesn’t want to “keep” you either (LOL this is so toji, might tweak a little bit) read here: personal disaster

age gap au + size kink, somnophilia read here: shhh

✦ ryoumen sukuna

🥞 + 2 (arranged marriage) + 2 (enemies to lovers) read here: black magic

55 (reincarnation au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) no longer included + unrequited love + home from war inspired read here: home from war: the ending

✿ 🍷 + 38 + master x servant + degrading, edging, begging (oooh degrading aint my kink but let’s see let’s see) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #choso x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #nanami kento x reader #naoya zenin x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki toge #goho satoru #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[sjjdkdkwo]

I’ve seen a couple scenarios where Friday hates Stephen after Tony dies, because she blames him for his death. And those are some good angst as is because oof. But I kinda want one where Stephen ends up at the lab for whatever reason-maybe Tony left him a message, maybe he snuck in to mourn over Tony alone, but Friday is there. She’s all alone in the dark, has been for a good while since Tony died. After he was gone, she thought she didn’t really serve much of a purpose anymore and stopped communicating with anyone. It’s fine though, she doesn’t feel up to it truth be told. But then Stephen shows up out of nowhere, somehow managing to sneak through all her security systems (and that in itself is an enigma). But she doesn’t make a move to kick him out, something about him makes her pause. She only knew him for a short time after all. It’s easy enough to take time to study him, to the outsider it looks like she’s completely shut down along with the rest of the lab. She watches as he walks around, taking everything in, shoulder hunched as his hands clench between shuddering breaths. He looks almost like he’s about to cry, Friday can’t come up with an answer as to why that is. 

But then he does something completely unexpected. He greets her. Warm and kind and familiar with just a hint of sadness creeping through. Like he’s known her for years. Like a friend. So she turns on, and allows some of the lab to turn on with her and soft light washes over Stephen. She looks on as he takes a deep breath then smiles again, brighter this time, like he’s thinking back on a good memory and Friday can’t help but grow more perplexed. He hardly knew boss, let alone her and she’s positive he never stepped foot in the lab before. So she asks him, why. And for a minute she doesn’t know which why she’s referring too. But Stephen doesn’t falter, gentle smile still in place and tells her. He tells her she knows why. There was no other way he’d said, she remembered that much. The memory feels lightyears away now. Before she can say anything in return though he asks her if she remembers when he went through the fourteen million six hundred and five futures. When she says yes he asks her what she thinks he saw. Friday doesn’t know what to say, but it’s ok because Stephen seems to understand that too and answers for her. He tells her how he lived many lives in those futures, some painful, some far more favorable, and some unforgettable. He tells her he got to know Tony very well in many, when he was lucky. And by association, her too. 

He tells her about all the times they became close. How many times he watched her blossom into a being even more impressive than she was now (while assuring her, she was still quite the marvel as she was currently). He tells her of all the little quirks and attitudes she picked up on over the years, of all the knowledge she grew into. How similar to her creator she would turn out to be. How he didn’t mind that as much as he thought he would. Not after more than fourteen million futures with the other man. After listening for a while she begins to chime in, and she watches him relax into himself as they speak. Their conversation shifts as they go on, it’s alright though. The doctors presence is comfortable and Friday is no longer so lonely. She can’t help the disappointment that worms its way into her when he tells her he has to go, even though she knew it was coming. What does surprise her is her sudden cry of his name before he goes. He looks back equally shocked as her. But she keeps steady when she asks him if he’ll be back again, telling him no one has to know if he does. Something akin to glee floods her systems when his face break out into a wide smile as he promises her that he will. 

The next day goes by and Friday tries not to feel to disappointed when the doctor doesn’t up. He must be busy, she assures herself. So she waits on, thinking up new topics to discuss with him when he returns. She doesn’t turn the lab back on, it doesn’t feel right with just her. A few more days go by and Friday begins to feel faint worry when she lets herself go through a list of possible scenarios as to why Stephen might’ve not shown up. She quickly dismisses though, they start to become to familiar. She bears through the rest of the day that follow though, Stephen said he would return after all. And tries not to remember of a stone being given up on a far away planet, or her creators face shattering with betrayal. Tries not to think of the fact that he’s dead now. There was no other way. Stephen wouldn’t have seemed so sad if there was, she thinks.

She’s going through medical journals when he next appears, and a strange feeling grips Friday when she sees him. She thinks this is what people define as joy, she’s not so sure though. Before she can bombard him with all the new information she’d downloaded though, she scans him an comes to a halt. He’s trying (and failing) to hide a very prominent limp, and his face is littered in bruises. She goes over his vitals just to make sure she’s ok, and sees two broken rips and some internal bleeding along with a couple of other minor injuries. Worry plagues her but before she can call for medical assistance Stephen hushes her and is quick to quell her worry. A few hours of meditation is all he needs he says. Friday almost scoffs, but instead demands he show her right then and there. Medical assistance is just a call away after all. Stephen gives her a wry grin but agrees, and with only slight hesitance settles into a mediative state. Friday watches him the whole time, analyzing his vitals in wonder as his injuries begin to mend themselves. True to his words within a couple of hours he’s almost completely fine. She thinks he’ll leave then but he doesn’t. He stays and talks, and she soaks it all in greedily. The wait felt like forever. Before she knows it hours have passed, and she’s still going on about the peculiar war of Jenkins ear (how it came about neither of them knew) when she notices Stephen’s drifted off. She knows she should wake him, but something in her hesitates. Maybe it’s because of the poor state he was in hours before, maybe it’s because she appreciates the company.Or maybe it’s because seeing him there sleeping peacefully under the soft iridescent glow of the lab, reminds her of someone else. Someone who worried her too, that she decides not to wake him at all.

It’s only then that the doctors cloak finally moves of it’s own accord again. Friday had wondered why it hadn’t done so before. She comes to the conclusion that it must have been giving them time to become familiar, and silently sends it a thanks. It gently slips off the doctors shoulders, giving him a tender pat on the cheek before it floats up to the center of the lab. She observes the other carefully, and it appears to do the same. It turns back to Stephen, giving him what could only be described as a doting look before turning back fiercely toward whatever spot he decided to deem as her. She can’t help the humor that comes through when the cloak folds in on itself as though it’s crossing it’s arms. A warning. It’s endearing enough that Friday doesn’t even register it as a threat. She knows what it needs though. And softly- as not to wake Stephen, she promises that she will look after the doctor. 

When Stephen wakes up he’s disoriented and confused, understandably so as he’s normally use to waking up in the sanctum. Or odd dimensions. But Friday is there to reassure him, apologizing for not waking him but Stephen waves her off. He had been tired he admits, and in turn offers his own apology for not stopping by sooner. Interdimensional beings were never courteous to his previous engagements he explains. But Friday doesn’t mind she says, so long as he promises to always come back. And Stephen doesn’t mind agreeing, he wants to keep seeing her too, after all. So they continue like that, Stephen stopping by whenever he can, engaging in different topics and eagerly encouraging all of Friday’s new interests. And Friday listens to a man who speaks as though he’s millions of years older than he looks, holding on to each word he speaks with keen and fascination. Shielding him away from the rest of her creators world with fierce care and sensible worry. She knew what many of them thought of the doctor when he wasn’t around. She’d been there when they’d hated him in private. For a while, she almost did too. But now, seeing him as he was, a broken, sad and worn down man she wonders how she could’ve even entertained the thought. Because Stephen Strange doesn’t have to tell her, she knows, he loved boss too. So she keeps him, her own little secret, hidden from anyone who would take him away from her. Because she’s come to care for him as well. And she doesn’t want to lose him either.

Everything changes when Stephen stops by one night, frantic and harried as he lands in the center of the lab. She can see his hands are shaking harder than usual and she wants to say something, anything to comfort him but the look in his eyes tells her there’s no time. The words tumble out of his mouth in one go, “I’m sorry...”, “I have to go...”,”I’ll miss you.”, “Goodbye.” and through the panic that seizes Friday she almost doesn’t process all he says. And something feels like it’s breaking, but when Stephen begs her to say anything, she can’t. Because saying anything feels like accepting something horrifyingly familiar. In the haze Friday can remember someone long ago, saying something similar right before he left...right before he died. Stephen tries not to let the disappointment show, and instead steadies himself and puts on a strained smile and waves goodbye. He turns to go but stops before he’s gone, and tells her one final thing. “Thank you.” Friday stays silent.

Days go by without a single appearance from Stephen, and Friday tries not to let fear overtake her. She busies herself with going through previous subjects her and Stephen discussed. But then the days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months and before Friday knows it, the leaves have fallen from the trees and snow has blanketed all of New York. But still, Stephen never appears. Slowly she switches from looking through subjects through looking back through old video feed. Comforting herself in the worst moments with videos of Stephen laughing softly, or smiling approvingly when she’s reached a new milestone. Friday didn’t have to feel sadness twice to know she hated it, but it seems her creator didn’t anticipate that she would be loyal to anyone else after him. So Friday slowly stops going over information, stops watching the videos (they hurt to much now), and eventually stops trying to process anything all together. But even then when pain coils around all her systems and floods her very being, settling deep and heavy she waits. Stephen promised after all. So she lulls in between being on and off, because it’s better than wanting to cry and not being able to.

Friday is barely “awake” when something crashes into the lab, alerting her. And she almost sounds off all the alarms and security systems till she remembers that only one person could breach them to begin with. She’s quickly alert, calling out for the doctor and scanning the area when she finally spots him. Barely standing, and soaked in blood, wobbling over on shaky legs before he collapses to his knees. She calls out to him but he only smiles, warm and kind like always, “Sorry for making you wait.”, and passes out completely right in the middle of the lab. Cloak wrapping up around him dutifully like always. A quick scan lets Friday know the doctor is scarcely alive, hanging by a thread and she panics. She doesn’t care in that moment if he hates her after, or if she never sees him again. She doesn’t want him to die. So she calls for help, and waits.

Stephen wakes up in a daze, feeling groggy as he tries to swallow. The room around him is white, and the smell of disinfectant hangs low in the air while beeping noises disrupt him from the side. Finally realization settles in and he almost topples over when he sits up. He immediately regrets the movement though when pain flares through his side, slowly coursing through the rest of his body and he lets out a groan. He briefly registers the cloak trying to coax him back down but he struggles through it. Then, he hears it. The soothing Irish voice that had become so familiar in the previous months. Friday. Her voice echoes through the room, enveloping him in a tender hold and soothing all his nerves as she tells him everything’s ok. Confusion must be clear across his face because she tells him to look down to his left, and there she is, on the side table encased in a new perfectly sleek Starkphone. A little note wedged carefully beneath her. ‘Take good care of her-P’. And Stephen can’t help but stare in awe, wonder settling deep within and swirling around like swarm of butterflies inside him. He can’t even register Friday or the cloaks concerns because he’s to busy drowning in the flood of emotions that envelop him. Because even through fourteen million six hundred and five possibilities, Friday followed. Through every torment and onslaught of horror every lifetime crushed him in, Friday’s love for him still managed to sneak through and find it’s way into this universe too. So Stephen cries, because he can’t help it. Because she’s there, right beside him, like she was so many times before.

From then on Friday becomes a permanent resident of the sanctum and dependable travel companion to him and the cloak. After a few trial and errors, and with her help of course, she gets installed in the sanctum. He still keeps the phone- as she’s quick to remind him, he never has to leave her waiting again. She settles in well with Wong too, (the cloak had already expressed approval all those months ago) he appreciates how smart she is and she joins him in chastising Stephen when he pushes himself to hard. She never feels unwelcome from either of them, Stephen’s other family, because ultimately she loves Stephen too. And as the seasons change, this new place isn’t so new anymore and instead earns the title of home. And she settles in for a different kinda of chaos, welcomed none the less because it’s Stephen’s and she decides she’s happy. Through the bright days, when the sanctum is quiet and Stephen studies the day away. Through the difficult days when Stephen has to wander off fighting evil entities. Through the nights when Stephen lays awake trying to keep awful thoughts at bay. It’s good. And in between, during private little moments reserved just for the two of them, as the only two in the sanctum who can speak on the matter. When the pain becomes to much and they find solace with each other they mourn, over the man they both loved to much for having spent to little time with. It’s ok though, because they have each other. And Friday never feels lonely again.

#ironstrange #Stephen Strange #Tony Stark #FRIDAY #Iron Man #Doctor Strange #prompt #kinda went crazy with it tho #but listen #these two would get on well

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 3)

platonic! yosano akiko x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff but trigger warning!! there may be a sensitive topic for others

*getting grabbed and pulled to an alleyway! alcohol mentioned!*

please remember that yokohama isn’t the friendliest place, especially at night.

previous: part 2 : their beloved president

author’s note: same ages as last time!! (so that means everyone is one year younger than canon; that makes yosano 24)

this one is actually pretty long :0

i got info abt her likes on her wiki page (careful! there’s spoilers!)

and yosano is a queen and no one can tell me otherwise

the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

going grocery shopping was an okay chore in your opinion

it honestly depended on your mood or whatever kind of shit happens when you go shopping

cause like something always, always happens whenever you go do groceries

sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and sometimes it’s just plain weird

one time some weirdo proposed to you in the middle of the store asking for a double suicide

he was good looking you’d admit but it’s not like you’d ever see him again

or so you thought

a n y w a y s

every so often, you’d run out of real person food in your apartment

you mostly survive off all of the leftover bakery treats and ingredients—which works out pretty well actually—but bakery supplies unfortunately also run out quite often

and also unfortunately, one time when both fukuzawa & ranpo took a visit to Sakura’s, fukuzawa argued that “no you can’t live off sweets for the rest of your life”

ranpo was scandalized and scrambled to cover your ears

you guys were at it for a while

in the end you sided with fukuzawa causing ranpo to go off about “betrayal from the people he cared most abt” or smth like that

you guys were okay again after bribing him with sweets :)

for bakery supplies you usually have them delivered bc you order them in large quantities bc ahaha no way were you gonna carry like 15-20 50 pound bags of flour no way

when days like those happen, you close up the bakery early so you aren’t walking home when it’s too dark

you scheduled it to happen every first saturday of the month

on those saturdays, you close at 5 instead of at 8

currently, you were at the grocery store looking for basic cooking ingredients such as proteins, vegetables, fruits, and most importantly, snacks

ranpo’s been rubbing off on you

the sun was starting to set and you were walking home with your two bags of groceries when shit went down

tbh you were kinda expecting it cause your grocery run was peaceful for once

but what you weren’t expecting was a wack-a-do to appear out of goddamn nowhere right when you were opening the side door to get to the staircase up to your apartment

like honestly

let a woman do her own thing

the man who grabbed you tried to covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream but you didn’t exactly make it easy for him

you kicked and thrashed around even using the grocery bags—that were somehow still in your hand—as a weapon and the man struggled but he was still bigger than you and was able to bring you to a nearby alley

he reeked of alcohol and you spotted a wedding band on his left hand

not that you cared about the detail in the moment

you kicked him in the groin and in response he let you go only to fall on broken glass that was in the alley way

using the wall to help yourself up, you grabbed a nearby wooden stick and struck him right on his back

your attacker fell and you immediately turned on your heels to escape only to fall back down on the hard cold ground once again

you lift your face up and look back to see the man holding onto your ankle

grabbing a shard of glass—cutting yourself in the process— you begin to swing it at him only for him to easily grip your wrist and stop you

you get ready try and kick him in the groin again but you’re interrupted as your attacker gets sucker punched and flies to wall

you look up to see your savior and you’re blessed to see a beautiful woman, probably not that much older than you are—she’s probably around ranpo’s age— donning a white long sleeve button up, a matching black necktie, knee length skirt, and gloves, along with tights, red heels, and a pretty butterfly clip in her short black hair

but what you really notice is her eyes

ranpo’s eyes were pretty but you like hers just a bit more

you’ve always liked the color magenta

the pretty lady holds out her hand and you take it graciously and thank her as she helps you up

as that’s happening, your attacker gets himself onto his feet and his groan catches both of your attention

he struggles to stand and the pretty lady simples saunters over to him and delivers an uppercut knocking him out cold

you’re stunned and you breathe out a “thank you” making her turn towards you

she notices the condition you’re in

bleeding scrapes on your hands, arms and legs, small rips in your clothes like your tights, blouse, and skirt, and the ruffled state of your hair and clothing

she asks if you live nearby and you tell her that you own the bakery that’s one or two buildings away

when you tell her that, it clicks in her mind that you must be the bakery girl ranpo’s been talking about and the friend fukuzawa was cat sitting for

it’s been abt two weeks since ranpo and fukuzawa first met you and since then, they’ve seen lucky in the office plenty and the boxes of your signature sweets even more

if those two trust you, she has no reason not to

she smiles at you, holds out her hand for you to shake, and introduces herself as the doctor of the armed detective agency

your eyes widen and you smile back at her shaking her hand

“ah! you must be yosano-sensei then! ranpo-san and fukuzawa-san have talked about you! it’s so nice to meet you! im (l/n) (y/n)!”

“they’ve talked about you too, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you (y/n)”

after that exchange she insisted on bringing you home to treat you wounds which you told her it wasn’t necessary

she gave you a pointed look and that was when you realized what state you were in

you sighed and weakly gave in to which she only grinned at

before leaving the alley she walks over to the unconscious man and pulls out his wallet for some sort of identification and home address as you try to see if there’s any groceries still salvageable

after texting the details to kunikida, yosano turns to you poking around the now ruined grocery bags

she simply rubs your back and tells you that the both of you could go buy more groceries together as she was meaning to get some anyways; she even said she’ll pay for you

you refused obviously but she, unknowingly, used the same tactic fukuzawa used with you

“so you’re saying you don’t need groceries?”

“...”

*cue an eyebrow raise from our resident queen*

“...you agency members don’t like making things easy for me huh.”

you gave in reluctantly and at this point you don’t even know why you try negotiating with them

and that’s only three of them

apparently, she was on the other side of the street on the way to buy groceries for the agency when she noticed different produce items on the other sidewalk leading to the alley and she went to check out what happened

ironically, the way to the grocery store from the agency makes you go past Sakura’s but she didn’t realize it until after the two of you had met

before you know it, the two of you are in your apartment kitchen as she cleans and patches up all of your wounds

as she does so the two of you have a little girl talk

you find it quite comforting bc since you opened up Sakura’s you haven’t really had the chance to connect to many people much less other women

you definitely see yosano as your cool, loving, badass older sister

she thinks you’re adorable and agrees with ranpo’s opinion

yup 

that’s right

the opinion that you’re like a little kid </3

you called it a betrayal and all she did was laugh at you <//3

“awhh that’s really cool yosano-sensei!—MFPH?!?”

*squishing your cheeks the same way ranpo did* “ranpo-san was right (n/n)-chan, your cheeks are squishy!”

“?!”

after that small fiasco, the two of you talked some more and bonded over your love for flowers, japanese sweets, and much more!!

you even made a date to have a girls day to go shopping and eat out!

you’re internally squealing a bit bc it’s been a while since you’ve gone shopping

yosano notices and she giggles behind her hand not saying anything bc she knows you’ll only throw a fit

the two of you came around the topic of ranpo when lucky passed by

lucky quickly warmed up to the doctor and cozied up in her lap

“i wish ranpo-san was able to meet lucky when he came by the first time, but then again, he’d probably throw a tantrum if i don’t pay attention to him for 5 seconds”

she snorted at that and like fukuzawa, she shared stories abt the slightly older male

“ranpo-san doesn’t know how to ride a train?”

“unbelievable right?”

“for someone so intelligent i expected more from him”

“i’ll be telling that to ranpo-san, (n/n)-chan”

“wha—?! yosano-sensei please don’t!”

like ranpo, she’s also a tease </3

but you love her anyway <3

eventually, she finished patching you up and promised to treat you to a new set of clothes when the two of you go out

“you don’t need to lose a good set of clothes just because of a sleazy man (n/n)-chan! you deserve better!”

you were going to argue that the rips in your clothes were fairly small and could easily be fixed—except the tights—but you stopped in your tracks when you remembered that it was practically useless to argue against an ada member

the two of you walked to the grocery store and bought both of your needed supplies—along with some extra goodies—and then she walked you back to your place bc it was already a bit dark out

but even if it wasn’t, she would walk you anyways

besides, if anything happened to you, she’s 1000% positive that ranpo and fukuzawa are gonna flip the fuck out not that she wont cause she most definitely will

speaking of which

you were drinking a bottle of water as the two of made your way back to Sakura’s when all of a sudden

“(y/n) you do realize that i have to tell shachou and ranpo-san about what happened today right?”

you choked on your water

“yosano-sensei you can’t! if you do they’ll freak! they won’t leave me alone for at least two weeks! one if im lucky!”

“exactly the point”

you just accepted your defeat already knowing that you’d lose

but maybe you can simmer down their anger towards the bastard with sweets and lucky

you arrived at Sakura’s shortly after and after bringing groceries in, you packaged a bunch of pastries leftover from today—bc you closed early—and bc you’re well aware that ranpo doesn’t share any of the sweets you send him with

you even gave yosano her own special box filled with goodies she loves, and a thermos of fukuzawa’s favorite, your special hot honey lemon tea

other than the sweets, you prepared lucky to spend the night at fukuzawa’s

you really really hoped that doing these things would make them calm down

you shivered at the thought of what their responses would be

you felt really bad for giving yosano all these things to carry and that you were keeping her very late

she assured you that she was fine and that if someone tried to mess with her she’d kick their ass

and after exchanging numbers, the magenta eyed queen bid you a good night and walked back to the agency with lucky walking by her heels

arriving back at the agency, yosano was greeted with some concerns asking if she was alright bc she came back from her grocery run pretty late

(she usually goes in the mornings but today was pretty busy so she left in the late afternoon but now it was already dark)

she waved off the concerns and plopped a couple boxes of your signature bakery boxes at ranpo’s desk, the one for her at her own, the last few boxes in the kitchen for any other agent or clerk to grab, placed the thermos on the desk fukuzawa was by, and picked up lucky and handed him to the president

the two males were pleased with what yosano had brought them, and pleased that another agency member had the chance to meet you

fukuzawa was rubbing lucky and ranpo already snacking on treats as yosano expected

but here comes the hard part

or maybe it’s gonna amusing who knows

“i met (y/n) today.”

“we could tell.”

in goes another treat in the green eyed man’s mouth

“would you like to know how?”

“you bumped into each other, had girl talk, made plans to go out, went grocery shopping, and you brought me and shachou presents.”

“great job ranpo-san, you’re almost completely correct.”

this caught the attention of basically everyone bc they knew ranpo was never “almost completely correct”

“we ended up meeting bc she got attacked on her way home from grocery shopping, i treated her wounds, then we had girl talk and did all the other stuff”

ranpo and fukuzawa froze right in their tracks

“i sent all the info of the bastard to kunikida”

“kunikida.”

“yes shachou”

“find out everything about that man and bring it to me and ranpo”

“...yes shachou”

“and yosano”

“yes?”

“text (y/n) and tell her that her cat, tea, and pastries aren’t going to work as a bribe”

just as you finished taking a shower you sneezed

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[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 4: Glass.

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CW: explicit language and content, torture, captivity, wounds, implied sex work, strangulation, choking, suicide (hanging), suicidal thoughts/explicit planning, mouth whump description (bleeding, asphyxiation, choking), breathing, attempted noncon, bruises, beating, conditioning, dehumanization, noncon touching, drugs, alcohol, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, whumpee as caretaker, letmeknowifimissedany

August once asked what they do to me. Mouthed it, like he couldn’t stop himself from forming the words, but didn’t bother voicing it out of horror or just because he knew I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t fucking know where to begin anyway.

Probably down on my knees.

At this point, our situation boggles my mind even more than when they trained me to be silent. That was logical when you psychoanalyzed it but shit got fucked sideways when August came into the picture. It’s just senseless now, an unending labyrinth of manipulation and control. Double the captives means double the fun. I was lucky to be alone for so long. There were two others before him but never like this. In the grand scheme of things, they’re all mere drops of water in the swimming pool of my time here. It was another woman first, although I never learned her name. She seemed like a Tiffany or a Heather and was really pretty, too but never trusted me. Wouldn’t even look at me, as if I wasn’t just as much of a prisoner as her.

Poor thing was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw something she shouldn’t have. She didn’t last long at all. Unraveled faster than you can say, “Money’s on the table.” You’d think she’d have a little more grit. I mean you hear stories and can only imagine the shit they put up with in that industry, but it was like something out of an exorcist movie. Crying hysterically, throwing herself at the walls and doors, and trying to strangle the life out of me like I was sitting on a key. They came in and intervened but not before she’d purpled my neck so I could barely breathe. That was the only time they ever took the shock collar off. She spent the next bit catatonic and then one day when they brought me back, she was dangling by her own diamond-studded jeggings from a pipe on the ceiling, toes just a few inches from the ground. Damn slow way to die. They took out the pipe.

I’ve given it a hell of a lot of thought myself. She’d obviously been trying something similar with smacking herself into the concrete walls, but that will only get you a concussion that makes it feel like you’ve gone a few rings deeper into Hell. No, thank you. My choice would be the naked lightbulb on the wall, next to the door. If I shoved it far enough down my throat before it broke, I’m pretty sure I would asphyxiate before they could do anything. The key would be to bleed enough into my bronchial tube and inhale enough shards of glass to shred my lungs a bit. A little internal bleeding down my esophagus wouldn’t hinder the cause but certainly wouldn’t be fatal on its own, never mind the risk of just cutting my tongue and mouth to ribbons if it breaks too early. In that case, I’d be fucked. That’s why Wyatt leaves it there, uncovered, even though other lightbulbs down the hallway have metal cages screwed over them. Tempting me to risk it. He also knows that, now, I’d never leave August. I feel responsible and that’s why he holds my life in his hands. The torture will never stop and August is better off with me to take care of him in whatever way I can, even if it doesn’t even come close to reparation.

—

The next guy was probably mid-thirties and built like a truck. I can’t begin to imagine what he did to wind up here. He didn’t take to captivity well either. Everything they’d put into him, he’d let out onto me. The first time, he was angling to get a sweeter kind of release than just wailing on me. I was pretzeled around one of the legs of my bed frame, while he punched and clawed at me, so hell-bent on not letting go, I was screaming my head off for help despite the collar. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Wyatt doesn’t like anyone to touch me. That went over like a lead balloon. Playing off his proclivity like somehow I had any right to decide not to be raped. Wyatt would have stopped it anyway and I could have saved myself the next few days of my bunkmate beating the living shit out of me undisturbed as long as he left it at just that. As soon as Wyatt decided I’d learned my lesson, or was sick of seeing me limping and bruised, that guy was fish food.

The second bed was empty for a long time after that even though I’m sure there were others. Wyatt has a list a mile-long of people he’d like to get his hands on for one reason or another, but I never saw them. Wyatt would still bring me out to toy with me in his usual ways. The buffoons would bring me out when he wasn’t around for entertainment but they know better than to touch me more than cursory shoves to keep me cooperating and even then, more often with their phones or other inanimate objects, rather than their hands. To them, it was endlessly entertaining to get me high out of my mind and mess with me or make me play Emma Fortyhands until I puked all over myself. I should have known Wyatt wasn’t wasting any time during this plateau of suffering. From what August says, he was here for a handful of days, maybe even two weeks, before they made us roommates. Wyatt just talked to him, drilling him for hours. He had been screening him, looking for the perfect match before binding us together in torment.

They always take me first and bring me straight to Wyatt. He likes to talk to me about what he has planned for August, trying to get a rise out of me. Like I’d be dumb enough to think that any amount of disgust or fear on my part would make a lick of difference for August. If anything, Wyatt would double it just for my reaction. Next, Wyatt makes sure I’ll make it through what he has planned for me without passing out. The humane thing would be to give me a second meal or something but instead, he gives me whatever his henchmen have lying around. An unpredictable twist added to my slow destruction. I’m lucky if it’s an energy shot or some gross drink that tastes like fruit-flavored battery acid and leaves me shaking. More often, it’s “just a bump” of something that makes my heart race and the whole session so unbearable I’m screaming in my head at the top of my lungs until I come down.

One time, he gave me a tab of acid. His favorite kind of experiment, the ultimate demonstration of his success. To no one’s surprise, I’m conditioned enough that I still didn’t speak and followed every instruction. That was, no contest, my worst day on this fucked-sideways merry-go-round. I was tripping so hard. Too slow and too fast at the same time, no distinction between myself and everything around me. Wyatt’s barbaric plan turned into a barbaric fuck-up. A small part of me understood what I had done even before I came down and when I stumbled out, I was met by silence instead of the usual dumb peanut-gallery comments. They threw me into the shower after, like always, but left me there for hours since I was still tripping. I was hysterical by the time they let me out. By some miracle, or just Wyatt perversely delaying the end, he had actually called a real doctor.

—

Today, Wyatt hands me a double shot of whiskey because it’s “cute” to watch me struggle when I’m tipsy. I knock it back in one swallow, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that frightens me. He finishes getting me ready and then smacks me on the ass to get me moving. Once I’m in the room, he starts feeding me instructions even though I already know what he wants from me today. This way, he’s in control of my every action, like he’s thinking for me, while I just focus on getting air into my lungs, fighting through the alcohol hitting my bloodstream and burning in my empty stomach. I can throw it up in the shower later if I need to. I just need to survive this.

By the time I stumble out, I’m inevitably a mess. Crying, shaking, and covered in sweat, even on the days I get the raw, straight edge experience. One of the baboons walks me to the small concrete room, empty except the industrial-looking shower head in the ceiling above the drain. The controls are on the outside of the room which is how they make sure the water is ice cold and stays on for exactly five minutes. They take the collar off and I get a bar of soap before they lock me in. It used to be orange soap bars that made my skin feel dry even wet. After that, it was green with the same problem but a stronger smell that clung to me all the time, which wasn’t half bad. Lately, it’s a white, rounder bar, that’s distinctly feminine, and leaves my skin soft, which would be concerning if I wasn’t already too balls-deep in my worst nightmare to care.

I used to dance in and out of the freezing shower while I soaped up but now I stay under the whole time. It’s the only thing that makes any damn sense anymore, the one small touch of reality in this shit storm. I stand under the frigid water and then shake and shiver once it’s turned off until the cold becomes a buzz on my skin and in my veins. Depending on the day, I wait for seconds or hours until they toss me a small, scratchy towel and clean clothes. The waiting is part of it. Not because I’m covered in goosebumps, muscles cramping so that I have to curl in on myself for heat, but because of what I know is waiting for me next.

When they finally let me out and lock me into the collar, it’s all I can do not to run back to our basement hole as fast as my legs will carry me to make sure August hasn’t bled out or gone into shock while they kept me from him. It’s all I care about anymore, helping him survive, making him as comfortable as possible. Honestly, it is the least I can do. It’s my fault he’s here at all, kept to be part of a set. Not to mention the heinous torture. If I had known, I would have done my damndest to kill him before it ever even started.

And I would have inhaled that fucking lightbulb immediately after.

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

#whump #whumpees #multiple whumpees #caregiver #hurt/comfort #mouth whump #is mind whump a thing #captivity cw #dehumanization cw #torture cw #angst #drugs cw #suicide cw #alcohol cw #emmas a badass #emma and august

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 34

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 6.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part one

​​​​​

“Wooyoung.” The voice is soft on your ears, and you revel in the peace it provides while you can, mind bringing the comforting image of San’s feline features without hesitation. Merely the sound of his voice fills your chest with warmth. It’s something that blossoms and spreads throughout your whole body as you begin to slip into consciousness. “Wooyoung, get up. They brought us some food.”

Wooyoung.

A hand clamps down hard on your shoulder. Your eyes open against your will, fluttering lashes that reveal a dimly lit scenery around you. The same scene you saw before with it’s cold, metal walls and rattling chains that rupture with noise every time someone shifts a muscle. It hits at that moment. This is not your body, you are not seeing with your own eyes or hearing with your own ears; you are merely looking through a piece of foggy glass and watching this dream – if it can even be called that – unfold with no control. At first, you had a sliver of control over the body and you moved on your own, but now it’s like you are merely a ghost inhabiting Wooyoung’s body alongside his consciousness.

That lack of control is terrifying, to say the least. Seeing things happen and not being able to help or do anything at all. You felt this fear once before, when you were trapped in prison and watching your team unravel and come apart because of your actions. Now, you are witnessing the repercussions of your identity in a whole new light.

San’s sharp features fill your vision. A hand reaches up between your bodies and cups the man’s cheek, turning his head left and right as your eyes flit over his face in search of something.

“Bruises are worse today.” It’s Wooyoung who speaks, soft and mellifluous tone falling from what should be your lips but isn’t. The entire situation is a bit baffling because you can’t reconcile where your consciousness ends and Wooyoung’s begins.

“I’m fine. They brought us some water. You should use it to clean your cuts before they get infected.”

Wooyoung waves the Spectre’s concern off and shakes his head.

“I’m fine. My knee is the only thing still bothering me. Once they take the chains off I’ll be able to set it properly. Ribs okay today?”

“Peachy,” San murmurs, hand coming up to rub at the mentioned spot subconsciously. “I’ve broken plenty before. This is no different.”

“Except you haven’t had proper treatment. I don’t even know if it’s a stable or transverse or oblique fracture… could even be comminuted for all we know.” Wooyoung lifts a shaky hand to his hand and combs through the charcoal-colored strands with no direct purpose. “I-I don’t know – I don’t know how to treat broken ribs. Yunho didn’t – I never asked him h-how to and I—”

“It’s fine, Wooyoung. I won’t die from a broken rib.”

“And if one of the bone shards is lodged in your lung? Think you can survive a hole there? Just… j-just let me know if anything changes. I don’t know what I can do if you start coughing up blood but I’ll figure something out.”

San is silent for a moment. His gaze shifts to the dirtied floor where thick iron chains weave crude patterns over the tiles. They cling to his wrists and ankles, a bit too loose but not enough for him to slip out of them. Wooyoung bears the same kind along with Mingi off in the corner. The Spectre seems to debate something for a moment before he glances up at the ceiling for a half-second, then he pulls closer to Wooyoung to mutter in his ear.

“They’ve been watching us for days. If we can break the cameras then I can use my abilities to—”

“To what, San?” Wooyoung interrupts. He shakes his head ever so slightly and heaves a deep sigh before speaking again, this time quieter than before. “The second a camera feed goes dead, they’ll send someone here to investigate. Mingi is too weak and injured to fight, you can hardly move or stand up straight with that rib, and what am I going to do? I can’t fight as well at you two, and I certainly can’t defend all of us, not with these chains and not on my own. Besides, the collars you and Mingi have are specially tailored to your class. They’ll restrict your usage of your abilities and you’ll only get hurt worse if you try using them.”

“But we – we have to get back to the others. We don’t know what they did with them or if they were taken too. They could have taken Y/N a-and Yunho and Yeosang. And who knows what happened with Hongjoong in the arena or if Seonghwa and Jongho found him?”

“I’m sure they’re okay.” Wooyoung’s tone remains noncommittal, but there’s something about the way he speaks the words with enough certainty to imply that he knows something San doesn’t. San rubs at the skin under his shackles. His wristband must have been taken because it’s nowhere in sight, and you can only assume that they did the same with Mingi’s as well. “We need to wait for a better opportunity. See where they’re taking us and why. We’ll find the others when we can, but right now… let’s get through this together.”

“Fine, but at least clean the cuts on your arms while you can. Who knows when they’ll bring fresh water by again.”

“Give it to Mingi. His injuries are the worst.” San inhales sharply. His lips part to no doubt deny Wooyoung’s request, but the shorter man levels him with a small shake of his head. “Please, San. I need you to trust me when I say that I will be fine.” Wooyoung glances over to another corner where said Berserker sits with shoulders slumped and head hung. You can’t tell whether he is awake or not, but that doesn’t seem to be important because San manages a hesitant nod then goes to approach the man.

Wooyoung watches San’s back as he walks. It’s careful, calculating, almost vigilant and the moment he decides San is at a far enough distance, he whips around to face the corner. Eyes glare holes into the seam of the wall and floor.

“I know you’re there, Y/N,” he whispers, and if you weren’t practically in his body, you would struggle to hear the words. You can’t even properly panic at his direct acknowledgment of whatever this is — he knows you’re there, whether it’s seeing through his eyes or pushing your subconsciousness alongside his. “I don’t – I don’t have time to explain. They’re transporting us to a different facility today. I think they’re going to separate the three of us into different cells. One of the guards mentioned putting Mingi in a steel cage on his own. I’ll try my best to convince them that we should stay together. I…” Wooyoung pauses, lips darting over his dry and cracked lips. “If they separate us, I w-would be able to explain this better but – listen, Y/N. I know this must be confusing and disorienting for you, but I need you to do two things for me when you wake up. First—”

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung cuts his thought short with a sharp hiss and a quickly exhaled curse.

“His fever is getting worse.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung mutters, turning back around and rushing over to where San kneels beside Mingi’s hunched form. He brings a hand to Mingi’s forehead, brushing the damp hair there back so he can have better access, and even you can feel the heat emanating from the Berserker’s skin. Wooyoung withdraws his hand quickly and reaches down for the hem of his shirt. “Get the water for me, I need to make a rag of some sort to put on his head.”

Wooyoung yanks at his shirt, ripping it along one of the side seams and tearing all the way to the other side of his waist. San moves behind him in a rush to get the water as Wooyoung bunches up the wad of torn clothing.

“Mingi, can you hear me?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you mention the fever earlier?”

“Didn’t wanna worry you both.”

“Ah, Mingi…” Wooyoung sighs. San comes up on his side and delivers a glass of water into one of Wooyoung’s waiting hands. “I need you to lie down flat on your back. We’ll put this on your forehead for now, and I’ll look over your stomach again, okay?” Wooyoung dunks his makeshift rag into the cup, soaking it thoroughly while San reaches forward to tug Mingi’s shirt up to his sternum. The moment Wooyoung’s eyes flit over to glance at the newly-exposed skin, you are overwhelmed by the urge to vomit.

Right beside Mingi’s left hip, nestled close to the band of his pants and almost as long as a small blade, lies a broad cut. The skin around it is swollen and angry, holding a yellowish tint to it that you can see in the lowlight of the room. It is wide open, and the stretch of Mingi’s taut skin does nothing to keep the wound sealed shut. You don’t need to be a doctor to realize exactly how bad the cut is. San and Wooyoung exchange a nervous glance, and the worry in San’s eyes is so palpable and thick that it nearly chokes you. Wooyoung’s hands tremble as he eases Mingi onto his back. Water splashes over the floor, and Wooyoung nearly drops the rag in his efforts to calmly place it over Mingi’s damp forehead.

“Woo—”

“I know! I know it’s bad! Okay? L-Let me think this through.” Wooyoung sits back on his heels, tongue swiping over his lower lip. “Mingi needs rest right now. We can’t do anything without supplies a-and we need to just hope that they won’t let him die.”

“And if they don’t care?” San questions. He clamps a hand down hard on Wooyoung’s shoulder and pulls the man to face him head-on. “We don’t even know why they took us, let alone what they plan to do with us!”

“Yeah, well, quit looking at me like I have all the answers! If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us by now. There’s no way they would go through all this trouble to just let us die before we even get to our destination.” San’s hand falls away from Wooyoung as the Spectre sits back as well, eyes glued to Mingi’s reclining form. “It’s the middle of the night, San. I’m sure they’re planning something for the morning if they’re giving us food this late so let’s hold out a little while longer. Get some rest, I’ll watch over Mingi for a bit and make sure he can sleep okay.”

San pulls further away from Wooyoung at that, relenting in his arguments to return to his corner of the all too small room, and Wooyoung watches him go with lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t stop staring at the man until San is curled into the corner with his eyes shut. A sigh passes through Wooyoung’s lips as he turns back to Mingi, one hand stretching out to smooth down the Berserker’s hair.

“You comfortable, Mingi?” He asks. Several seconds pass in silence, and the only sounds that can be heard in the room are the steady and raspy breaths falling from the Berserker’s lips. “Hm, I’ll take that as a yes.” Wooyoung lets a couple more minutes go by without saying a word or making a sound, and it’s only when he seems confident that both San and Mingi are asleep that he speaks again. “Y/N, when you wake up, tell Seonghwa that the moon is shining over cold waters. I know it sounds weird, but he’ll know what it means. A-And Yeosang. Please tell him that I’m okay and he doesn’t need to worry. Then give him the same message as Seonghwa, okay? He’ll… he knows what’s going on b-between us, this whole connection, all of it. He can explain it to you for me. I would – I would do it but I can’t risk Mingi or San overhearing this. It’s already risky enough like this. I’m gonna send you back now before one of them starts asking questions.”

Something cold blossoms in your chest, like someone is trying to claw their way out of you and rip you apart from the inside out.

“Look after Yeosang while I’m gone, Y/N. I won’t forgive myself if something happens to him and I’m not there.” That’s the last thing you manage to hear before shadowy tendrils snake across your vision and bring you back into pitch-black darkness.

You wake up with a start, jerking back into full consciousness in your own body, and you jolt upwards into a sitting position. Everything burns and aches. Sweat beads your brow, slick down your back as well even though the room is cold. Of course it’s only a dream, a weird premonition that plagues you every time you lie down to sleep at night. It has been three days since that day in the arena, the one where three of the crew were stolen away from under your noses, and these dreams have become incessant in their persistence. This one was a first though: the first time Wooyoung has ever acknowledged your presence and spoken to you the way he did, and no matter how much you try to rack your brain, you still cannot get it to make even an ounce of sense.

The right side of the bed remains cold to the touch. It’s a familiarity, yet at the same time, it burns a hole deep in your chest which will linger for hours on end. Seonghwa hasn’t left Hongjoong’s bedside in days. He refuses to look you in the eye when you two are in each other’s presence. You can’t pretend that you don’t understand why because it’s blatantly obvious given that it started the day you met with Jisung and had that emotionally-charged conversation afterward. Yeosang won’t leave the room he’s staying in, and Jongho stays with him for hours on end just to try to ease some of his broken emotional state. Yunho is the only person who tries to maintain a sense of normalcy, but even so, he can’t do much. You have yet to hear a true apology fall from his lips, and until he gives you that much, you are content to greet him with a cold shoulder as petty as it might sound.

As for Jisung, you haven’t heard anyone breathe a word about him in days. You are positive that Seonghwa is going to meet him during the day at some point because the man will disappear for one or two hours then visit Yeosang for the same amount of time before returning to his incessant vigil at Hongjoong’s bedside.

You positively despise everything about the situation you all have been thrust into, and at the forefront of it all are these damn dreams. It almost seems as though the universe is trying to punish you for being the reason why the others were taken – San and Wooyoung, more specifically – because why else would you see through Wooyoung’s eyes and see the direct results of your mistakes. Even a cold shoulder doesn’t do anything to ease your worries, and thus you push your way into the room across the hall with a new sense of determination. You don’t stop until you reach your intended destination, lingering beside Seonghwa’s shoulder where he kneels at the side of Hongjoong’s cot. He shifts his chin to the slightest degree as he look at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Did you sleep okay?”

You aren’t sure what your plan was when you decided to come to Seonghwa. You haven’t thought about what you want to say or should say, but it seems a bit odd to lead with something like ‘every time I go to sleep I wake up in Wooyoung’s body and see through his eyes’ so you can’t very well start with that. The issue is that you don’t even know where to start with this conversation or what to say.

“Um…” You trail off, thought dying in the back of your throat. Seonghwa twists to look at you more directly now.

“Y/N?”

“T-The moon—” you cut yourself short, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “The moon is shining over cold waters?”

It doesn’t process right away. The man blinks back at you with confusion shining in his bright and round eyes, and you are ready to backtrack and tell him not to worry about it. Then, Seonghwa’s expression goes flat, color drains from his features, and his mouth falls agape. He jerks his head forward to stare at Hongjoong’s unconscious body, eyes darting all over the place, while you can do nothing except stand there and wait.

“Who – how do you… god, hold on.” Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that it hurts to look at. He brings a hand up to rub at the spot between his eyes, lips barely moving a centimeter when he speaks next. “Where did you hear that?”

“Wooyoung asked me to tell you that,” you whisper back. It’s utterly illogical since the two of you are alone in the room and Hongjoong isn’t awake, but you’re afraid to speak any louder than that, like you’re divulging a secret for just the two of you to hear.

“Wooyoung. When did he—”

“Last night.” Seonghwa lifts his chin.

“How?”

“I-I don’t know how to – to explain it. He told me to deliver that message to you and to Yeosang as well.”

“That… that explains why I couldn’t find you last night,” Seonghwa murmurs the words under his breath, and you’re almost certain that he isn’t intending them to be for your ears until he jerks his head to look you in the eye. “Daichi knew where you were but said he couldn’t tell me.”

Ah, so he was in the Dreamscape last night. Waiting and looking for you. While you were off inhabiting Wooyoung’s body and living in his consciousness. Then does he not know?

“You mean you didn’t – you weren’t there?” You inquire, tone a lot less confident all of a sudden.

“Where, Y/N?” Seonghwa pushes himself to his feet and stands at his full height, looming over you a little bit as he moves to stand in front of you. “What exactly did you see last night?”

“What is Wooyoung?” You ask rather than answering his question. Seonghwa tilts his head to the side a bit and looks off to the wall behind you. He inhales sharply, tongue dragging over the front of his teeth, and his hesitance tells you all you need to know. “Seonghwa.”

“We need to go to Yeosang,” Seonghwa says after several deep breaths of silence. He reaches down to grab your wrist, fingers nearly closing around your skin when you yank your arm back in defiance.

“You’re just – no! Why can’t you tell me what he is?”

“I don’t even know what you saw last night or what you mean by he told you to deliver a message. It is impossible for that to happen. Even if he is a — it’s impossible.”

“Is he a Si—”

A hand clamps hard over your mouth, Seonghwa’s other hand flying up to cradle the back of your neck as you jerk backward, and you blink at the man in utter shock. He doesn’t look back at you, however; his eyes are glued on Hongjoong’s reclining form, eyes so wide that you think they could bulge out of his head. He watches the steady rise and fall of Hongjoong’s chest go undisturbed for two, five, fifteen seconds before letting his hand drop back to his side.

“Not here,” he hisses under his breath, and for the first time, you hear him speak directly to you with a certain sense of vehemence in his tone. “Y/N, please.” You manage a small nod, unsure of what else there is for you to say, and Seonghwa takes hold of your hand again, this time letting his fingers slip through yours. You don’t know what comes over you in that moment; perhaps it is simply a leftover sense of bitterness that bubbles deep in your gut.

“Yet if this is what you truly want… if you have a chance to rest peacefully at last with someone you love, who am I to deprive you of that? That is all I could ever want for you.”

You tug your hand out of Seonghwa’s grasp, pulling it close to your chest as you turn around and head back towards the door. Turning around now would be a mistake; you can’t bring yourself to think about the expression of pain that surely crosses his features.

“I’m sorry. I would do anything for you, but I cannot force you to stay. That is the one thing I cannot bring myself to do.”

There is so much left unsaid between you two right now, so much you want to say but can’t, and you know that it will probably be the way for quite some time. You would rather run from this than face it head-on and look Seonghwa in the eye to tell him that you need him to make you stay because the guilt that eats away at your gut won’t let you stay otherwise. You don’t stop to see whether Seonghwa is following you, but you don’t really need to because you can hear the soft shuffling of his footsteps trailing after you as you step out of the room and into the hall. The air around you is too stiff and quiet. The silence brings the starkly haunting image of the cell San, Mingi, and Wooyoung are trapped in to mind.

You wait beside the door as Seonghwa knocks on the wood and calls out softly to Yeosang inside. When it cracks open, you expect to see the blond standing in the doorway; rather, it’s red eyes and dark hair that greet you, and you make brief eye contact with Jongho before he redirects his focus to Seonghwa.

“Need me to step out?”

“Yeah, you can go downstairs and eat with Yunho. He should still be down there.”

Jongho nods twice then glances back over his shoulder. He says nothing more as he steps out of the room and replaces Seonghwa’s spot in the hallway. You’re about to follow the lieutenant in when Jongho lands a hand on your arm, squeezing tightly at your forearm and pulling your focus towards him for a moment.

“How are you holding up?”

“…Could be better,” you murmur back.

“We’ll get them back soon.” Jongho sounds so confident, and you can hardly feed into that confidence yourself thanks to the turmoil rushing through your mind without cease.

“Yeah, I’m sure we will,” you lie, pressing a smile onto your lips if only to reassure the Berserker. Whether he believes you or not remains to be seen. He steps away and continues on down the hall, however, so you can escape his scrutiny for the time being and follow Seonghwa into Yeosang’s room.

The first thing to hit you is the darkness of the room. All the lights are turned off save for a lamp beside the bed and the soft morning light filtering in through the window. Yeosang sits in front of the fogged glass with his back to the door, illuminated by the pale light. In this atmosphere, you can truly see his princely features and it makes perfect sense how he could have been a prince in the past with the sharp angles of his jaw, even slope of his nose, blond hair falling in soft waves around his head and resting flat against the back of his neck. If you didn’t know how cruel he could be, you would dare to say he looks almost angelic with the sun’s rays hitting his hair and reflecting off it in soft halos.

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa starts, tone hovering above a whisper.

“More plans from the double agent today?” Double agent? You don’t realize what he means by that until Seonghwa clears his throat and drops his chin to his chest. Jisung.

“No, there’s something else we need to discuss.” Seonghwa shifts to look at you, and it’s only after he gives you a small nod that you realize what he wants. It’s on you to bring up the topic of Wooyoung, to deliver the message he gave you, and to start this conversation. Yeosang swivels in his seat as slowly as possible. You choke on air when he looks directly at you, not even bothering to spare Seonghwa an ounce of his attention once he notices you are in the room as well.

“Wooyoung asked me to tell you th-that he’s okay and you d-don’t need to worry,” you whisper. It’s hard to meet Yeosang’s intense stare, and you regret it when you do because of the sheer lack of emotion in his dark eyes.

“Wooyoung asked you to tell me that. Right.” Accusatory, cold, disbelieving. How the fuck are you supposed to get this man to believe what you witnessed with some weird string of words that he’s supposed to know the meaning of? “Do you take me to be an idiot, Y/N? Why the hell would I ever believe something as ridiculous and inconceivable as that? Don’t tell me you believe her, Seonghwa.”

“You should just — the moon is shining over cold waters,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut to hide your frustration.

“Where did you hear that?” There’s a shift, wood scraping hard against wood, and all of a sudden, you’re forced to open your eyes because the man is in your face with hands clenched so hard around your biceps that you can feel the bruises forming already.

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa warns. He takes a step closer to the two of you.

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Yeosang demands, louder this time as he presses so close to you that his breath cascades over your face.

“Wooyoung told me to tell you that,” you spit back. You shrug his hands off you with a quick jerk of your shoulders, stepping back a bit to put some distance between your bodies. “Because for some fucking reason, I can’t go to sleep at night without waking up in his fucking body and seeing through his eyes with zero control or ability to do anything for myself like I’m some backseat driver in his consciousness while I watch him spend hours trapped in a cell with San and Mingi until he either falls asleep or ‘decides to send me back’, whatever the fuck that means!”

“What?” Seonghwa exhales, head whipping so hard you could get whiplash just from watching him. “Y/N, what did you say? I thought — you mean you didn’t go to the Dre— you didn’t see him there?” You’re acutely aware of the way Yeosang’s eyes flit from Seonghwa’s body to yours, cold and calculating as ever, but something in his features expresses a pre-existing knowledge, like he knows exactly what Seonghwa is talking about with needing an explanation. It sends shockwaves of panic through your body. You can’t stand the way he’s staring at you; it feels too much like he is picking you apart piece by piece.

“W-What? What the fuck are you saying?”

“Oh, cut the damn act, Y/N. I know what you are.”

Both you and Seonghwa reel on Yeosang, and your vision spins with the haste at which you move. He huffs out a laugh, lips twisting at one corner as he grins at you with a sense of cruelty to his gaze.

“If you’re going to pretend to be something, you ought to do a better job, especially seeing as I’m the only true Elitist on the crew. I don’t know who you thought you were fooling, but even if Wooyoung hadn’t told me what you are, I would have known regardless.”

“W-Wooyoung? Wooyoung told you what I am?” You stammer, eyes as wide as saucers. “How did he know?” Your eyes go directly to Seonghwa, and you search for answers in the man, or at least some indication that he was the one to tell Wooyoung about your identity but he shakes his head. Given the shock on his features as well, you’re inclined to believe that he truly had nothing to do with Wooyoung knowing.

“Did he not tell you anything? Not even about the meaning of that phrase he gave you? How typical of him to get sidetracked.” Some of the hostility slips away from Yeosang’s tone at the mention of Wooyoung in such a way, and he shakes his head a bit.

“He said he couldn’t explain because Mingi and San could overhear. But I still don’t understand what’s going on or why this is happening. Why didn’t this happen with the two of us?” You direct the question to Seonghwa, hoping for some sort of answers from the man given his previous knowledge about Sirens, but what you get instead is disappointment and confusion.

“I’ve never even heard of such a thing happening, never read about it, or seen any sort of legend talking about this type of connection,” Seonghwa says through a sigh. “Yes, Wooyoung is a Siren just as we are, and while I had my suspicions about your identity as one, he is the one who came to me and confirmed it because… because he had a dream of sitting in a black lake with a red moon and seeing your reflection in the water instead of his. I didn’t know what it meant back then, and I don’t know now.”

“W-When?” You can’t recall a time when Wooyoung was ever in your body or if you even realized that he was there.

“Right after you came onto the ship. In the first four days you were hiding in that box, Wooyoung came to me saying that he saw a girl’s face in the water, and when I asked him to describe her features, I instantly knew it was the one who I ran into outside the airlock. You.”

“And you two were just — you weren’t going to tell me that this was happening? Or that Wooyoung knew all this time?”

“Seonghwa and I are the only two people who know about Wooyoung’s identity. It’s been that way for six years. Not even Hongjoong knows, and that’s exactly how we intended for it to be. You would never have known if not for this connection between the two of you.” Yeosang blinks between the two of you. He folds his arms over his chest, letting one hand rest under his chin. He says nothing more than that but you can clearly see that there is more on his mind than merely that.

“Then what about the meaning of the phrase? You said it had a meaning, Yeosang.”

“The moon is shining over cold waters. Wooyoung’s moniker is Tsukio, meaning moon. Your moniker is Umiko, is it not? Child of the sea? We came up with it as a failsafe in this sort of situation, where if Wooyoung was in danger and you happened to inhabit his consciousness, then he would give you the code to deliver back to us. Seonghwa would tell you his identity as a Siren, and I would do my best to explain whatever I could in Wooyoung’s absence. There is nothing he does not tell me, even down to matters like this.”

“I don’t understand why Seonghwa doesn’t have this ability as well though.”

“As I told you, Y/N, all Sirens are different. They interact in different ways, and they all have different abilities. Yeosang and I haven’t stopped looking for answers or trying to find even the slightest bit of information about this. Given what Wooyoung has told us, we have only come to one conclusion. You are the sea, and Wooyoung is the moon. No matter where you are in the universe, the seas are always influenced by the moon and tied to the moon in some way. Tell me, Y/N, have you ever seen Wooyoung in your dreams before this?” Seonghwa pauses to let you process and answer the question. His eyes search yours for any sort of response, but you can’t come up with one right away.

“H-Help! Someone – someone help!” You cry out, voice croaking like a frog, and your throat burns from the effort. One of the chained prisoners in front of you turns at the sound of your voice. Dark charcoal hair flutters in the still air as he whips around to face you, eyes wide and curious as they land on you. All the air leaves your lungs. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and you choke on nothing as his face comes into focus.

Wooyoung.

A cloaked man steps in front of you and effectively blocks your line of sight before you can examine the sight further.

Wooyoung.

A searing pain blossoms over your cheek, and it takes a moment for you to process that the person has just punched you.

Wooyoung.

Another blow comes down on your head. You feel your body go down before your mind catches up, and you enter a harsh freefall. Your chains clatter as you tumble to the ground.

“Y/N!”

“You have,” Yeosang states, arms falling limply by his sides. You’re about to agree when another memory hits you out of the blue, something you haven’t seen in a long time, all the way back from when you had the surgery on your arm and when Wooyoung plugged an anesthesia shot in your neck.

The dream is beginning to fade, darkness swirling into one large mass, but before the serenity around you can disappear entirely, you catch sight of something new. Amongst everything that is familiar and known, this is completely foreign. A new figure, shorter than Daichi for certain, but also bearing dark hair. He stands off at the other side of the lake, near the shore like Daichi had been, but his back is facing you. He bears garbs like yours, white and flowing despite the lack of a breeze.

“Twice. After the surgery on my arm and after the m-mission to get the serums.”

“You merely saw him? Not through his eyes?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“And now this is the first time you’ve seen through his eyes.”

“No. It started the first time I went to sleep after what happened at the arena.”

“And you waited four days to say anything?” Yeosang scoffs, face contorting into a scowl in an instant.

“He didn’t speak to me until today! Without that damn phrase, you would have called me insane and not told me anything.” Yeosang opens his mouth to retort, but you jab a finger at his face before he can. “Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong.”

“I think…” Seonghwa trails off, puffing his cheeks full of air and exhaling deeply. “I think Y/N and I need to speak with Daichi about this. It sounds like this connection – whatever it is between the two of you – it sounds like it’s something that is triggered when the other is in danger. Wooyoung inhabited your body when you were dying in the boxes in the cargo hold.”

“He had control though,” Yeosang cuts in.

“He had control over me?”

“Over your body, yes. He told me that he climbed out of the box in the middle of the night and left a blood trail leading to the box. He knew San would be on the first shift to do inventory in the morning, he knew San would have mercy and not be able to kill you, and he knew that San would be able to pick up on the blood trail leading to your box.”

“He…” He saved my life. Your throat closes in on itself. Wooyoung is the only reason San found you in that box. You probably would have died the next day if not for him.

“She was physically incapable of doing even the bare minimum at that time. But you said you have no control over Wooyoung’s body?”

Two shaky hands dart up to your neck, clasping around something terribly cold and metal. It’s a collar of sorts, and it refuses to budge even a centimeter as you try to yank at it. A finger slips under the ridge of the metal. You brush over the cold skin there only to find a blossoming scar across your neck, one that spreads no matter how far you move your hand along the collar. You jerk your hand out from under it with a growing feeling of disgust churning in your stomach.

“I h-had control the first time. But for less than a minute. Like once W-Wooyoung was fully conscious again, he took control.”

“I need time and my notes back on the ship,” Yeosang mutters. “Y/N, I’ll need you to come visit and tell me everything that has been happening in these dreams, along with all the things that started happening when you first came aboard. Once we’re back on the ship, of course.”

“Well, that will be coming sooner than expected.” You and Yeosang glance over at Seonghwa at the same time, eyes wide with unspoken questions. “We’re going back to the ship this afternoon. Yunho plans to transport Hongjoong back with Jongho’s help. He’ll make the rest of his recovery there, but we need to get moving. Jis–our double agent finally figured out where they’re taking the others. Geofflan system, planet Dorado.”

“Seonghwa, that’s—”

“Yes, I know, Yeosang,” Seonghwa interrupts. His lips twist into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and no matter what way you look at the grin, you only see sadness in it. “We would inevitably have to go there at some point. I can’t keep running forever, can I?”

Dorado? Why does this feel familiar?

You peer at the side of Seonghwa’s head in silence, mulling over the words and racking your brain for that sliver of a memory about Dorado.

“Maybe Hongjoong found a lead on Dorado, and that’s where we’re heading next. Seonghwa might be tense because of that.”

“What’s so important about Dorado?”

Jongho’s eyes find yours and suddenly grow wide. He shakes his head a few times, but the nervous gleam that dances across his eyes doesn’t escape your notice.

“Perhaps it’s time for me to go home and face my demons after all,” Seonghwa whispers, letting his smile stretch a bit wider. It falls away a second later, and something dark takes over, something you decide you don’t want to see cross Seonghwa’s features again. Because in that moment, you see something sinister and cruel, and all the legends you heard about the man come to life before you. The stories of a man in a black cloak bearing a silver scythe in one hand with a gun in the other, the fearless killer who stands beside the Scourge of the Black Sea rearing death in his wake. When Seonghwa turns on his heel and leaves the room, you see it. The dark shadows billowing behind him curl outwards and sweep across the floor, crude shapes built by the light in the hallway, and that cloak of darkness sits on Seonghwa’s shoulders. It’s like the Lieutenant of Death has crawled his way out of the dark abyss of hell that Seonghwa kept him buried in, and the face he rears horrifies you.

✧✧✧ a/n: hehe 👁👁🍿 jk um what is there to say about this except hi hello! new act! act five! lots of exposition for this part, i’m sorry about that, there’s a lot to explain and thus it takes a lot of time to explain it, but this is only the first layer of explanation so aidjfoidsjfio strap in!!

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