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slashersins · 4 years

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saving grace .

part two .

( part one ) ( part three ) ( part four ) ( part five )

this can also be seen as happening a few weeks after ‘ i hope you dance ’ or a few months after part one .

things had been going well . the bumps in the road and frequency of brahms’ tantrums few and far between . you thought it had something to do with brahms having two nanny’s attention on him . but greta had a feeling it was you .

you’d always been so motherly and fussy with her and your other friends . taking care of someone just came naturally , and your gentle nature helped . she was so thankful to have you here. she would have broke down completely if she was faced with this herself . after all , greta knew she was spending less and less time in the heelshire mansion and less and less time taking care of brahms , and more time with malcolm .

so it was no surprise when you helped greta get ready for another date , leaving you alone in the house with the spirit of the little boy you were coming to adore . you held brahms close as you waved goodbye and fussed over greta from afar to be safe and call if she needed anything . and not to stay out too late .

“ i don’t think she’s gonna come back before ten brahmsy . even you’re better at following your bed time . ” you smiled down , a goofy grin on your face at the joke you made before whisking brahms off to make dinner . you’d promised him he could stay up a little later tonight , so some things on the list were pushed forward .

once again greta had left to be with the deilvery boy . brahms had asked himself so many times how he could have ever thought that greta would of been a good partner for him . she didn’t follow the rules at all until he scared her . unlike you , who followed them from the start . and even know she broke the rules , leaving the house and ignoring him . if it hadn’t been for you here , he might have been throwing more tantrums out of anger . but he pushed those thoughts to the side . because with greta out of the house , it meant he could spend more time with you . more time with the person he adored . with the person that took care of him .

brahms stayed close in the walls as you made dinner , choosing to play some of brahms favorite music as you hummed and swayed along . he wanted to come out of the walls and sway with you . what would it be like to hold you while you cooked ? to set his chin on your head and steal bites of food ? god , he wanted to touch you again . to be close . his finger’s twitched against the thin paneling of the wall . oh , y/n . . . don’t you know how much i love you ?

like always , you closed your eyes and allowed brahms enough time to come out and eat his food and return his empty plate to the sink , something you’d asked him to start doing to help . because good boys helped out , and it also meant that good boys could sometimes get an extra bed time story or kiss . and brahms wanted to be good for you .

“ thank you for putting your plate in sink , brahmsy ! alright , so , how do you want to spend the rest of the evening ? we can go listen to music , or i can read to you ? we can cuddle and talk ? watch a movie ? it’s your choice tonight since you get to stay up . ”

“ the library , please . can we talk ? will you read to me ? ” anything to feel like he was closer to you . anything to just listen to your voice . to learn more about you that he didn’t know already from his constant watching and exploring of your things .

“ that sounds great . but first . . . we have to get into our sleep over pajamas . so let’s go get changed ! ” you’re smile and laughter warmed him in these cold walls . yes , y/n . anything you want . just keep smiling , just keep laughing . even if you put my doll in some silly pajama set .

now clad in a semi-matching pair of plaid pajamas with the doll brahms , you sat on the couch in the library and cuddled him close . “ what are you wanting to talk about sweetling ? something on your mind ? ”

taking a deep breath from within his hide away , brahms started , questions that had been spinning in his head . irrational thoughts and fears he wanted to talk to you about . he felt as if he could tell you anything , and now was the time . pressed to the wall , half jealous of how you brushed the doll’s hair out of his face and smiled down at it , he spoke softly , curiously .

“ will you stay with me forever ? ”

the question catches you off guard . normally when brahms wanted to talk it was to know more about you , about where you came from , about stories you knew and well . . . simple things .

“ oh brahms . . . ” you sighed as you gave the doll a hug , “ i’ll stay with you as long as i can , okay ? i’m one of your nanny’s , aren’t i ? ” the smile you give him is soft and caring . brahms was lonely . you knew that much . the poor boy always wanting attention , practically clinging . you couldn't imagine being so lonely .

“ i want you to stay with me forever . i don’t want you to leave like greta does . please stay with me ? forever ? ” there’s a slight whine , a hint of desperation in his voice , he leans further into the wall , putting most of his body weight against it . please , y/n . i love you so much . please , stay .

“ brahms . . .” you close your eyes and press your forehead to the doll , the coolness making your heart break for him . “ when your parents come home they might not need us to watch over you anymore . and i don’t think you should be so upset with greta . she’s happy . she still takes care of you , just like i do . but she should be allowed to go out and have fun with someone she cares for . and malcolm makes her happy . please don’t think so bad of her . ”

his breath hitches at the mention of his parents . the letter they left behind . the fact they had left him . truly and utterly . they weren’t coming back , y/n . they weren’t ! and greta - greta was supposed to be his . his ! his parents left her for him , and she ended up constantly running off with malcolm . not even caring about the fact she was supposed to be his nanny . yes , he had you now , and you were his everything . but that didn’t make the abandonment hurt any less .

desperation filled him , he needed you to stay . you couldn’t leave him . what if . . . what if you ended up finding a malcolm ? what if you ended up leaving like greta ? what if you forgot him . no - no . he had to make you understand . ignoring anything spoken about greta , he pressed against the wall , nails almost digging into the wood .

“ you can’t leave . i don’t want you to . i - i want you to be mine . forever . please , please , y/n . i want you to be mine . just you and me . forever . ”

“brahms - i - ” he knew that tone , and he let out a soft sound , pained and hurt . “ brahmsy , sweetling . . . what’s wrong ? why are you asking me all these things ? are you scared that - ”

“i love you . i love you , y/n . ” it’s whimpered out , and you hold the doll close , kissing it’s temple as you rub soothing circles into it’s back .

“ i love you too , brahmsy . i - ”

“ then why won't you be mine ? why won’t you stay with me forever ? i'm being so good . i'll be so good . please ! i love you. you love me too - ”

“ brahms . . . you're just a little boy . oh sweetling . . . ”

“ no ! no , no , no , no , no ! i love you ! you have to be mine . you love me too , you said so ! you’re supposed to stay with me forever if you love me . you’re supposed to be mine ! ” his voice is still childlike , but filled with anguish and fury . his hands balled into fists as he bangs so harshly on the walls that he doesn’t notice the way you jump and go wide eyed , looking so frightened .

“ brahms - ”

“ NO ! i love you . I LOVE YOU , Y/N . YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME . YOU HAVE TO STAY . I LOVE YOU . I LOVE YOU . NO , NO , NO , NO , NO ! ”

he’s never had a tantrum this bad . and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared . desperately you try to sooth the boy , petting over his hair , holding him close , trying to calm him down . but the thumping of the walls get worse and worse . it starts circling the room , hitting against the book shelves and sending them falling from their places . each loud thud has you gasping , tears falling from your eyes as genuine fear fills you .

“ brahms please ! brahms stop , please . please just take a deep breathe , please - ” you’re words are broken through sobs . brahms child like screams of anger , the brutal near wood breaking sound of the walls being hit , every book that hits the floor . it’s too much . you’re sobbing in fear , holding the doll close and shaking , eyes screwed shut as you bed brahms to calm down .

“ y/n ? ! ” you don’t hear greta’s voice over the sound of brahm’s wrath in the room , but brahms does and he stops , seething as he presses his face against the wall to see greta coming in . to see how you shake . the fear in your eyes as you look up , red and swollen and puffy . he sees the mess he made and how you desperately try to even your breathing .

he did this to you . he hurt you . he scared you . what if you hated him now ? terrible thoughts swam through his head and he took off to his room . he couldn’t bring himself to look at you . he couldn’t bring himself to see what he’d done .

the next few days are quiet in the house . greta takes over all of the duties that come with watching and taking care of brahms . she makes you rest . seeing you so shaken up , so scared . it worried her . god , it worried her . she took to sleeping in your room , cuddling you and petting your hair as you came down from the sheer shock of your experience . part of you was hurt , devastated that your sweet little brahms would get so violent . part aching for the little boy who was terrified of being alone . you spent most of your time crying , trying to move past the incident , and then crying again .

one night greta offered to send you back home . maybe this was too much . maybe it was too much for both of you . somehow you’d have to find a way to apologize to the heelshires and wait for them to come home or send someone else - but you never let her finish . your heart ached so deeply for brahms . so you only shook your head . “ he needs us , greta . we can’t just leave him . ”

she blamed your motherly attachment , your gentle heart , your willingness to help others . it only had her holding you while you slept , forcing you to let her do all the worrying for once .

brahms spent the days alone . not coming out of his room even to eat . he kept replaying the scene over in his head . guilt eating at him . he’d frightened you . the person he cared for most in the world . he’d only wanted to tell you his feelings . to ask you to stay . he only wanted for you to accept his love and love him back .

after those few days , when hunger was too much , and he finally found the courage to seek out food , he stumbled upon greta receiving groceries from the deliver boy . he stayed quiet , frowning to himself as he didn’t see you in the kitchen . and annoyed that he’d have to wait till greta left before he could raid the fridge .

“ how’re they holding up ? ”

“ they’re better . still a bit shaken up , but better . but god , they keeps worrying about how the doll is . ”

“ yeah ? i’d figured they would of left by now . ”

“ they wouldn’t do that . not the me and not to brahms . i asked them and they shut me down each time . ”

“ i’m sorry , greta . ”

“ don’t be . it’s not your fault . it’s brahms . the brat . they won’t even tell me what set him off . and it was probably nothing . ”

brahms stayed there , listening as he felt the guilt rise in him , suffocating him like smoke . he didn’t mean to scare you . he’d just been angry . he cried behind his mask , soft whimpers going unheard as malcolm and greta said their good buys and greta left to go do whatever it was she’d been doing before hand .

the hunger he’d been feeling was gone , a heavy pit taking it’s place in his stomach . he didn’t want to step out from the walls , what was the point in eating ? he’d hurt you so badly . . . but as he turned something caught his eyes . flowers . a bouquet left on the table . so many of his books had apologies with flowers , even his own father brought them in for his mother on occasion . would you forgive him if he asked for it ? could you ? he hoped so .

stealing back the doll brahms had been easy . arranging and placing the doll out side your bedroom door with the flowers ha been tasking . it took many minutes and fiddling to make sure the doll didn’t fall over . and he had to hurry after knocking on your door to go back into the walls .

you hadn’t been doing much . just reading while haphazardly draped in pillows and covers when you heard the knock . thinking it was greta , you opened the door , only to find brahms looking up at you . flowers in his hand . there’s a flash of fear that last for a second before it melt into concern and curious and realization . tears welled in your eyes as you knelt down , touching at the delicate petals of the flowers .

“ i’m sorry . i’m so so sorry , y/n . ”

you don’t waste time in hugging the doll to your chest . “ please brahms . you can’t do that again . i was so scared . i know you were upset but you can’t throw a tantrum like that . ” you were crushing and ruining the flowers that he’d brought you , but how could you are . through the fear and slight trauma of experiencing such a paranormal activity you’d been so concerned for brahms . “ promise me you won’t do that again brahms . promise me that you’ll talk to me , that you’ll let me explain and listen . please ? ”

“ i promise . i’m sorry . ”

“ i know . i know . thank you from apologizing . i - i forgive you , okay ? i know you were just very upset . i forgive you . but . . . but where did you - ” you pause as you pull back and you can’t help the slight smile that tugs your lips . “ brahms , these flowers were from malcolm to greta . you little trouble maker , you stole them . that’s not a good thing to do brahms . ”

the sound of your playful tone , even if it’s broken through slight hiccups and sniffles is a relief . he feels so much lighter , so much better . and he presses against the wall , wishing he could hold you and wipe away your tears . to comfort you .

“ you needed them more . ” there’s no shame in his voice . open honest where he values you . and part of you agrees . you did need this .

“ thank you , sweetling . ”

“ i love you , y/n . ”

the words are spoken so soft , so gentle that it’s almost a whimper . you cup the doll’s face in your hands , leaning forward to rest your forehead against his .

“ i know . i know brahmsy , i know . i love you too . ”

#brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #slasher #slashers #slashers x reader #( this legit made me cry writing )#( part three is in the works )#saving grace

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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THREE, MIRROR | MILO & BEA

PLACE: A coffee shop near the university campus TIMING: 10:37 PM SUMMARY: Bea notices Milo being the worst vampire in the world, and makes a begrudging effort to help him. WRITING PARTNER: @beatrice-blaze CONTENT WARNINGS: Very brief mentions of substance abuse, mentions of emotional abuse

Milo’s mind was still reeling. From finally running into his killer, from being forced to accept the fact that he had allowed the man to escape Dani’s stake, from being given the chance to explore the space where he had lost his life, and really see it for the first time since waking up as a vampire. It was an awful lot to process, which was why he was feeling slightly idiotic, and simultaneously slightly desperate, as he waited in line to order a coffee. Of all the places he could be drowning his sorrows, searching for an answer at the bottom of the bottle, a coffee shop was probably the last place anybody would expect him to be. Maybe that was a part of why it felt so comforting; the unpredictability, the spontaneity of the decision. Also, he supposed, the mundanity. He was waiting in line alongside late night students, people working on screenplays, or trying to complete assignments that were dangerously overdue. He could hear scribbling notes, hear the tapping of keys, even the subtle whir of laptop machinery if he allowed himself to focus. But he wasn’t here for other people, he was here for himself. For the familiar scent of coffee. For the feeling of wrapping his hands around a hot paper cup. He could only assume that was what everybody sought when they visited a café after dark.

He couldn’t count the amount of times he had stumbled into this particular shop with a bad hangover, or even still drunk. It had been a saving grace first thing in the morning. And it was proving to be a saving grace now. At least here he felt vaguely human, at least here he could pretend everything that had happened to him over the course of the past few months had been some awful fever dream he had finally woken up from. Something he could move past, and forget. Something he could wash away with the right combination of syrup, coffee, and oat milk. When he reached the front of the line, he placed his order, asking for far more syrup than he usually would in the hope of granting the beverage a stronger taste. A few more minutes of waiting, of forcing any unwanted thoughts to the very back of his mind, and he picked up his cup, making his way over to the wall lined with mirrors.

It was a staple of any coffee shop trying to appear sophisticated. And he was so used to the décor that he didn’t stop to consider whether his favourite spot could still safely be his favourite spot. Pulling out the chair closest to the wall, he dropped down onto it, leaning back against the cool surface of the glass as he began to tap his fingers against the drink in his hands. It was a nervous habit, one he never could seem to shake. Taking a careful sip of his coffee, a quiet sigh managed to escape him at the dull, one-note taste. If only it would taste as strongly as it smelled. It didn’t seem fair that one sense had been heightened while he had essentially lost another entirely. Maybe if he mixed it with some blood? Could he do that? Would that work? So lost in his own thoughts, it took him far too long to realise he was being watched. Catching the eye of a stranger, when they didn’t look away he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Apparently he wasn’t even allowed to wallow without being interrupted.

Bea had gotten used to sleeping when it was light out in New York. The habit had still lingered after her return, her night owl tendencies too much of a hassle to break at this point. It helped to sleep in the light, to wake up gasping and be able to see everything in her room. There was no fear that the Hunter stood in the corner of her room in the light. The ocean could not flood her room. She could see that Adam’s dead eyes weren’t staring at her, crawling to her and telling her he needed to come back. The day rid her of her nightmares far faster than the night did. There were no corners to hide in. She was safe awake at night and safe asleep in the light.

Usually after a show, Bea would find herself at the Stacked Deck, martini in hand as she gambled. She was trying not to drink on bad days, on the days where memories tore at her. Partaking in another vice, that seemed safe. Her mouth was dry as she stared into the steaming coffee in front of her. This wasn’t usually her first pick of a café, but it was the closest she had been to when her walk started to turn into wandering, aimless. These moods, they hit like waves, battering her over and over again, small moments of reprieve falsely claiming the storm was finally over. It exhausted her, cement added to her bones, trapping in the cold, dragging her down further into the sea. Water slipped into her lungs, coughing it up, inviting more in, but there was no release of consciousness, no, she was forced to live it all, feeling herself drown, over and over again.

A hand gripped the back of her seat and Bea jolted with the motion, magic rushing to her fingertips as she looked for an enemy. It was some college kid, punchdrunk from hours spent in front of a laptop. Her heart hammered in her chest, her pulse screaming that she was alive, they were safe. Find five things you can identify in the room. That’s what her therapist had said, right? She couldn’t remember, but she began to count. “One, coffee,” She forced her eyes around the room. “Two, table. Three, mirror.” Mirror… She could see the mirror clearly, could see herself from across the room, all too sophisticated looking for the wild look in her eyes to fit, but not the man in front of it. He was a vampire, he had to be. She had stood in front of a mirror enough with Kian to know. His eyebrows went up and now she was too. A tide pulled her to him, pushed her to do what always made her feel safe and take care of someone else. “You’re in front of a mirror,” She said, her voice stronger than she expected.

Milo hadn’t been expecting the woman to approach him, and he stared at her as she closed the distance between them both. It took far too long for her words to fully register, but when they did he felt an irrational surge of annoyance. “What?” He snapped. Why should she care where he was? What business did she have trying to tell him something he already knew? The mirror had always been there, it didn’t exactly feel like an important piece of information. But as quickly as his irritability had risen to the surface, it was replaced by a sudden realisation. Oh shit, he was sitting in front of a mirror. A jolt of panic shot through him without warning, uncomfortable, and disorienting. Had he really just announced to the entire coffee shop that he wasn’t human? As if hoping to prove he hadn’t been quite so moronic, he glanced behind himself to be met with the reflection of the woman, the shop, and absolutely nothing else. “Fuck- shit-” He muttered, scrambling to his feet, backing away until he was standing beside a window. No longer within reach of the mirrored wall, he still felt nervous, and unsteady. Only when he took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure did he fully understand what this stranger had done for him. But why? What had compelled her to care?

Offering her a hesitant smile, still battling the anxiety clawing at his chest, he did what he could to calm down. Part of him understood there was a possibility this wasn’t the end. The person standing by his abandoned table could be a slayer who had decided to toy with him, or somebody who loathed vampires and was hoping to laugh at his lack of intelligence. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He would deal with that later, for now he needed to focus on the present. “I-uh… thanks.” He muttered, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. It was important to look unassuming, he knew that. Lest he be seen as a threat. But the sheepish demeanour came naturally to him, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “It’s easy to forget sometimes… I just…” Glancing back down at his coffee, still sitting on the table where he had left it, he let out a quiet huff of frustration. “Hey- I don’t suppose you could pass that to me?” He asked. She was only going to say yes or no, he didn’t see the harm in pushing his luck. “That drink is… it’s me trying to stay sane. Apparently it isn’t working…” He added, gesturing vaguely to the mirror.

Irritation rose swiftly in her chest as the man snapped at her. For a moment, Bea considered turning around and letting him suffer the consequences of his actions. The memory of her sister cradling Adam’s body swam to meet her anger, tempering her. This vampire was not Adam, but just like with Eddie, she had the urge to force him to take care of himself. Death had been a friend when she was the one reaching out to it. She understood who truly held the power now. No matter what she could do, there would be people who she lost. Death might be something she could circumvent herself, but that did not mean she would not witness the ramifications of it. She could still try to make others safer from it, even if after it took them, they refused to come back to her.

Dull brown eyes watched as the vampire scrambled back from the mirror. “It shouldn’t be,” Bea said with reproach. She didn’t want this man to hurt, but she did not like him. She still remembered the taste of Kian’s disappearance in her mouth. She still felt the sting of rejection. The understanding of his goals with her, had come later in life. She had even truly realized that he had been using her until she spoke to her friends about their relationship. Abuse seemed like a terribly harsh word for it, but she could not think of something softer that described it correctly. Her lips pressed and for a moment she thought of saying no. She passed it to him wordlessly, eyeing him with suspicion. “Are you always so careless?”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t forget to eat sometimes, or put on lotion before you go out into the sun.” Milo countered. Self care, and self preservation consisted of so many little things, things that were difficult to remember when you were busy, or tired, or your life was getting complicated. Surely anybody could understand that. Pointedly ignoring the tone the woman had chosen to take, he was surprised when she handed him his coffee. It wouldn’t take a genius to see she was annoyed, maybe she too had come to the coffee shop for some kind of escape, and he was ruining it for her by being an all too present reminder of the supernatural. Focusing on her scent, on the sound of her heartbeat, she clearly wasn’t a werewolf, vampire, or zombie. So what was she? A spellcaster? A human who knew too much? “Thanks…” He said quietly, his demeanour softening. She didn’t owe him anything, and she had given him his coffee in spite of that fact.

Hugging the cup to his chest, he watched her, unsure how they were supposed to move forward in such an unusual circumstance. But then she spoke again, and a laugh managed to escape him. He pushed his hair back away from his face, relief at only being caught out by one person was beginning to wash over him. Lowering his inhibitions, and making him all the more grateful for the stranger’s begrudging intervention. “Not always.” He insisted, feeling the need to defend his intelligence. “Sometimes…” Mirrors weren’t always an issue, and when they were he had proven relatively competent when it came to avoiding them. But he had an awful lot on his mind. He didn’t want to dwell on his many mistakes. He wanted to pretend, to enjoy the little bubble of safety the coffee shop felt like it was providing. “Look, it’s been a really fucked up week, okay? I just… I needed a break.”

Bea’s expression soured even further at the man’s reply, “Those things aren’t the same and you know it. I’m not going to have someone attempt to kill me if they notice I didn’t eat.” She didn’t know why she cared, maybe she didn’t actually but wanted the distraction, but whatever caused her to come over here kept her here, even with her mounting irritation. Hadn’t her therapist said something about this? She couldn’t remember it, not with her pulse roaring in her ears, but she knew that Miranda wasn’t going to be happy with her for butting into something again. She’d probably say that taking care of other people to ignore her own self care was a form of escapism or some shit. Bea wasn’t really all that willing to work on breaking out of that habit just yet, it’s what made her useful to the people around her.

It was always a fucked up week in White Crest. There was always another building disaster. There was always something that ruined someone’s life. It was just how the town was. She bit her tongue and said nothing. Taking a moment, she looked away from the man, back to the mirror. She stared back at herself and her eyes lingered on the scar circling her neck. Wicked’s Rest always took something from the people who lived here, it was just how it went. She looked back to the man, “Find a place that doesn’t have mirrors to take a break then. Or one day a hunter will find you sitting in front of a mirror and they will try to kill you. They’ll make sure you stay dead too.” She certainly didn’t hate hunters, especially knowing the ones she did and how they were driven to make the world a better place, but she didn’t want to be a bystander to someone’s death.

Milo was half expecting to win over the woman’s sympathy, convince her in some way to feel for him rather than see him as an idiot. The fact that his words only managed to irritate her further only managed to irritate him further too. Maybe she had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “Whatever, I’m only saying it’s easy to forget the important shit. Especially when your life is a mess. So, bite me.” Taking a sip of his coffee, out of habit more so than in an attempt to calm down, he found the hot drink did manage to soothe him a little. It reminded him of why he was here. The desperation, and longing for an escape. He wouldn’t be able to find one while he was being yelled at by a stranger, that much was undeniable. Though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to escape this interaction. This woman had genuinely helped him, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. No matter how determined she seemed to ruin his night.

Watching as she turned away from him, he saw her stare at her own reflection, but couldn’t follow her gaze without stepping closer, something he absolutely wasn’t willing to do. She would only berate him again, and he didn’t want to encourage her. “I used to come here a lot while I was studying.” He countered, glaring at her even as she ignored him. “Forgive me for wanting something familiar.” If he had chosen almost anywhere else in the cafe he might have been able to avoid the mirrors, but he hadn’t been thinking, too lost in his own pain. As far as he was concerned that was understandable, more than valid given the circumstance. Though his company would probably argue otherwise. “No shit,” he shot back. “I’ve met one or two, I-” He broke off before he could insist he knew what he was doing. How could he say that after such a ridiculous mistake? “I’m fine.” He answered instead. “Okay? I don’t need your help, or- whatever it is you’re trying to do here.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I decline that offer,” Bea sneered back. Maybe on another night she would have been kinder, gentle in her correction. The combination of bad night and an unshaken dislike for vampires was a potent one. She wouldn’t apologize for it, not when she felt she was justly annoyed. She took a deep breath in, Miranda’s voice ringing in her head. She had to keep her cool, they were still in public and she had a reputation to uphold. She kept her eyes off the mirror now, unwilling to see how her face had shifted as anger took over. She was better than this. She knew she was better than this. It was just that this vampire was in front of her and she could barely stand the proximity. The grief of her past had never truly been dealt with, pushed aside instead in favor of continuing on. That was the way of the Vurals, wasn’t it?

Familiarity. Bea could understand that. She found that in the Stacked Deck and Coffee Plus after her death. A place to feel normal just for a moment. It was the most human thing a person could want. “Be more mindful about where you sit here then,” She conceded, her throat tight at the grim reminder that he was struggling with his own demons. A sharp smile took over her face, “You don’t need my help now, after I helped you.” That was the way of it though, wasn’t it? She never wanted help after she proved she needed it. She could, in a way, sympathize with that. “Look, I don’t like vampires, but I wasn’t going to let you get caught like that. I’m not in the business of watching someone make a fatal mistake, even if I don’t like them. That’s all I’m doing.”

“You’re excused.” Milo countered, unable to think of a witty comeback. He was torn between gratitude and frustration. The fact that this woman had done something genuinely good for him, and then turned on him almost the moment he was safe, was pathetically causing his head to spin. Was it really too much to ask for a quiet night? He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with such inconsistency. He had been polite, he had thanked her, and he had been met with a less than positive attitude. It didn’t feel fair. Raising his eyebrows as a few beats of silence passed between them, he watched the stranger as she turned away from her reflection. She was a difficult person to read, which only served to make the interaction feel more irritating, and unnecessary. “I don’t know whether it counts if you stick around to insult the person you helped.” He pointed out, although he knew she could argue against his statement. Regardless of whether she was being kind to him, she had stopped him from potentially becoming a target. Nothing she said now was going to change that. He and Deirdre hadn’t exactly parted as friends, but that didn’t erase the medical attention he had offered her.

Letting out a huff of breath, unsurprised to hear she didn’t like vampires, he appreciated the reason for her behaviour. Even if said reason was bullshit. “I’m sorry, it’s not my fault you’re Team Jacob. I’m not about to fucking fall at your feet because you did me a solid in spite of what I am.” He awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest, careful not to drop his coffee cup. His confidence was rapidly fading as he realised he didn’t always like vampires either. When he met them for the first time, he felt nervous, and scared. It was a product of his history with them. It was only after getting to know them that he became comfortable in their company, maybe this was something they both had in common. “Okay, shit. I get it…” He muttered begrudgingly. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, he chewed on his bottom lip, steeling himself to be honest with her. “You think I like vampires?” He asked. “I was fucking killed by one… but that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like you already know who I am. We’re still people. There’s still good and bad.”

“Asking someone if they’re always careless isn’t an insult. My attitude towards you isn’t an insult just because it’s not immediately positive.” Bea could feel the heat in her blood, felt herself simmering under the surface. The world was unfair, so why did she have to be fair to everyone she met? She was kind when she didn’t have to, better than other people had been to her. It shouldn’t fall on her shoulders to carry on with optimism and generosity at all times. Shouldn’t she get to be as bad sometimes? You’re spiralling, she thought grimly. Miranda had told her she did that, where all of her thoughts started to go too fast to logically go through them. She wanted to go home, but what waited for her there. Felix was in New York, Nell at their parents’ house, Luce at the cabin. The house was empty and it was too late to call anyone over to fill in the gaps that ghosts had left.

Bea’s eyes narrowed, “When you spend three years of your life getting used as a convenient blood bag, I’ll listen to your opinion on how I should feel around vampires.” The relationship she had held with Kian was complicated, but she had grown to realize that their love had been toxic. She had begun to understand that they had only lasted so long because he hadn’t felt motivated to find someone else only a year or so ago. Her throat tightened, she had assumed that he was like Kian, someone who had chosen this life. She had never forgotten with zombies that many of them didn’t pick this. It was harder with vampires. It was hard to look at him now, the stripped truth of what was in front of them almost too much to bear. She nodded, such a small movement that it could have been lost with a blink. An apology stuck on her tongue, thick, hard to move. She could type apologies, but speaking them, that was a very different story. “You’re right,” She conceded. “I let my bias get the better of me.”

“It wasn’t what you said, it was the way that you said it.” Milo pointed out, although he strongly suspected the woman might already know. He wasn’t sure why he was even bothering to continue with this argument, but walking away felt too much like admitting defeat, like agreeing with her. “It is when you’re generalising.” He added, figuring it definitely counted as an insult if her mood was in relation to his vampirism. It wasn’t the first time what he was had managed to make somebody uncomfortable, and it didn’t seem to get any easier. But at least she was making it easy to be annoyed, at least she was making it easy to not feel guilty. Bex had been different, she had been soft, and regretful in a way that made him self-conscious, that made him want to apologise for being himself. His current company had an edge, one that as far as he was concerned, gave him permission to be less than content.

Fully prepared to defend himself, he found his expression shifting once again when he registered what he was being told. There were so many details to her story that would change the context of it. Had she given blood willingly? Was it being taken by someone she knew? Was she being held captive? Or manipulated into sharing? But as quickly as his mind began to run through the possibilities, he was reminded of her obvious trauma. How it had happened wasn’t relevant. It didn’t matter. What mattered was how upset she clearly was, how deeply affected by the past. She had damage, same as him. He couldn’t exactly blame her for that. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said quietly, a frown creasing his brow. He had been used as a blood bag once, and it had cost him his life. He tried and failed to imagine how he might feel if he had been used for three years, if he was still alive, and vulnerable to another attack. He still felt vulnerable, though he knew nobody was going to drink his blood now. She couldn’t say the same. “Yeah, you kind of did… but it’s whatever.” He unfolded his arms, trying to assure her without letting her think she might have won. “That shit stays with you, I know it does…”

Irritation continued to mount, but now it was focused inward. Bea did not lose control. She presented herself as a measured person, her actions had meaning. There was hard to find meaning with the pressure building between her ears. She had fallen from her path without realizing it, twigs broken from her blind tumble. Left behind her an ugly, broken mistake. Her jaw locked, unwilling to deny the truth of his words, unwilling to apologize or put herself in a worse position. She felt young again. At least there was no threat that she would break all the windows in the café, even as far she had fallen, she had more control than she did at nineteen.

“It’s not,” She finally said. She had let him speak, let him apologize for what happened to her. She knew he deserved to be heard after she spoke to him as she had. “It’s not appropriate or kind of me to treat you the way I did.” The way, she knew, certain witches had in the past. The way her zombie friends had. “It’s not alright or whatever. I was wrong,” The words throttled her, the alarms in her brain begging her to shut up. She never enjoyed admitting she was wrong, it made her feel dizzy, out of control. But she was already there tonight, she was already spiralling, might as well dive in to fix something she had made. “I’m sorry too, for the little that it’s worth, that it happened to you. That you were killed.” She knew the feeling, the wrongness that came after that. She didn’t know how being changed into something else felt however. “White Crest isn’t kind. Just try to be careful and maybe it’ll avoid pressing its misery on you again,” She finished softly, weakly.

Milo listened to the apology, taking a moment to really register the woman’s choice of words. He recognised the fact that she was trying, in the same way he understood how difficult it was to take responsibility for a mistake. He appreciated it more than he could say, so he offered her a hesitant smile, hoping to show her he was no longer offended, or upset. He was too tired to cling to so many negative emotions, too desperate to forget, if only for a little while. “You, uh… you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.” He teased, careful to gauge her reaction. He was attempting to lighten the mood but he knew there was a possibility of pushing her further away. He wanted to move forward, he just didn’t know how to. “Look,” he said, becoming serious again. “I know how it feels, I really do. Or part of it, at least. I also know that’s weird because I guess I’m like, one of them now. But I didn’t ask for any of this… You were used by a vampire, and I was used by a vampire. Different outcomes but it still fucking sucks...” Catching the ironic phrase the moment it left his lips he laughed quietly, unable to help himself. “I mean, figuratively but…”

Falling silent when his company warned him White Crest wasn’t kind, it made him wonder what else she had been through, how else she might have suffered at the hands of his hometown. His memory flashed suddenly back to Dani, and his killer, to the moment he had allowed the person responsible for his death to touch him. He couldn’t do anything to suppress a shudder. As it always did when he truly considered what had taken place, anxiety began to claw at his chest, and he swallowed, staring down at his coffee so that he could collect himself before looking back up again. It was a strange conversation to have, and maybe not one he was ready for given recent events. But he pressed on. “I’m Milo. I probably should have said that earlier.” A soft sigh escaping him, he pointedly ignored the pain still weighing him down, remembering distinctly why he had come to the coffee shop in the first place. “Hey, I don’t suppose you want to, uh… start over? Maybe get another coffee and find a table that isn’t in front of a mirror?” He asked. He didn’t have anything to lose, but maybe, just maybe, he could gain a friend. A friend who partially understood the way the aftermath of his attack was still affecting him.

A snort left Bea, an amused smile lighting her face, “Trust me, this is me not being dramatic. I’m usually far more over the top.” She knew how to make a show, knew the words to say to get crowd reaction, knew how to dress and act to get the attention in a room. Her calm was often everyone’s dramatic. She watched his face closely, knowing that these conversations were never easy to have. Personally, most people didn’t know the details of her relationship with Kian. They didn’t know her history or how she felt dirty after it was all said and done. She had never gotten close enough to another person with ties to vampires to compare notes, see how trauma was different on other faces. “I find a lot of people turn into the thing that destroyed them, your’s just couldn’t be stopped.” She had become a killer after the Hunter, had walked this world with the goal of making sure others knew she could end them if she so wished. She had picked that, this man hadn’t. “It does fucking suck, pun intended, considering what happened,” She repeated back, that small smile still on her face.

Bea considered her options. She could just walk away, this had ended amicably enough, or she could give him a shot, accept company and let herself get pulled from the hole she had placed herself in. “I’m Bea or Beatrice, either work.” She always introduced herself that way, even though she rarely went by Beatrice anymore. Her mother had loved her full name though and so Bea had never stopped. Maybe it was time to. “I know a spot here where there are no mirrors, should be pretty safe.” She had never really stopped looking for those safe spots, not after three years of it. “I’ll get us more coffee and meet you over there?” She offered, guard still up, but willing to take some time to pull it down.

Milo watched the woman, pleased to see a genuine smile light up her face as she spoke. He smiled too, unable to help himself, but it didn’t take long for the expression to fade. He tried to imagine a world where he killed people so callously, where he was willing to take a life because it was convenient, and made him feel good. He refused to let himself become that, he was never going to forget the trauma, the unrest his experience had caused him. It might actually haunt him forever. He knew he could be selfish, knew on the odd occasion he put his own wants and needs before the wants and needs of others, but never to such a scale. That wasn’t him, and it was never going to be him. “I really hope that isn’t true…” He murmured. Maybe his company was right, and becoming a vampire was enough. Maybe she wasn’t talking about the murderous tendencies that apparently came as part of the package. Humming quietly in response to the pun, he glanced back up at her and was surprised to find she was still smiling. It made him feel better somehow, the knowledge that she might actually be enjoying the conversation.

“Bea...” He echoed, committing her name to his memory. He didn’t enjoy being given a choice, not when names could carry so much weight, and be so personal. It only made sense to use the first option he had been given. A laugh escaping him at the mention of mirrors, drawing him out of his thoughts, he was struck by how ridiculous it was relying on a human to show him where he would safely be able to sit. He felt like a child, although he knew he was in no place to complain about that fact. She was helping him, and considering how their interaction had begun, that alone seemed like an outright miracle. Following her gaze to a handful of tables, he nodded before catching her eye. “Coffee sounds good.” He agreed. “With oat milk, and as much syrup as they can legally give me.”

“Sometimes hope can be enough, if you follow it with determination.” There were moments where Bea looked toward Luce and saw hope in a manner she didn’t with many other people. It was a Vural trait to never go down easily, but Luce always felt like the most hopeful somehow. She was by far the least optimistic, yet somehow when hope was introduced to a situation, the eldest sister thought of the lightning caster. She couldn’t completely explain it, but it felt right in her chest. Luce didn’t let go of hope once she found it, she held fast, a dragon with her horde. “Oat milk,” Bea nodded, heading over to the front. “I’ll convince them to give you some illegal syrup too, don’t worry.”

Milo grinned at the mention of illegal syrup before turning away from Bea, making his way over to their new table. He felt okay, he realised. Not good, and definitely not whole, but okay, and that was undeniably the best possible outcome of the evening. He had been expecting the drink to help him. Had been expecting the solitude, and the quiet sense of normalcy to ground his overwhelming emotion. When in actuality it was the company helping him settle. Bea may have been cold, and short to begin with, but he was really beginning to like her. Maybe there was something in that. He had called Evelyn, hadn’t he? To help him when he was catatonic. Didn’t he usually call Orion when he was feeling particularly miserable, or confused? Even Macleod and James on the odd occasion had helped him to organise his thoughts. It struck him suddenly that he didn’t need coffee, he didn’t need to cling to his old life, or wallow in it entirely alone. He needed to find somebody to be with, somebody who could distract him from his thoughts, and allow him a sense of freedom. He knew the clubs now, he knew the substances. But did he know anybody willing to get on his level? If he looked in the right places, he strongly suspected White Crest might finally deliver.

#c:bea #milo and bea #emotional abuse tw #drug abuse tw

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merakiaes · 4 years

Text

Where I Belong - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This was requested by an anon like two weeks ago but I accidentally deleted the ask so I hope the person who requested cheating Oscar sees this. I don’t peg Oscar for the cheating type seeing how seriously he takes loyalty, so I made a slight twist to it and didn’t make him directly cheat. I hope it’s okay anyway. Let me know what you think xx Not proofread!

Wordcount: 3807

Summary: Trouble in paradise, ‘nough said.

"Are you gonna forgive him?" The question you had been dreading this entire morning finally came.

You heaved a sigh, staring into the ceiling and twisting your hands where they laid intertwined on top of your stomach.

Next to you, Maricruz laid, your best friend of ten years and as of almost a year back, Sad Eyes girlfriend.

"I don’t know." You answered her honestly, eyebrows creasing together as you thought her question over.

"Well, you better decide soon because I overheard Veronica talking about taking him back." She shrugged beside you.

When hearing her words you instantly turned your head to look at her, finding her in a position identical to your own; her legs up against the walls, her hands clasped over her stomach and eyes staring into the plain, white ceiling above you.

“Take him back?” You snorted, shaking your head. “One does not take Spooky back, especially not when they were barely even an item. And even so, he wouldn’t want her even if she paid him. He hates her annoyingly fake ass.”

She turned to look at you during the time you spoke, meeting your hard look with sad eyes. “Wouldn’t be so sure, babes.” She sighed. “There’s no being in this world as irrational as a lonely, heartbroken man. They’re a breed of their own.”

“Now you’re being dramatic. We just had a fight. Our hearts are fine.” Your eyes hardened, your entire body turning defensive. But in the middle of it, you caught yourself, asking yourself whether or not you actually believed your own words.

And Maricruz seemed just as confused about the entire situation, tilting her head slightly. “What was the fight even about?”

You turned your gaze back up to the ceiling as you thought back to the fight you’d had the night before, the memory still fresh in your mind.

“I don’t even know what we are anymore! Sometimes I feel like we’re really close but then on other days you treat me like I’m just an acquaintance or some sort of unwanted stranger. Can you just make up your mind already? It’s making me go insane!”

You remembered your own words as clearly as if you’d spoken them just then, the feelings you had been feeling last night coming rushing back again.

Without looking back to your friend, you simply shook your head as you came back to reality, pushing the memory back to the back of your mind.

“I don’t even remember.” You answered quietly, lying straight through your teeth.

Now when thinking back to it, it was all so ridiculous and it shouldn’t even have become as big of a deal as it had. You knew that speaking openly about the reason behind your fight would have made you look like a literal psychopath.

Maricruz obviously didn’t buy your poor lie, but she didn’t press the matter any further. “So you are going to forgive him?” She asked, and your head instantly whipped around to face her.

“I didn’t say that.” You defended, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Not directly, no.” She agreed. “But you insinuated it by calling it just a fight. And the fact that you can’t even remember its origin just shows even more that it’s not a big deal.”

“I just-“ You sighed, cutting yourself short and pulling your hands over your face with a sigh. “I haven’t woken up without him in three years. It feels wrong. I miss him.”

Maricruz reached her hand out to touch your arm in a comforting manner. “I know, boo. You should go talk to him.” She said and with another sigh, you brought your hands away from your face and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We both said some shit we shouldn’t have yesterday and I should apologize.” You agreed, turning back to look at her. “Can you come with me? Just in case it doesn’t go well and I need a ride home.”

She smiled. “I doubt that’s going to happen but of course I’ll come with you.” She started pushing herself up on the bed. “Let’s go right now.”

You shot her a grateful smile before wordlessly following her example and sitting up. You got changed out of your pajamas, sorted out your bed heads and put on some light makeup and five minutes later, you found yourself in the passenger seat of Maricruz’ car.

Another five minutes later, you were driving up in front of Oscar’s house. Your eyes instantly caught sight of the red Impala parked in the driveway, nerves starting to creep up on you as you realized he was home.

A small part of you had wished he wouldn’t be so that you got more time to figure out what the hell you were going to say. You had never walked away from a fight without solving it before and you had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

But at the same time, you knew it would be good to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Partly because you knew the new lesson would be healthy for you, but also because you missed him and couldn’t wait to be back in his arms again.

With a nervous sigh, you undid your seatbelt and turned to your best friend. “Wish me luck.” You said and she wasted no time in nodding her head, smiling widely at you.

“Break a leg, babes.”

You turned back to the other side and opened the door to the car, stepping outside and shutting it carefully behind you.

You looked at the Diaz residence at the other side of the road, wondering if Oscar would still be sleeping seeing as it was only ten in the morning on a Saturday.

Turning back around, you leaned down to the open window of the car, giving Maricruz another worried look. “You’ll stay here, right? Just in case-“

“It’ll be fine.” She shot you down quickly, smiling comfortingly. “You worry too much. Go.” She waved her hands at you, shooing you away, and you nodded, turning back around.

Your feet started taking you toward your destination before you even got time to process their movements and you went with it, crossing the street.

“Remember protection when you have rough make-up sex!” Your friend yelled at you from the car.

Her words caused your neck to warm up, but nonetheless, you laughed to yourself, giving her both fingers over your shoulders without looking back.

But the laughter quickly died down in your throat when the sound of Oscar’s front door opening reached your ears, the blonde Latina you oh so despised walking out on the porch and into your field of view a second later.

You stopped right in your tracks at the sight of her, your blood turning cold in your veins, your muscles stiffening and your heart feeling about ready to explode in your chest.

Feeling your fierce glare directed at her, Veronica looked up from her bag which she had been rummaging through, instead meeting your gaze.

Her lips almost instantly tugged into a smirk and slowly, she backed into the house again. You listened to the door close and took that as your cue to turn back, too, rushing back to the car with long, urgent steps.

You wasted no time in getting back into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and squeezing your hands shut tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the building tears at bay.

“Drive, drive, drive.” You begged Maricruz without looking away from the road in front of you, and she did as told, starting the car back up and driving back onto the road.

As she began driving, you glanced down into the review mirror just in time to see Oscar coming out on the porch, only dressed in a pair of shorts.

You watched his face fall at the sight of the familiar car, the last things you saw before turning a corner being him storming back inside, with Veronica in tow.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” Maricruz reached her hand over the console to grab yours once you were out on another street.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, the tears stinging your eyes finally spilling over the edge and rolling freely down your cheeks.

“Just drive, please.” You sniffled, lip wobbling.

Maricruz nodded her head, glancing sadly at you where you were still keeping your eyes forward. “Okay.” She answered simply, letting her thumb rub over your knuckles just like Oscar always did, and that’s all that was needed to make you break down right then and there.

Three days later, you found yourself in Sad Eyes backyard, watching the man you loved more than anyone else in the world get felt up by the girl he had once convinced you that he hated more than anyone else in the world.

And he wasn’t looking like he was enjoying it one bit, so you just couldn’t wrap your head about why he would go through all the trouble of being with her.

Since catching them together three days ago when you had gone to his house to apologize, you had been crying non-stop, poor Maricruz having had to stay by your side through every little tear.

You thought it would break you to see him again, but now, on the evening she had finally managed to drag you out of the house for the first time since, all you could feel was pure, red anger as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“Are you sure you don’t want him back?” Maricruz asked from beside you for what seemed to be the tenth time in the past five minutes.

Your gaze didn’t waver from where Oscar was sitting at the other side of the lawn with his Santos and… Veronica. You couldn’t even think her name without disgust.

“I’m never sure of anything. Especially when it’s about him.” You answered your friend sourly. “I used to find that quite exciting but now it’s just torture.”

You took a generous gulp from your drink, not even cringing at the strong alcoholic taste at this point from how used you had gotten to it throughout the night.

Maricruz looked at you from her seat beside you and you could literally feel the disapproval radiating off of her body in your direction. “Do you love him?”

You snorted at the question, turning to look at her with an unimpressed look. “Do you even have to ask?” You asked.

She nodded. “How much?”

“Does it matter?”

You raised the glass to your lips, taking another, smaller sip.

“Why doesn’t it?” She questioned back, raising an eyebrow at you.

Sighing, you turned your gaze to the glass in your hand, watching the cubes of ice twirl around in the sickly green apple drink. “Because it wasn’t enough to make him stay.”

Maricruz sent you another sad look, reaching out to take your free hand in hers. “Look, I understand it might be hard for you to see it that way considering the circumstances and all, but everyone knows you’re the most important thing in Oscar’s life. He’s terrified to lose you, no matter how much he always tries to tell you that you deserve better than him.”

“What are you getting at?” You sent her a hesitant look; however, you couldn’t deny your body was getting warm at her words. But then again, that might have just been the alcohol.

In return, she sent you a small, smile and shrugged. “What if, just what if, he thought that he lost you? Had a severe lapse of judgment and wanted to numb the pain, because the thought of losing you was too much to him.”

Your eyes began stinging, the anger and heartbreak battling in your mind. “He still shouldn’t have gotten with her the same night, though.” You pointed out.

She smiled sadly. “We both know he’s not good at handling his emotions. Especially not sad ones. He had to grow up way too quickly and his head is a mess, you were always his rationality and you took all of the rational with you when you left.”

You swallowed, knowing that she was right.

“Let me ask you something. Knowing what you do now, if you could do it again, would you meet him again for the first time, or would you walk away?”

Your eyes flickered back over to Oscar where he sat, your gaze trailing over his profile, his tattoos, his entire stature, and the hand that was resting on Veronica’s hip.

As if feeling your eyes on him, he turned his head away from the conversation he had been listening in on and looked over to you, and when your eyes met his, your mind instantly traveled back to all of the moments you had spent together.

You remembered all of the countless nights you had spent in bed together, one night in particular when he’d gotten a bit too drunk on his birthday and passed out on top of you.

You had been crushed under the weight of his passed out body, his loud snores being the only sound you could hear with his mouth right by your ear and the smell of cigarettes, alcohol and sweat in combination of his body weighing down on your lungs almost making you unable to breathe, but you had still loved every second of it.

You remembered being in the shower together, both of you grinning mischievously as water sliced over you. You had thrown foam at him as a response to him pinching your ass and he had held his hands up in defense.

In all your playful glory, you managed to slip and when he hurried to catch you, he, in turn, slipped too. The bruise on your ass lasted a month and Oscar cut his eyebrow at the edge of a shelf; a scar that still remained to this day.

You remembered the countless of walks you’d taken along the beach. Whenever you woke up early, when you couldn’t sleep at night, or just whenever you got some time to spare throughout the day, walking along the shore, fingers intertwined and arms swinging between you.

You recalled all of the evenings you cooked together, struggling to push past each other in the small kitchen of his house and bickering about who’s turn it was to cut the onions until Cesar would bravely step up and do it just to get the two of you to shut up.

The memory faded and took you to just the other week when he had come with you to the nail salon after a lot of persuasion, where he had begrudgingly picked a color, held your jacket and bag, and sat through the entire process despite wanting to be anywhere but there.

And then just the night before that ridiculous fight had taken place, you had been peacefully curled up in front of the TV together, you laying on his chest while some bad cartoon aired and he absentmindedly peeled and fed your pistachios.

You then thought back to the fight, how you had gotten mad at him for not giving you enough attention in all your raging glory, and told him you were done before walking out.

Having been so caught up in the heartbreak and anger, you hadn’t really realized until now that you were the one who had pushed him away, not the other way around.

In the end, he was the one who had made the active choice to get with Veronica the same night, but the more you thought about it, the more you found that Maricruz was right.

He always wanted you to pick a better life for yourself, so of course, he wouldn’t run after you when you walked out. For him, that would be the equivalent of chaining you down and keeping you hostage.

On the contrary, you realized now that he would do everything in his power to make sure that you moved on, and even go as far as to get with someone he could barely stand being around.

He always talked about how you deserved better and the only thing keeping him from pushing you away when you were together was the fact that he loved you too much to let you go. After the fight, he must have seen his chance and taken it.

But that was not his choice to make.

Now seeing the obvious logic behind his actions, although very poorly chosen, you became determined to show just how much he didn’t have the right to make those kinds of choices for you, and putting Veronica in her place would just be a bonus.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you put the drink down on the table next to you and headed right for them without answering your friend, hearing her cheering you on from behind.

Your eyes remained hard and your steps were nothing short of determined as you approached them, something the Santos immediately picked up on judging by the amused looks crossing over their faces.

They could recognize the fierce look of their leader’s ruca from miles away and know without a doubt in their minds that you weren’t there to play nice.

Oscar looked up at you when the conversation came to a halt and he noticed your presence, his bored eyes meeting yours and suddenly turning soft.

Behind you, Maricruz sneaked past and got situated in Sad Eyes’ lap, waiting impatiently to see how the scene would unfold with the rest of them.

Veronica obviously noticed your presence with the way everyone, Oscar included, was now staring right at you, but still, she just had to be her usual bitchy self and pretend like she had no clue, only looking up at you when you cleared your throat.

A feign surprised look crossed over her features, eyes widening innocently. “Oh, I didn’t see you there!” She said, and you had to really force yourself not to laugh out loud when you noticed Oscar rolling his eyes.

“Can I help you?” She asked, chewing her gum in an annoying manner, the vexing sound only causing your glare to harden along with the way she so obviously pressed herself further down onto your boyfriend’s lap.

“Yeah.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “You can get out of my seat.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Oh, I don’t think so, honey-“

“I said-“ You interrupted, taking a dangerous step closer, uncrossing your arms and leaning down to her height. “You’re. In. My. Seat.”

The Santos were all watching with amusement, holding back their laughs at the sight of you getting all up in her face. Oscar was smirking along with the rest of them, watching you handle the situation proudly.

“I’d listen to her if I were you.” Sad Eyes spoke up from underneath Maricruz, chuckling lightly, and the girl in question joined in with a nod of her head. “Messed the last hyna up pretty bad when she tried moving in on her man.”

Veronica squinted her eyes at them but didn’t answer, instead turning to Oscar and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Are you not going to say anything?” She questioned sweetly, and you watched with a smug expression as he just smirked at her and reached his hand up to pull her arms away.

“Nah.” He answered simply, bringing the bottle of beer in his hands to his lips and taking a small sip before continuing, all while maintaining eye-contact. “You’re in her seat.”

She scoffed, looking at him for a moment longer, before standing up and marching off to God knows where, leaving his lap open.

He still smelled of her expensive perfume as you slid into his arms, causing you to scrunch up your nose in disgust, but still, you made yourself comfortable, leaning back into his chest and letting him wrap his arms around you from behind.

The feeling of his face nuzzling your neck while the others returned to their previous conversation caused your body to flood with warmth, but the anger remained as you glared forward and crossed your arms over your chest.

“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.” You muttered bitterly.

But all he did was press a feather-light kiss to your bare shoulder, mumbling against your skin. “I know.”

“You’re going to have work really fucking hard to earn my trust again.” You continued.

“I know.” He answered again, simply, while pressing another kiss to your skin.

“And that’s not going to b-“

“I know.” He interrupted you, repeating himself again and lifting his face from your shoulder. When he did so, you turned your head to the side and met his soft eyes with a glare.

But he wasn’t even slightly bothered, looking at you with a sincere expression. “I’ll fight for you for as long as it takes, mamas. I’m sorry. We’ll talk more later, ¿vale?”

You understood why he would want to put the conversation on hold; it wasn’t one to be held by the prying ears of the Santos.

It didn’t matter that they already knew he had a soft spot for you and accepted it; he couldn’t be having relationship discussions out in the open. Not only would it make him look vulnerable if the wrong people caught him with his guard down, but it would also paint a target on your back.

So you took what you could get, for now, knowing that everything that had happened over the course of the last few days was partly your fault, too. But still, stubborn as you were, you hummed bitterly in response.

“Okay.” You replied lowly, letting your body relax ever so lightly, your arms uncrossing from over your chest.

Oscar gave you a nod, bringing his free hand up to your cheek to pull you down to him. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back away and pressing his forehead against yours. “Te amo, mi vida.”

You let your eyes remain closed, basking in the moment and treasuring the feeling of his arms finally around you again.

“I love you, too.” You replied quietly, thankful that the Santos respected Oscar enough to mind their own and give you the privacy you needed.

Opening your eyes, you gave him a stubborn look, searching his eyes and analyzing his face as you added: ”But I still hate you.”

He only chuckled, leaning in and pressing another quick kiss to your lips, pulling away with a sincere smile and replying a quick: “Sé.”, before hugging you closer to his chest, returning his attention to the conversation taking place around you.

You knew that the conversation was far from done and that both of you had to apologize for a lot of shit, but for now, you were just happy to be back in his arms where you belonged.

#oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz #spooky #spooky diaz #spooky x reader #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb imagine #omb x reader #omb #mario martinez #ruby martinez #jamal turner #monse finnie #cesar diaz #sad eyes

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dcnatural · 4 years

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What Hides In The Dark

Anonymous requested: Hello. May I request a imagine about Tim Drake being a werewolf and only his S/O can calm the wolf down if he lose control (this purely inspired by a fic lol).

Word Count: 1423

Pairing: Werewolf!Tim x Reader

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Tim Drake, is a werewolf, and when he escapes, it’s up to you to make sure he’s safe

The full moon was high in the Gotham sky, it’s pale silver glow illuminating the city bellow. The streets were silent at this time of the night, save for the occasional rumbling of a passing car. Most law abiding citizens would never, under any circumstance, leave their houses after the sun disappeared below the horizon. The nights belonged to the criminals and the vigilantes.

And to you. You didn’t belong to any of the two categories, but you still had your place in the darkened streets. Always lurking somewhere in the middle of the good and the bad, you wandered by this cursed city way past midnight, looking for the beings of shadow and fear. If the vigilantes kept the city safe from thieves and murderers, you kept it safe from demons and monsters.

Despite sharing the cover that the darkness offered, the worlds of nature and magic barely ever crossed paths. It wasn’t your duty to fight serial killers, and it wasn’t Batman’s duty to send ghosts back to where they had come from. You didn’t even know if he acknowledge the parallel battle happening in the city.

Your mission had been passed to generation after generation of your family. Your bloodline possessed the rare ability to see behind the mask of reality, and considered their sacred duty to keep the supernatural at bay. You lived to protect the others from what they couldn’t see.

But sometimes, fate had a funny way of uniting people. Murderer by day, werewolf by night, Kyle Abbot had proven himself a menace in all forms. It was investigating Abbot that you first ran into Robin. The chemistry was explosive. You didn’t believe in love at first sight before, but it was the only way to explain what had happened in the moment your gaze crossed his.

The two of you had a lot in common: both were warriors fighting the battle against the darkness, living a secret life surrounded by mysteries and lies. Neither of you had many friends, and in each other, you and him found companionship. You should have known better. You should have seen it coming. For you knew that no good things happened when magic and nature mingled.

During the fight, the werewolf’s claws pierced Robin’s suit, scratching the skin. After the police had Abbot under custody, you immediately treated Robin’s wounds. But it was too late, the damage had been done: in the next full moon, he would be transformed into a wolf and there was nothing you could do to stop that. In a strange way, his new condition brought the two of you closer. You began to meet him daily, going out every day after class. He trusted you with his real identity, and you trusted him with yours.

In the days leading to his first shifting, you arranged a safe space, a place he could stay when his bones cracked to accommodate his new form, and his hair grew to cover his whole body. You kept Tim company during the full moons. You protected him and prevented him from doing harm to others. Even in his irrational wolf form, he began to bond with you: his animal self becoming loyal to you.

But even the best engineered cages sometimes fail, and that's how you found yourself running around Gotham, following the trail of bloody footprints staining the gray concrete. You found him cornered against the wall of a dead end, a huge wolf with reddish-brown fur, jaw open, revealing the sharp fangs, and claws ready to attack. Blocking the entrance of the alley, there was a man wearing a black suit with a blue, bird-shaped design in his chest. He wielded escrima sticks, ready to defend himself from the creature.

“Dick!”, you shouted, not needing to see the man’s face to recognize him as Tim’s adoptive brother. “Don’t hurt him!”

Nightwing turned, and the moment his eyes left the wolf, the animal jumped on top of him, it’s weight bringing him down.

“Tim! No!”, you commanded, voice slightly unsure. What if he doesn’t listen to me?

But he did. The creature’s head snapped in your direction, eyes glowing yellow like embers. A thick thread of saliva hang from its open mouth, dripping into Nightwing’s cheek.

“Tim”, you tried again, testing if he was indeed reacting to your words. The wolf blinked expectantly. “Please, I need you to back away.”

There was a beat of silence, but then he slowly let go of his older brother. You smiled and nodded at Tim, and gave a tentative step towards him. His fur bristled up and quicker than your eyes could register, he ran past you, disappearing between the buildings and cars.

Dick pushed himself back onto his feet. “What did you do to my brother?”, he inquired, anger making his skin burn red. He towered over you, and your heartbeat quickened.

“What?”, you exclaimed. How dare he blame me for this? “How is this my fault?”

He poked your chest with a gloved finger. “He starts dating a witch and suddenly he became a werewolf? I’m pretty sure it’s your fault.”

“I’m not a witch”, you said through gritted teeth. “I can use magic, but I’m not a witch.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just undo whatever you have done.”

“I did nothing!” And then realization hit you. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tim never told you or Bruce that he is a werewolf.”

A unreadable expression took over Dick’s face. “How long? How long has he been like this?”

Your lips curved in a pitiful smile. “Six months. It’s kind of what brought us together.”

He closed his eyes, rubbing a finger in his forehead. You had noticed Bruce did the same thing when thinking. Finally, he sighed. “I’m sorry I accused you. But we need to find him, before someone hurts him.”

“Or he hurts someone”, you completed.

* * *

It took half an hour for you to find Tim again. For a large animal, he was surprisingly good at hiding. Fallen leaves in shades of brown, red, yellow and orange covered the ground of Robinson Park. Chewing noises came from a bush, and you ran the remaining distance. Crouching on the grass, the wolf devoured a blood covered bunny.

You approached him carefully. “Timmy”, you called and once more, he stopped what he was doing to look at you. You took a deep breath and kneeled on the ground, so your face would be level with his. Your actions were measured, you were afraid of scaring him away once more.

His animalistic gaze held yours and you dared to reach a hand out. It hang awkwardly in air for a second, before Tim moved forward, burying his snout on your palm and licking it greedily. You raised your other hand to caress his ears and he barked, seemingly at ease.

“Good boy”, you whispered.

Nightwing handed you the collar and leash he had picked over during your search. And while you hated having to use those on Tim, you had to agree it was the best way to bring him back to your hideout.

Making Tim walk back into the cage was complicated, as he would often try to race after passing cars or pick fights with street dogs, but after a long journey, you and Dick managed to successfully secure Tim inside it. You checked the padlock twice, and cast a spell just to be sure, before turning your back to the cage.

“I should go”, Dick said, running the back of his hand along his forehead to clean the droplets of sweat that had formed during the mission. “I’ll talk with him tomorrow.”

“Try not to judge too much. I know it’s complicated and unusual, but he’s still the same person he was before”, you told him before waving your goodbyes.

Once Dick was gone, you sat on the wooden rocking chair you usually used and stayed awake until the sun rose. You always hated seeing the transition: the cries of pain that escaped Tim’s throat made your heart break. He blinked once, then twice, his brain adjusting to the return of his human senses.

“Hey, you”, you said, rising to open the door.

“Hey”, Tim answered, his voice sore and sleepy. He stumbled onto his feet and hugged you, head resting on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“What for?”, you inquired.

“For being here. For helping me.”

You smiled and kissed him. “It’s you and me, Tim Wolf. You and me against the world.”

#tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #werewolf!tim #a.k.a. tim wolf #tim drake #au #reader #dc

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joaquinfeed · 4 years

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Then, He Met You (Theodore Twombly x Reader)

Prompt: Theodore and Reader have been dating for a few months. He’s still insecure and worried about your relationship. Jealous!Theodore.

The scene in front of him was all too familiar to Theodore. Despite his brain telling him he was being irrational, he can feel the sliver of jealousy running through his veins like poison.

You laugh—God, he loves your laugh—and you blush, and you run your fingers through your hair. His eyes stay on you, hoping they can catch yours between the crowd, but they never do.

Anger wasn’t something that Theodore felt often. Happiness—sometimes. Sorrowful, regretful, apathetic, lost—often. But anger? Only a few times in his life had he ever let himself feel angry.

For a brief period, his mind wanders to Samantha. There were times when he questioned whether he would ever move on from her. He used to be tied down by the weight of his heart and felt nothing could ever set him free again.

Then, he met you.

You crashed into his life—quite literally—with your dazzling smile and alluring personality when you collided with him outside his workplace, Beautiful Handwritten Letters.

“I am so, so sorry!” You exclaim, already shoving your sweatshirt sleeve up against his button-up shirt to wipe off the coffee you just ‘threw’ at him.

Theodore just stares at you, not knowing what to say to the beautiful stranger who’s currently rubbing his chest. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle while reaching up to adjust his glasses.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re headed somewhere important,” You say, eyeing his tucked-in shirt and slacks.

“Just work. I have work,” Theodore gestures to the office building, and you follow his hand with your eyes until you’re peering at the tall establishment. “I just write letters.”

You turn back to him. “Letters?”

“Uh, yes,” He chuckles. “I write them for people who want to express something to someone, but they’re not exactly Shakespeare.”

“So, people pay you to write love notes and such? Doesn’t someone else writing it kind of, like, defeat the purpose?”

“I don’t think so. People are the ones feeling the emotions in the letters. All I’m doing is helping them write it out.”

You nod, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh! Hey, what about your shirt?” You ask, suddenly remembering the events that led to this conversation.

He waves you off before moving to walk towards the office building.

“I don’t even like this shirt that much. I should probably be the one apologizing to you. Your coffee probably costs more than my shirt.”

“Maybe you can write me a letter to apologize.”

Theodore pauses outside the entranceway of his workplace to look at you with a curious gaze. A thoughtful smile makes its way onto his face before he says, “Maybe I can.”

Thinking about that experience usually brings a smile to his face. Still, as he stares at you across the room, he feels a new kind of feeling wash over him— jealousy.

Theodore agreed to come to this work party with you. So, he couldn’t understand why he was not at your side being introduced to the man that currently held your attention. All he could see was your hand softly touching the guy’s arm as you continued laughing at whatever the jerk was telling you.

On the other side of the room, you stand with—what was his name again?—trying to look for a reason to move on to other conversations without being rude. You’ve been talking to your coworker for a while, and your mouth is starting to feel numb from the number of times you’ve forced a laugh.

Normally, you would have left by now. But the man in front of you had the power to either promote you in your career or let you go. So, you’ve become accustomed to acting a little extra careful around him. This is precisely why you agree to leave the party to go grab a coffee with him. You pray this is the promotion talk you’ve been waiting for.

“I hate to leave, but I better get back to my boyfriend. He’s around here somewhere. After I talk to him, I’ll meet you out front, and we can go grab that drink,” You say, glancing around the room for Theodore. When you spot him, you wave to your coworker and quickly make your way over to him.

“Theo!”

He looks at you over the wine glass raised to his lips, barely acknowledging your existence. This makes you frown. Since when does Theodore not want to talk to you? Granted, it’s only been a few months since you started dating, but there hasn’t been a moment of it where he hasn’t wanted to talk.

“Is everything okay?”

He lets out a small ‘mmhm’ before continuing to drink from his glass.

“Okay… I don’t believe you. But I’ll let you tell me on your own time. So, I’ve got good news, baby.”

At this, Theodore perks up a little. He knows how important these parties are for socializing, and he hopes just as bad as you do—if not more—that you’ll be able to progress in your career.

“I think I’m going to get that job that we talked about! Think about it, Theo. By this time tomorrow, I could be making twice as much as I do now. Not only that, but this is another huge step towards my dream career.”

“That’s- that’s so great,” He smiles genuinely at you before engulfing you in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you Y/N.”

“I don’t have the job yet, so don’t be too proud.”

“Don’t be silly. I know you’re going to get it.”

“Well, wish me luck tonight then,” You smile.

“Tonight?”

“Yep! I’m about to go grab coffee with that guy-“ You point over to your coworker, who you’re pretty sure is named Josh. “And we’re going to talk about the promotion. Hopefully.”

Theodore’s eyes land on the man from before, who he recognizes to be the same man that made his blood run cold just a few minutes prior.

“Are you sure you want to get coffee with him? You don’t seem sure that he’s going to promote you,” He reasons.

“Yeah,” You breathe out. “But I think, even if he doesn’t give it to me tonight, this could still help my chances later on.”

“Do you want me to come with you? Just in case he tries anything,” Theodore asks, and you chuckle slightly.

“No, no. He’s harmless. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I could still join you guys if you want.”

“Thanks, babe, but really, it’s okay.”

He nods, somewhat dejectedly. “I guess I’ll just walk home. Will I see you tonight?”

“Not sure. It might be pretty late when we leave, so I might just go back to my place. I’ll text you and let you know.”

It wasn’t until later that night when Theodore checked the time on his phone—1:34 AM—that he realized you weren’t going to text him after all.

The city lights glowed through the bedroom curtains, and it saddened him to know you were out there with someone other than him. Theodore sighed to himself; for just a brief moment, he wishes Samantha was here to talk to. Despite their grim and abrupt ending, he missed just how simple life was with her. She certainly wouldn’t be out with some guy talking about a job promotion.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. He owed you the basic respect of not comparing you to his past partners; he has never done it before, and he does not want to start now.

He clicked your name on his phone and sent you a couple of texts ranging from, “If you need me, you can call me,” to “just checking in.”

When Theodore woke from his restless sleep in the morning, he checked his phone only to see that you never responded to his messages. He didn’t want to come off as obsessive, but he was your boyfriend, and he’s allowed to be worried about you.

After getting ready in his usual attire, he races outside to start his walk to your apartment. By the time he exited the elevator to your floor, his hands were sweating. He knocked on your door before wiping his palms against the front of his slacks.

“Hey Theo,” Your eyebrows crease in confusion, but you shoot him a smile nonetheless. “Did we have a breakfast date planned?”

“No, no. I just wanted to check in, see how your night went last night,” He reaches up to adjust his glasses nervously.

“Oh. It went okay. We didn’t really talk about career stuff, but I did let him know that it would be something I’m interested in. So, maybe he’ll remember that,” You shrug. “Also, I got your texts. I was going to call, but I haven’t really been up all that long. We stayed out pretty late, so I had to sleep in a little extra this morning.”

“Sounds like you both had a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. He just knows so much about my line of work, and you know how much I love what I do,” A hint of red tints your cheeks as you chuckle. “We actually had to come back here because I talked up until the coffee shop closed.”

Theodore wanted to laugh at that. He wanted to laugh because he knows first hand how much you can talk when it’s something you’re passionate about. But he doesn’t laugh. All he could hear was, ‘we had to come back here.’

“Here? You mean, your apartment, here? Why, uh, why did he do that?”

“It was only to finish up the conversation. He didn’t stay long,” You brush it off, grabbing Theodore lightly by his collar. “Also, how come I haven’t gotten a good morning kiss?”

He looks slightly torn before ultimately leaning into your touch and pressing your lips together. The kiss is slow and sensual, and he almost, almost, pushes you back into your apartment so he can give you a real good morning. He only decides against it when a thought pops into his head. What if that guy showed you a real good night?

With that thought infecting his brain, he didn’t even notice when you stopped kissing him.

“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting kind of weird since last night.”

“Yeah, I…sorry,” He scratches the back of his head before moving that same hand through his brown locks. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m just tired.”

You raise an eyebrow, not believing him for a second. “You’re my boyfriend, Theo. Don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying to me? C’mon, tell me what’s really going on.”

“I miss Samantha.”

“You—what?” You gaze at him, not really knowing how to respond. Of course, you knew all about Samantha. Just thinking about her, and what she put Theodore through, made your hands shake with anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She was… easier.”   You scoff, not believing your ears. You manage to keep your voice steady as you drag him into your apartment and shut the door.

“Again, what is that supposed to mean?”

“I never had to worry about her—not like this. In hindsight, I should have been worried. She was seeing more than six hundred people, and yet, the possibility of you seeing one somehow hurts worse.”

“Seeing…who? What are you talking about, baby?” You ask, genuinely confused. Your heart breaks into a million pieces once you see tears well up in Theodore’s beautiful eyes.

“The guy from your work. He was here last night.”

“So? Christ, Theodore. That doesn’t mean I slept with him. Who do you think I am?”

“You didn’t text me back. You told me you would let me know, and you didn’t. The only reason I heard from you at all was because I came by today.”

“I told you I slept in!” You raised your voice.

He matched yours, gesturing wildly. “Because you were out late!”

You groan. “We cannot keep having this same fight. A few weeks ago, you were worried about that bartender and me talking. Except you didn’t even give me a chance to explain to you that he was gay, and currently asking my advice about his relationship with a male. And this week, what? You’re worried that I’m sleeping with my fellow employees?”

He stays silent, looking everywhere but your eyes.

“Theodore, if this is how it’s going to be…we’re not going to make it very far in this relationship. You can’t be scared of me. I’m not Catherine, and I’m not Samantha.”

“You’re better.” He whispers, finally locking eyes with you. “You’re so fucking better, Y/N. I remember telling Samantha that I had experienced all the emotions I was ever going to feel—everything from then on out would be lesser versions of what I’d already felt. But that was so wrong. I have never felt such happiness, such jealousy, such overwhelming love for anyone else. And I am terrified of losing it. Of losing you.”

He pauses as you both wipe the tears that have fallen from your eyes. He gently takes your hands, continuing,

“I’ve never been anyone’s first priority.”

That hits you like a freight train, and you move to embrace him with all the strength left in your body. If there’s anything you want—no, need—in life, it is for Theodore Twombly to know how head over heels in love with him you are. Sure, it’s only been a few months. But you know he won’t mind hearing it this soon. In fact, you know it will probably be the only words that can truly comfort his heartbroken soul.

You tug on his hands that are still latched onto yours, and pull him down into a soft kiss.

“I love you,” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you too,” He gently runs his hands through your hair, before lifting your chin so that you’re eye to eye. “I’m sorry for saying that I miss Samantha. I’m lucky to have you, and that was out of line.”

“It was, but I understand,“ You sigh contently, before smiling at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry for staying out late last night and worrying you. I promise I’ll text next time for sure.”

Theodore nods, deciding it’s probably not the best time to overanalyze the ‘next time’ comment. Instead, he simply smiles at you and leans down to kiss you again. Yeah, he thinks to himself, he’s pretty lucky indeed.

A/N: Request fanfics if you want. Anything Joaquin related.

#joaquin phoenix #Her #hermovie #Theodore #theodore twombly #Theodore Twombly x reader #joaquin x reader #joaquin phoenix x reader #joaquin phoenix imagine #arthur fleck #commodus #abbe de coulmier #merrill hess #jack morrison #any of these characters #or some I'm forgetting #I'll write for #abe lucas

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seoulnotes · 4 years

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Luce in altis | ii. The Agreement

S Y N O P S I S | Passed down from centuries worth of history, the remnants of a hatred between two kings reside in a small village that serves as a border between their two feuding kingdoms. y/n lives in that village and must seek aid from one of the kings. Her trust is tested when she learns of the king that is truly wicked.

C H A R A C T E R S | Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, reader (y/n) ; (mentions of other members)

G E N R E | fantasy, romance, drama — royalty au

W A R N I N G S (chapter specific) | none

W O R D C O U N T | 4.2k

All parts here

⇠ prev. (i) | next (iii) ⇢

“I ask for your permission for your daughter’s hand.”

I knew that voice and the flower vase in my hand slipped from my grasp and water slushed at my feet and onto the wooden floor.

I heard enough of the single sentence to know why he was here, and it felt like my heart had nearly stopped. I’ve spent a single night at the festival with him and he was at my doorstep asking my family for permission to marry me.

“Why, that would be an honor,” mother had spoken. I didn’t bother with the spilled water and walked over it towards the front door.

“No, you can’t,” I said as I silently begged my parents with my eyes. “Please.” I shifted my glance to Taehyung, locking his gaze.

My parents remained between the two of us, glancing back and forth, but neither spoke. It suddenly became a conversation between me and him.

“Can I talk to you about this?” My tone wasn’t quite as demanding as I wanted it to be, only feeling small as it left my throat.

I wanted a reason, moreover, I wanted to convince him to change his mind. I walked past my parents and him with the implication for him to follow me deeper into the house. Thankfully beyond the main space had been a divide and beyond was the kitchen. I wisped around and hoped he had been behind me instead of standing at the front door.

“Why? I’ve only met you two days ago and spent the night with you at the festival. I know that this is how things usually are, but why?” Why me? I didn’t know whether I had been angry he was being stupid to act so sudden because he knew nothing about me at all or whether I was upset he had chosen to ask me.

“There’s something indescribable about your spirit.” My brows furrowed; how could I possibly respond to that?

“Please don’t. You don’t even know me; how could you possibly want to marry me?” Nevertheless, I had to continue my path of persuasion.

“Give me one week. The rest of it,” he paused, eyes somewhere else in the room. No doubt, both mother and father had been right behind the divide on the other side while this conversation is happening. Namjoon would be a few feet away, leaning against the wall, ears tentative for any loud noises, but not for the conversation.

“Give me the rest of the week to change your mind.” His stare held mine meaning he was serious. The way his eyes had a sheen on them, and how they grew big at his proposal, I knew he was internally pleading for me to agree. But why?

In the spur of the moment, I did; I fucking agreed. I nodded slightly and said, “Okay. The rest of the week. I’ll try to keep an open mind, but I don’t think it will work.” It sounded rude coming from my mouth, but I’d rather have voiced his true chances of changing my mind. Although, I should’ve been grateful since the beginning he had let me have a say in the matter.

I’m sure most would’ve demanded their way and had it by now.

—

When we returned and Taehyung promptly left explaining he had somewhere to be, I had forced a lie through my teeth.

“What happened?” The fifth time my mother was asking as she paced around the kitchen.

“He decides he wanted a week to know me better before asking for sure,” I glanced down at my clothes, pretending to dust at a piece of lint on my skirt. “I agreed.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, I suppose.

At this, she sighed in relief.

“You know he’s from Erebus, right?” I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted to tell my mother. To blurt out such a fact suddenly. No doubt, there was an inner desire to get rid of him and the possible proposal through my parents’ disapproval.

There were no good intentions behind this act.

“That’s fine,” she responded.

I felt my childish emotions react. The only thought in my mind was, she didn’t even care.

Suddenly, a wave of anger erupted inside of my chest with a flash of heat. My cheeks felt hot and my insides bitter as I clenched my hands, barely and hid them behind my skirt, and stood up from the kitchen chair and headed in the direction of my bedroom. “Excuse me,” I spoke quietly.

All I thought was, she didn’t even care that his kingdom was known to be cruel and she’d be sending her own daughter there.

When I had made it into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, the abrupt anger was replaced with a feeling of melancholy seeping in so I threw my body onto my bed and tucked my head into my arms.

I told myself there was no need to be against the tradition. I shouldn’t reject something that would help my family. I shouldn’t be selfish.

There was a brief knock from the door and then the creaking of the door sounded. I didn’t lift my head but instead wait for the footsteps as they grew louder against the wooden floor. There was a hand and it gently smoothed down my hair.

Then, I raised my head and sat up.

My father’s eyes bore sadness as his hand grazed the side of my arm. “I know you don’t like it. We just want you to know we’re giving you the choice, y/n.”

“But mother-,” I was quick to argue.

“She may seem to push the tradition onto you at times, but you have to understand the purpose that this tradition serves, the purpose that this village serves, and why she would want you to leave here so badly,” his eyes had a certain depth to them like he wanted me to understand terribly where their intentions were.

I nodded and he continued.

“She only wants the best, but she’d never let you lose your own choice. Although she may not tell you herself, don’t think of her as the enemy.”

“She tried to accept earlier,” I added, my eyes on the quilt my hands had been playing with. At times like this, I felt like a child, naive and irrational.

“She was accepting, giving our blessing, but he had to ask you too, y/n. Your decision is the final one,” he smiled gently.

His words settled the uncertainty in my chest, and I threw my arms around his neck, him releasing a chuckle in reaction. “Thank you,” I breathed out.

Yes, at times like yesterday, my mother had pushed forth with the tradition, but she would never go as far as not giving me a choice.

“Don’t isolate your mother so much, okay?”

I was never close with her as my father, naturally, it caused me to isolate her more when she pushed the tradition onto me. I had to know her intentions, so I let myself remember that thought.

—

Even though dreading the week, it couldn’t have passed by any quicker. Instead of dragging myself out of the house to meet him, day by day, I found myself the first to arrive at the village center and waiting with excitement brewing inside of me at the thought of another day spent.

He had kept his hands behind his back. He kept them tucked as I walked up to him.

As we began walking, Taehyung proposed his idea for the day, “You know, I heard there is a pond nearby that had frozen over for the winter and the people here love it.”

“Yeah,” I imagined the frozen-over pond. Not many knew about it, but those who did, ice skated there during the winter. “We, well those who know how to, meaning not me, –” my cheeks heated in embarrassment and I found myself pausing awkwardly, “–ice skate there when it’s frozen.”

“Well,” he started and stopped in the street. He meekly moved his hands from behind his back as two pairs of ice skates dangled from his hands by the laces. “I can teach you, I suppose,” the frown on his face replaced with a wide smile.

“Is that why you asked for my shoe size yesterday?” I remembered the strange question he asked with absolutely no context, except that he really wanted to know.

His response was a guilty smile as his free hand grasped mine. It seemed he had already planned this in advance and knew where the pond was.

He walked quickly, so quick that I could barely keep up with his pace. So, when we arrived at the pond, warm breaths of air came from my lips and appeared in the cold fog and he was next to me smiling.

“Well, at least no one is here to see me fall on my ass.”

His hand grasped mine once again as he guided me to a fallen tree, gesturing me to sit.

“No, no, you don’t have to,” my hand fell onto his shoulder as he knelt in front of me with the skates.

“Do you know how to put them on?” One of his eyebrows quirked up in amusement, teasing me slightly. “You said you didn’t know how to skate.”

I shook my head, hair falling in front of my face to hide my embarrassment. I felt like I might just die from embarrassment today. Cold fingers grazed my cheek and tucked the strand behind my ear, sliding down to my chin and forcing my gaze up.

“I’ll teach you that too,” he gave a cheeky wink.

He removed my right shoe and slid the ice skate on. “When you decide to do this on your own, next time, –” His fingers paused at the laces.

I interrupted him. “Who said I’ll do this again? What if I fall so bad that I swear to never do it again?”

His eyes reached mine. “You’ll love it, I promise.” His attention returned to the laces in his hands. “When you tie them, they have to be tight or else, you will really hurt yourself,” and he glanced up again to make sure I had heard.

I nodded in response, giving into his quick tips.

“I skate all winter back in the kingdom. Our winters are beautiful,” he paused. “You should see how beautiful it is when the snow falls sometime.” He said the second part more quietly.

Right, his kingdom lied in the far north.

“Tight enough?” He tugged onto the laces. I nodded.

When he had finished, he stood up, knees soaked from kneeling in the snow, and held both his hands out for me to grasp.

I stood and when I wobbled on the blades, my grip grew tighter.

“What about your skates?”

“I’ll put them on as you walk around and get used to yours.”

And yes, I fell onto the snow as he was putting on his skates and it puffed around me, leaving a gaping hole where I fell. He howled in laughter from the tree.

“Hey!” At that moment in time, I didn't care whether my voice came out as an annoying whine. “That’s not funny!”

Taehyung was howling from the tree more than ten feet away one second and in a whirlwind of black, something that resembled a cloud, he kneeled beside me, one arm casually on his knee and the other holding out his hand for me to grab.

I had leaned back slightly from the surprise. It was one of the ways he used his magic, I had seen only a few times this week.

He had used them to charm me, making certain objects appear out of nowhere. I had asked him previously what he was doing to move to a new place so quickly. Sailing, he called it. Then he asked me to join him as he wanted to show me what sailing felt like and I ended up being so nauseous from the magic, he promised to never do it again.

I took his hand and pulled to stand, still wobbling.

“Alright just follow me,” he walked towards the ice and got onto it first, guiding me.

And, I took my first unsteady steps onto the ice.

I bruised my ass like crazy, but Taehyung hadn’t lied when he said regardless, I’d still like it. At the end of our day, I could barely skate without trying to walk on the ice instead.

—

It was the last day. The last day had come and I didn’t even know the terrible drowning in my chest was the feeling of dread.

“I know where we can get the best food,” I turned around. “A treat for this week,” and my lips pulled into a smile as I stepped forward to grab his arm and tugged him towards the tavern.

“A tavern?” His brow quirked up in an interested expression. “Are we drinking?”

“We’re getting food. A tavern, it might be, but you haven’t tried the dishes they serve.” I gave him a pointed look; my brows rose up.

However, upon sitting at a table, there was shouting from slurred, deep tones from across the tavern. Both our heads turned towards the shouting.

“Erebus, you disgusting pigs, where are the whores you usually have clinging to you,” a man had howled in laughter, finger pointed towards the other table. His hand was on his swollen stomach as if that had made him laugh sick. His cheeks were a ruddy red; he was drunk.

“Hemera, what makes you any different besides the revolting show you put on for the rest of the world?” A man stood from the table countered, a permanent sneer on his face. His table bellowed in laughter and others echoed, “aye,” in agreement.

This is not happening. Another fight, with nobles, with magic. This meant the tavern probably would be torn to shreds.

I turned around and snatched Taehyung’s hand. His eyes trained on to the table of Erebus nobles.

“We have to go,” I spoke quickly, pulling at his hand to gain his attention.

As we left through the door, the first shattered sounded. I flinched slightly, my shoulders rose, my face in a wince.

“Does this happen often?” His eyes were wide as another shatter of glass resonated. He, too, had flinched slightly.

I only nodded. “During the festival usually since both kingdoms come. Naturally, there is hatred,” my shoulders shrugged.

He stared at the ground, hard, as if deep in thought.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” I paused for a second, thinking. “I want to show you somewhere.” Without realizing, my hand had continued gripping his, pulling him along. Only after a few minutes of walking had I realized the presence of his warm hand in mine and when I released my grip, he paid it no attention or didn’t mind it, still clasping his hand. I tried to pay it no attention as I reached the meadow clearing in the forest.

When I turned around, I was met with his awe-stricken face. His eyes wide and his mouth agape.

A slight laugh escaped me, and I asked in amusement, “What?”

“This place.” His hand stuck out to gesture around him. “How did you find such a place?”

A smile remained on my lips and I shrugged. “Got lost playing in the forest one day and found this place.” I reached over to grab his hand, “But it is most lovely at night when you lay in the middle and look at the stars above you.”

I tugged him towards the middle of the meadow. Thankfully I had on my cloak and he had his as we sat in the dried grass from the winter. Once I had sat, I continued to lay down, hand tucked behind my head and pulling my cloak around me.

A slight rustle beside me told me he had joined me on the ground. Silence settled around us.

“Cold?”

Before I had turned my head to respond with a ‘yes’, Taehyung had held a blanket towards me. No doubt, his magic again.

When I threw the blanket over us, I turned my head to look at him. “Did you really come here to find a wife?”

He didn’t respond. I clasped my hands on my stomach and took a deep breath, turning my gaze back to the lights in the star. I couldn’t detest him for that.

“Why though? Honestly, I never really understood why you nobles would choose some plain commoner from this village. We don’t even have magic.”

A deep-throated chuckle erupted from him. “You should meet some of the maidens from my kingdom.”

My brows furrowed, what was he getting at?

“I’m just kidding,” he quieted for a second. “I guess I wanted to marry someone different. They all just want me for my status back at home.”

“Wouldn’t anyone from here want the same?” Above, a bright star streaked across the midnight blue ocean. But what could I wish for since I was content at this exact moment?

I turned my head and noticed his eyes were closed. We can let that one pass for now.

“It just seems different. You, for one, are not clinging to my every will trying to seduce me for my status,” a smirk graced his lips. “I mean unless you are, then you’re doing a really good job at hiding the fact that you are and it may or may not be totally working,” he hinted teasingly.

I was daring as I asked, “How do you know I’m not? How would you know if my every move up until this point was not to seduce the Great Taehyung of Erebus for his status?”

At that moment, he opened his eyes, the same playfulness danced in them as he turned his head to meet my stare. “Well, I suppose you just revealed everything to me,” his tone was teasing as he spoke.

“You caught me,” a laugh escaping from me. He followed in suit, a chuckle erupting from him.

When our quick moment of laughter died down, he asked, “Is it bad? That I used the tradition? I never asked what you thought about it.” His words towards the end were mumbled.

“It’s not particularly bad. Maybe I just have a contrasting mindset.”

“What would you do?” He quieted before adding, “If you could do what you wanted without any old tradition in the way restricting you, what would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know whether I would choose to marry higher and be treated the same or maybe worse, as someone lowly, or to stay where I am. At least that way I’d still maintain my happiness no matter my status.”

Most said I was an utter fool for thinking of my happiness over a better life for both me and my family, but what life could I be living if there wasn’t happiness in it? Yes, my take on the tradition was buried deep in the fact that the people from the kingdom thought lowly of us and I didn’t want that treatment. It was also clear my happiness lay in the life I lived here.

Taehyung’s eyes shifted. He knew I didn’t want to leave, but I had made up my mind. I was okay with saying yes even if the bigger part of me didn’t want to. I could say yes because this man through the week had shown me that those from the kingdom weren’t bad. I could live with my decision and from what he’s shown me, I could possibly find some sort of happiness in it.

That stayed silent in me and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I’d say yes when he would ask again tomorrow, the end of the promised week.

“Why me? I was rude from the first moment we had met,” I said smiling, eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

Taehyung closed his eyes, taking in the silence of the forest at night and said, “Because you were you.” A smile played on his lips as if the simple answer was all there was; that it was enough for him because he knew what it meant.

However, I definitely did not. In the silence, he must’ve realized my further confusion.

“Because when you still showed me around the festival on the first night, I noticed some sort of light in you and it was lovely, refreshing from the people in my kingdom. I know it sounds completely mad to choose someone from just knowing them from one night,” for the first time, I saw Taehyung at a loss with his emotions. “It’s just that you seemed to not have a care in the world for whatever happened next, only to have the best time at the festival and not caring for this tradition. You were like a breath of fresh air.” He then sat up slightly, putting his weight on his arm as he turned to me. “If anything, this past week only proved that further.”

I felt heat creeping up my neck and I didn’t know how to respond but, “Thank you.”

“You know they say every time a star twinkles, it’s died however far away from us and the twinkle we see is it’s last before it explodes,” however his voice was drowned out mostly. I only had my thoughts focused on what he had just said.

I’d never heard someone evaluate my perspective better than the stranger I’d only met a week ago.

So when he walked me home that night, I was content with the choice I had made. Tomorrow will be the last day and when he asked again, I would be okay with saying yes and agreeing.

When he said goodnight and placed a light kiss upon my cheek, I saw a certain spark, a twinge in his eyes right before he turned around to walk down the path from the cottage.

—

Taehyung came the next morning, but instead of requesting for my parents at the front door, Namjoon had showed up in the kitchen saying he was requesting to speak to me.

I ran to the front door, grasping onto the wood as I gave him a confused stare.

“Good morning,” even if I hadn’t been running, my greeting came out winded. I had been anticipating what was going to happen.

“Can we talk outside?”

“Yeah, sure,” I walked past him, grabbing onto his arm. “Let’s go to the back.”

I led him towards the back of the cottage, our shoes crunching onto the dirt and pebbles outlining the path. I turned around; my hands clasped behind me waiting for his words.

“y/n, I’m not going to ask you to marry me,” his tone was soft, and I had no idea how to respond, but with silence. He continued, “After this week, I realized, I realized that it isn’t fair to you. To take your happiness from you like that.”

And at his words, I couldn’t show more gratitude as I gave a heart spoken, “Thank you. Thank you.” Naturally, I thanked him with a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso and once again whispering, “Thank you so much.”

His arms wrapped around me and tightened slightly in a way that almost said his, you’re welcome.

We stayed in the embrace for a while until I had pulled away. “Are you going back to the Erebus now?”

He nodded. “If you ever need my help, you can find me in the kingdom’s capital,” his tone playful. “Or if you indeed want to marry me,” he threw me a cheeky wink.

And I replied with a small smile, “Of course, I’ll jump over the crazy guards set up over the borders and then survive your magic-filled kingdom.”

A small chuckle came from him, but for whatever reason, it felt like there was an invisible partition in the air. Perhaps it was the goodbye we were in and the fact that we knew this was all said for jokes. I’d never be able to see him after this moment.

Even though knowing him for only a week, this departure felt like losing a friend. I kept my gaze on the floor, unsure what to think of the situation. His hand reached over to grasp mine and my stare rose to his.

“May we meet again, miss y/n,” his eyes beheld a certain sincerity and he gave a small smile as he rose my hand and pressed a gentle kiss onto the back of it and it felt like a burn to the back of my hand.

“Yeah,” I said under my breath.

Yeah, let’s meet again. But if we will, will be up to however fate wants to play it.

When I laid in bed that night, I still thought about that noble who managed to nearly capture my affection within a week. I was still happy he had decided not to force the marriage, but I wanted to feel something more with him as if a small part of me wanted more. If I could get to know him better, what he liked to do, what he didn’t like, even his goddamn political views. I wanted more moments to be with him whether as friends or foe.

So, I turned over and pulled the blanket tighter, he was gone now and would probably never come again. y/n don’t be so caught up.

a/n

idk why editing this made me feel some type of way. its almost like i didn’t remember writing this and im reading it for the first time. hope it gives yall even a small amount it gave me while i was editing !

yours truly, Selene ♡

feedback <3

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prorevkiss · 4 years

Text

Nighttime in Zone 3 - Secret Santa for Ferris @iggyvoid !!

The Girl gets taken. The Killjoys are each shaken up about it in their own little way.

warnings: cursing

notes: dude i am so sorry that this is so late, long story short ive had this written in my notebook for like a month now but i moved 30 minutes out into the country where i have no internet signal lolz

------

It was nighttime in Zone 3. Actually, I don't know why I said that. It was nighttime in all of the Zones. I suppose nighttime is different in Zone 3, the stars seemed to shine a little brighter and on some nights killjoys claimed to see a green moon.

The air smelled a bit like gunpowder and the body bags rolled in, whether taken by dead or simply sleeping. That was the trick of it, the dead bodies blended in so well with the simply sleeping ones that the Dracs could never tell the difference.

The four joys sat in or atop their car, all distressed in their own little way. The Girl had been taken that afternoon and none of them had a completely sure idea where she was or what was going to happen to her.

Jet Star was seated in the driver's seat, fingers tap tap tapping against the banged up steering wheel. His anxiety was through the roof and he wasn't planning on sleeping for the rest of the year.

Ghoul's eyes were red from crying, but if you repeat that, he'll kill you and everyone you love. Tears made tracks in the desert dust on his face and the wave of emotion made him completely and utterly exhausted.

Kobra...well, it should be a well-known fact by now that he knows two emotions: euphoria and rage. Kicking up dirt over and over, his mind was so clouded with anger that he didn't know he was beginning to tear a hole in his boot.

Party had shut down completely. Their eyes stared in the same place they had stared in for the past four hours. They wouldn't speak to anyone.

Kobra paced in front of his sibling, step step step, step step step, so on and so forth. He shook with rage until he turned to Party and said stiffly, "Shut. Up."

Jet looked at Kobra confusedly. "They didn't...say...anything."

Kobra sneered. “Sure they didn’t! That’s the whole thing.”

“What?” replied Jet.

“They should be-!” Kobra sputtered. “They should be fucking remorseful! It’s their fucking fault! They were the one who wanted to stick behind at the spot! If we hadn’t stayed behind this never would’ve happened!”

Party continued to stare forward, but their lips moved a tiny bit to let out a very small noise.

“I’m sorry.”

Kobra instantly deflated.

Party let out a shaky and painful sigh before climbing off the hood of the car. Avoidance was one thing Party Poison was very good at.

They walked and walked until the headlights of the Trans Am blended in with the stars in the night sky. In the other direction, they heard music through the dreary silence of the desert.

A killjoy hangout. There were some in the zones, the amount falling somewhere in between few and many. This one wasn’t one of the more known ones, like the Nest, because Party wasn’t extremely familiar with it.

As soon as they walked in, almost all of the killjoys recognized them. Some tried to say hi, but they pushed right past.

This hangout was probably a house from before the Analog Wars, like most of the buildings in the zones were. Party walked into an open bedroom and spotted a walk-in closet. They had always dreamed of having one like this, but they didn’t think of that at that very moment. All they simply did was sit under a shelf and stare forward, letting things storm within.

------

As Party left eye and earshot, Ghoul wiped his eyes and scoffed. After leaping out of the backseat of the car, he nodded at Kobra angrily. “Nice going, man.”

He took off in the direction Party had gone.

Ghoul began to see commotion through the desert loneliness. A joy hangout.

He walked through the building. Some unnamed punk song was playing through a boombox. Only places like these had them.

He didn’t expect to see Poison in the crowded part of the hangout. He knew his partner wouldn’t go out and party when they were upset, despite their name.

He poked his head through the doorframe of an open bedroom. He would rather not have had to look in a bedroom. If the door was shut he definitely wouldn’t have.

The lights were off, but he saw a reflection of the hall lights in some sort of glossy blue fabric in the closet. Ah, he thought.

He turned on the closet light and sure enough, there was Party Poison. He sat next to them and laid his head on their shoulder. This is usually what one did when the other was upset. No words, just physical reassurance.

One word did end up escaping Ghoul’s lips: “Breathe.”

And Party did. They took a deep breath for the first time in probably months. And with that breath came a catch in their throat. Soon after came tears from their eyes.

A duration of events meant those small tears led to full sobs. Their body shook and they kept repeating two words: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Ghoul held Party’s face and whispered to them. “Sh...”

Those sobs turned back into small tears, which were soon kissed away from their face by their boyfriend.

“We’ll get her back.” Ghoul reassured gently.

“Are you sure?” Party sighed.

“I have a feeling,” Ghoul said. “I’ve never had a wrong feeling.”

Party breathed shakily. “If- when we get her back, how do I tell her it was my fault? What if she already knows it was my fault? How do I get her to forgive me?”

“Hey,” Ghoul replied, concerned. “It was nobody’s fault except for Korse and those Dracs. And listen, your brother gets irrational sometimes. I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said.”

“The irrational part I know for sure.” Party laughed. “But...if it weren’t for me, we would’ve been gone by the time they got there.”

“Baby, how could you have known something like that would happen? It was a huge unfortunate coincidence. And how do you know they wouldn’t have found us at the next place, or the next? There’s no way to tell the future.”

“I guess you’re right.” Party still couldn’t quite look Ghoul in the eyes.

“I know you feel guilty. All of us do. Even Kobra does. But be logical. Know it wasn’t your fault.”

Party leaned over and kissed Ghoul softly before returning to where they were sitting.

A short while after that, the two heard the voices of their companions through the thin walls of the room. They weren’t quite sure what Kobra was saying, but soon enough, the other two entered the closet door.

Kobra sat next to his sibling. He fiddled with his hands and couldn’t really look up at Party’s face. “Man, I’m...I’m, uh, really sorry. I was, like, really mad and I think I needed someone to blame so it would, like, make sense? Um...It really wasn’t your fault and I’m- again, I’m really sorry, I-”

Party engulfed him in a hug.

“You’re rambling.” they mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know.” He laughed.

The four of them walked out of the hangout and all sat against the Trans Am and began looking at the stars.

Nighttime in Zone 3 was different. There was something weirdly comforting about a green moon.

#danger days #killjoys #ttlotfk

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lalunaunita · 5 years

Text

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 5

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy

Rating: Teen

Summary: Bruce and Selina go on a lunch date. Selina receives disturbing news. Batman and the Commissioner set a trap for Catwoman.

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 5

Bruce got to the office thirty minutes early, energized by Batman’s morning escapade at the pet shop. He couldn’t get Catwoman’s earnest rage from the night before out of his head. He should have put together the pieces sooner, but to be honest, the plight of stray cats around Gotham City was very low on his radar. The humans of Gotham suffered as much, if not more, than the animals—though he agreed deep down that the need to care for the city’s animals wasn’t diminished by Gotham’s other problems.

Debra looked up from her desk and smiled when she caught Bruce’s eye. Uh oh, thought Bruce. I know that smile.

“I made you an appointment,” Debra sing-songed.

“I’m all booked up for today—er, errands and that sort of thing. Alfred knows,” Bruce answered, trying to glide past his secretary’s desk.

The sanctuary of his office was only ten feet away. He could make it in three seconds.

“It’s a lunch date. Alfred said lunch was clear today. Selina Kyle.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. Debra’s dimple was out in force and couldn’t have been more charming. She held a pen at the ready over her desk calendar. Her voice oozed a false nonchalance.

“Shall I cancel it? For your errands?”

The pen descended quickly . Bruce involuntarily reached out a hand to stop it. Debra was pitiless!

“No! Ah, I mean, no, thank you, Debra. Lunch with Selina sounds nice. I’m surprised she called, honestly.”

Bruce snatched his hand back and stuffed it into the pocket of his well-tailored suit. He felt uncharacteristically nervous. Between Debra and Alfred, he sometimes wondered who exactly was in charge.

“Don’t be. I think the Gotham Cat and Habitat Conservation Society is following up on several of the larger donations; sort of a one-on-one thank-you for your contribution. Or at least that’s what Ms. Kyle said.” Debra shrugged and set down her pen, turning to her computer.

Summarily dismissed, Bruce walked the last few feet to his office; work and a particularly hairy land development issue was waiting for him, after all. He turned at the doorway and looked back, his mouth half open and a half-finished thought on his lips. Debra cocked a suppressive eyebrow at him. He shut his mouth, shook his head, and closed the door behind him.

By the time lunch rolled around, Bruce couldn’t have been more happy about the break. He’d researched both hard and soft copies of Gotham’s property and zoning laws for several hours and was ready to tear his hair out. He knew his legal team had already pored over the pages in depth. But Bruce Wayne was smart too, when he chose to show it, and he certainly was stubborn. A morning spent with dusty old legal volumes wasn’t out of character. He leaned back in his luxurious office chair and scrubbed his hands over his eyes with a sigh. There were absolutely no loopholes. He’d have to pay the piper if he wanted to start residential and commercial development on that land.

Debra buzzed in on his intercom. “Don’t forget your lunch date, Mr. Wayne. Alfred will pick you up in five minutes.”

As if he could! Bruce grinned to himself and rose, smoothing the rumples out of his button-down shirt. He snagged his suit jacket on the way out of the office, gave Debra a conciliatory wink, and got on his way. Unabashed, Debra winked back.

“There he goes—like a bat out of hell when it comes to Selina,” she sighed happily to herself.

Selina’s glossy short locks were easy to pick out among the lunch crowd at The Dark Bite, a trendy downtown restaurant. She was seated outside under the shade of gently swaying branches. Trust Selina to know a spot with natural greenery to brighten the experience, Bruce thought.

She looked up and smiled as he approached.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

Selina pulled a mock frown. “You’d better not. I’m expecting a high-powered businessman to join me for lunch.”

“I’ll just move over when he arrives,” Bruce assured her and seated himself.

Selina smiled and looked the other way as he removed his suit jacket. An impeccably dressed waiter poured a glass of water, then another of white wine.

“I hope you don’t mind; I chose something ‘summery’ to match the weather,” Selina said, indicating his wineglass with the wave of a hand.

“Sounds perfect,” Bruce agreed.

“So how are you? How’s Alfred? Dick?” Selina asked, once ordering was out of the way.

Bruce sipped his water and leaned back into his rattan chair.

“We’re all in good health. Dick’s a little bored by summer vacation, but he’ll survive. He’s a bit too old for camp now. He needs to find a job.”

Selina let loose a silvery peal of laughter. “You definitely sound like a dad. Are you going to find him something at Wayne Enterprises?”

Bruce shook his head. “Maybe in a few years, but he’s too young and too charming to actually do any work at ‘dad’s’ business for now. They’d let him get away with murder—and he would take full advantage.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Selina chuckled.

“Guilty as charged,” Bruce agreed with a grin.

They paused, comfortable in the lull. A breeze stirred the napkins under their water glasses and sent the leaves overhead into a dizzying swirl. Dappled shadows danced delicately across Selina’s beautiful face. Bruce let his mind wander into territory he scrupulously avoided. Selina’s company was always a delight and left him strangely wanting when he was alone once more. He couldn’t help but wonder how a relationship with her would be. To ask for more—to give more. To see her smile each day, and hear her voice murmur close to his ear. At times like this, he was keenly aware of the shadow of the bat over his shoulder. Its burden felt heavy, its protection thin.

Bruce shook himself and tuned into what Selina was saying.

“...and we’ve put down earnest money to secure the property, and things are just going perfect. The new Gotham Cat Sanctuary should start moving ahead full speed in about a month. Honestly, that’s why we’ve been making the rounds and saying thank you to our donors. It’s such a perfect piece of land, and your contribution came at just the right time. Bruce, I can’t wait to make this place a reality. It’ll have room for all kinds of cats, big or small. State of the art veterinary facilities, specifically designed for feline health. Enough room that we’ll be able to take in new animals indefinitely—which is so important with all the kill shelters here in town! And there are some big cats with strange histories; we find more of them every day. Do you know, down in Texas, there’s a lion in a sanctuary zoo that was owned by a drug dealer? Can you imagine? Those are the kind of animals I want to help.”

Selina’s eyes shone with passion. Bruce stared, mesmerized. Selina was famously unflappable—he should know. He’d been trying to get a rise out of her for years. Her new project had clearly taken over, in the best way.

Her phone rang at the edge of the table. She checked the screen, thin eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Bruce. Do you mind if I take this?” Selina half-rose from her chair.

Bruce inclined his head. Selina pushed away from the table and stepped over to the waist-high wrought iron fence that enclosed the restaurant’s porch. Their food arrived moments after she left, a phenomenon that never seemed to fail in Bruce’s experience. He unrolled his silverware, settled his napkin on his lap, and awaited Selina’s return.

His first clue that something was up was a shift in Selina’s posture as she returned. She still smiled, but it appeared glued in place. Bruce set down his fork, concerned.

“What’s up, Selina?” he asked, trying to peer under her lowered lashes.

She shook her head, chin dipping toward her chest. Bruce leaned forward and reached over with one hand. Her fists were balled up tight, white knuckle tight. He could feel tension thrumming under her thin skin.

“Selina, please tell me,” he murmured.

Her chin trembled a bit as she took a shaky breath. One tear dropped onto the tablecloth.

“The property’s been purchased,” she whispered.

“Oh, no…” Bruce groaned.

Selina nodded, frowning. “Some developer made a better offer. More likely he bribed the right city official. There were no other offers as of this morning! They were going to sign papers with us this afternoon. I can’t believe this.”

Bruce rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, willing her fingers to unclench beneath his own. Selina brought up the edge of her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. She gave a gusty sigh.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I’ve ruined our lunch.” She cast regretful red eyes over the table.

Bruce shook his head forcefully. “Don’t be. Selina, I know we’re not close, but… you can come to me with anything. I’ll always listen.”

Selina gave a tremulous smile. “I know that Bruce, and thank you. And you’re wrong. We are close. We’re just busy.”

“That’s true enough,” Bruce agreed. His heart wavered between a plunge of concern for his friend and a leap at the smile he’d brought back to her face.

They turned to other topics over the meal, but Selina’s bubbly energy never quite rallied. Bruce felt—and compartmentalized—irrational anger at the investors who’d cheated her out of her dream. Not a single call came through on his phone. He knew he had Debra to thank for that.

Inevitably, the time came for Selina to return to her other duties. Bruce didn’t press her for another glass of wine or dessert. She’d stayed pleasant through the meal, but it was clear she needed time to process her disappointment.

He escorted her to the valet and waited as her car was brought up.

“So, have you heard about the recent string of cat thefts in Gotham?” Bruce asked.

He’d stayed well away from mentioning it to anyone, but Gotham PD had broken the story in a news conference just that morning.

Selina stiffened and cocked her head to look at him. “I saw it on the news, yes.”

“It’s such a disparate collection of animals—big cats, a show cat, kittens from a pet store. I wonder what the commonality is,” Bruce mused.

“I trust Gotham PD to handle it,” Selina shrugged. “Or maybe Batman will get involved.”

“Maybe,” agreed Bruce.

Her car ready and running at the curb, Selina turned to Bruce and took his hands. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Bruce. For everything. It’s really nice to see you.”

He gave her fingers an extra squeeze and let go. “You too, Selina.”

He watched her drive away, brake lights flashing as she merged with traffic. Alfred pulled up a few seconds later and came around to let Bruce into his vintage black Rolls Royce. Bruce smiled to himself when he noticed the well-trained valets side-eyeing the vehicle. Lost in thought, he strapped in and let Alfred return him to Wayne Industries.

Batman met up with Commissioner Gordon late in the evening at the GCPD Headquarters. Everyone except the beat cops and the front desk on duty had gone home for the day. Things were quiet as Batman slipped into a utility closet window he was familiar with. He didn’t know whether Jim found it unsettling or reassuring that Batman could get into into the GCPD building undetected, but it was always wise to have as much knowledge of a space as possible. From inside, the closet had a simple twist lock. Batman let himself out, careful to check the deserted hallway. Jim’s office was three doors away.

He noted first the noises coming from a cat carrier on Commissioner Gordon’s desk. Someone was protesting their incarceration.

“Ruffy, I presume?” asked Batman from the doorway.

“Oh! Batman! Do you always have to sneak up like that?” Commissioner Gordon grabbed at his heart as he looked up with wide eyes.

“Sorry, Jim. Force of habit.” Batman came up to the desk and peered into Ruffy’s carrier. “You’re a handsome fellow. Ready to serve your city, Ruffy?”

The tiny white cat meowed a question in return.

Jim rolled his eyes as he removed Ruffy from the cage. “Needy little thing. I can’t deny I love him, though. He’s a good cat.”

He held his pet up high as Batman pulled a thin collar outfitted with a location transmitter from his bat belt. He placed it around Ruffy’s neck and buckled it.

“Now, you’re sure the collar is secure?” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“You won’t lose Ruffy—that’s a promise. I’ll take good care of him,” answered Batman.

Commissioner Gordon gave Ruffy’s ears one last scratch, then deposited him into Batman’s waiting gloves. Ruffy revved up his purr. The Commissioner fixed the little cat with a droll expression.

“Well! Would you look at that! How quickly I’m replaced,” commented the Commissioner.

“Makes my job all the easier,” Batman chuckled.

He didn’t mention the catnip hidden in one pocket of his belt. Batman hitched Ruffy into an underarm carry and shook hands with Commissioner Gordon. He opened a window and ducked out under the panes of glass. The night air was cool and pleasant. Little Ruffy’s whiskers twitched as he sniffed about curiously.

“If my suspicions are right, I’ll have him back to you in less than a day, Jim. Thanks for volunteering Ruffy.”

Commissioner Gordon gave a final nod. He stepped back as Batman fired his grappling hook and swung away.

A few blocks away, Batman dropped down into an unnamed alley and remotely opened the Batmobile. Ruffy leapt right in and settled himself to one side of Batman’s centered seat. Batman shook his head.

“I’d almost think you understand what we’re up to. Or maybe it’s just the catnip,” he told the cat.

Batman and Ruffy drove to the edge of town and stopped at a deserted block. The area was somewhat known for being Catwoman’s haunt, although of course no one knew her actual location. Glimpses and sightings, amounting to little more than urban legend, were Batman’s main body of evidence. He was reduced to hoping it was true—and hoping she was not watching from the shadows. Batman cast a keen eye all around as the translucent carapace of the Batmobile slid back. Not a single shadow stirred.

“Alright, Ruffy. This is it. Do the Commissioner proud,” said Batman.

He exited the vehicle and picked Ruffy up. He deposited the small cat in an unassuming alley with a surprisingly decent amount of trash. The area was known for non-violent squatters. As a result, Batman hardly ever visited it. Thieves and murderers were more his concern. He pressed a hidden button on the side of Ruffy’s collar, then let the cat go.

Ruffy immediately took off down the alley to explore. Batman felt a twinge of concern. Ruffy was a pampered housecat, not a tough, feral stray. If he got in a fight, he could literally be eaten alive. Batman had already noted the absence of other strays—just like the alley near the pet shop. Hopefully Ruffy wouldn’t encounter another cat at all.

Batman leapt back into the Batmobile and sped away. He had a hiding spot or two even in this part of town. He parked not far from Ruffy’s alley and turned off the vehicle. Ruffy’s locator pinged on the Batmobile’s display and the readout of his vital signs was normal. Batman settled in for the night. He was officially on a stakeout.

#llua writes #the purrfect crime #batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #catwoman

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all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 5 years

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Red ~ Embry Call (Part 3)

A/n: Y’all still Alive? Good. You might not be after this.

Word Count: 4120

Losing him was blue like I'd never known; Missing him was dark gray all alone; Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met...

We walked for a long time, utter silence between us. It was heavy and thick, but not awkward. We left the beach altogether, moving to the street and then past, to the woods. We walked through the green a long while before I started getting nervous. Irrational fears began creeping in, eating away at my edges.

Was he going to kill me? Was he going to taunt me? Make fun of me? See how far he could push me until I snapped? Maybe he didn’t actually care about me or have his feelings back. Maybe this was a prank. Maybe that gang of his had turned him into a total ass. And a good liar. Maybe he was just seeing how far I would follow him before I realized he was pulling my leg. Maybe he was dragging me out far as I would let him before he took advantage of how vulnerable and exposed I was and took advantage of me and-

Okay there. I needed to calm down.

I watched his arms swing, the steps he took. They seemed heavier, as he was more tired than I’d known him to be. He was never one to have the best sleeping schedule but it was regular and not too bad. Six hours every night, sometimes more. And... sometimes less. He seemed like he’d been getting a regular three or four these days. His shoulders sagged a bit. He was taller, more muscley. Maybe they’d had him getting up earlier and working out so he would be as fit as they needed for whatever shenanigans they got up to?

I imagined my Embry in a gang. Getting everybody to pull pranks or rough housing with the other boys. Sharing secrets and making friendships, his smile wide as his eyes found me with a soft smile on his face at the end of the day. I imagined him, without me by his side. Watching me from a distance, wanting me but for some reason never approaching me. I imagined him trying to be lose, good friends with people he didn’t know because for whatever reason he’d left all those close to him behind.

Yeah. It didn’t fit. He was awkward and often self conscious because he felt like he was really annoying, so though he was social and had quite a few acquaintances, he had two best friends and me. He kept his circle small and he liked it that way. The Four Musketeers. That way he could be as loud and immature and stupid and bothersome as he wanted and he knew that none of us would get genuinely, really bothered without telling him so.

Nothing made sense, and my curiosity finally became too much for me when I caught Embry’s arm. I immediately pulled back though, hissing as he turned to me with a surprised expression as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Embry, you’re hot!” He smirked and I glared. For a second we were ourselves again but then we quickly returned to the him and me we were now. “You know what I mean.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I guess here’s a good a place as any.” He huffed, nervousness rolling off of him in waves. He reached down and pulled his shirt off.

Spinning around, I covered my eyes. “WHOA!” My heart began racing wildly. “Embry put your shirt back on, NOW!”

Embry chuckled. “You’re acting as if you’ve never seen my shirtless before. I mean, you’ve seen me naked.”

To my horror, a burning blush was added to my fixation with his chest and how I didn’t truly realized how much muscle he’d gained until I could see every detail for myself. “Yeah, well...” I struggled, but just gave up and blurted, “That’s when we were having sex. We’re not having sex right now.”

Another chuckle and I wanted to slap him. “Y/n, turn around.”

“No,” I refused.

He sighed. “Y/n, please. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, but I do have to show you something that you have to see for yourself for you to understand and believe me. Really understand and really believe me. Y/n please.” He was pleading, his voice full of worry and stress, and I couldn’t resist him. I turned, my hands dropping to my sides. The second I was looking, he took several steps back and then tensed.

And suddenly he was hunching, his body curling and rippling as he bent almost to breaking and then elongated, his bones themselves morphing into a new shape. It was horrible to watch as I worried he must be in an awful amount of pain, but before I could even finish the thought to call out for him or scream or race at him or anything, a wolf was standing where he had been and I had a whole new problem to worry.

My head was spinning wildly. A wolf? Embry... he was... a wolf? Wait what? My face was screwed up in confusion, and all I could think to feel was anger. But then it registered. Embry. Was a wolf. Oh my gosh! “Werewolf,” I whispered. He looked up at me, and the human like eyes of his threw me for a loop. I seemed to be working in slow motion, working through layers of honey to reach the conclusion I already had in my hands. “You’re a werewolf.”

Shook took over. Where fear or panic or anger would have taken place in other people’s places, all I felt was exploding curiosity. Energized and ecstatic. My body was itching as I moved closer to him, slowly but nowhere near as slow as I should have or would have approached a regular wolf. My hand moved through his fir after reaching out, my eyes widening as realizing finally hit me and pushed me through that finally string of shock.

I tackled him to the ground, straddling his side as I looked up him up close. He huffed in surprise, caught completely off guard as my hands wandered, touching his feet and then legs, side and fur and nose and ears. “Oh my gosh this is amazing. There are actual werewolves. You... you’re a werewolf. That is amazing! Absolutely splendid! This is why you left, of course. And.. the heat,” I realized, my hand resting between his ears as I paused, realizing. “Because you’re a wolf. Wolves, especially your size, radiate so much heat. That’s amazing!” Mindlessly, my hand began to move on his head, my fingers scratching.

He whined, relaxing under my touch. I realized what I was doing and did it harder, scratching behind his ear. After a second I added my other hand- one had for each of his ears. “Do you like that, boy?” I asked gently.

He suddenly pulled his head away, grunting annoyedly. I realized that I was analyzing him like he was a scientific discovery and petting him like he was a dog and I lost it. I rolled off of him onto my back and then onto my side, curling my knees into my chest as I busted up into body wracking laughter. “YOU LET ME PET YOU! YOU- YOU ENJOYED ME PETTING YOU!”

He groaned and I closed my eyes, tears falling down my face. After a second, he reached over and a human hand touched me. He wore only a shirt and shorts, his jeans and shoes from earlier discarded off to the side. I began to calm down as he looked at me, kind of worried. “Are you okay?” The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips- true to the nature of our relationship, one of us could not laugh so hard and so genuinely without calling a smile at the vert least to the other.

“I’m okay,” I confirmed, wiping my face of the tears and forcing myself to sit up as I caught my breath. “I’m sorry, I... Tht must have been a weird reaction.”

He grinned. “Definitely not one we’ve gotten before.”

After a pause, I looked at him with intrigue. He rose an eyebrow. “Do you turn on the full moon.” And so questions began.

“Only when we want to. Just like any other day.”

“Do you have an alpha/omega/beta system like in the stories?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s-“ I cut off, realizing. “Sam’s alpha?”

“Yep.”

“How often do you change?”

“Usually whenever we get upset or our heart race increases, but we can change whenever we want. Usually when there’s a threat or for practice or routes... At least once every other day, on average.”

“What determines your fur color?”

“I have... no idea.”

“How fast do you run?” I immediately followed up.

He smirked. “Faster than vampires.”

My eyes went wide and he paled as he realized his mistake. “Vampires?” I asked weakly. He nodded wordlessly, allowing me space to process and think. I nodded after a second. “Is that what you meant by threats I didn’t know of?” He nodded again. “Do you guys only fight vampires?”

He nodded. “That’s why we were created. Kill the vampires, protect the humans.”

That put me at ease. I trusted him to protect me, as much as I trusted him not to hurt m earlier when he was a wolf. I... I trusted him. I trusted Embry, with my life. Literally. Oh my gosh. “What are vampires like?” He explained the red versus gold eyes, telling me about the Cullens and then having to explain Bella and Edward. I was surprised to realize that things had gotten so far and once Embry explained the treaty, I was even more surprised that Sam was letting it happen. He told me about what did and didn’t work so far as lure that I knew. Garlic, no. Crosses, not to his knowledge. Rip them apart and burn the bodies; they glitter in the sun. Created to be alluring to humans, like sirens pulling sailors to their death. “Land sirens,” I mused. He smiled, nodding. We’d been going on forever and I thought I was out of questions and knew all there was to know... until something occurred to me. “Embry?”

“Yeah?” He asked. He had moved close and was playing with my fingers. I hadn’t pulled away- it felt too good.

A little nervous, I asked quietly, “Do wolves have mates? Because vampires have true mates and in the wild wolves have packs and mates and all that. Because, actual wolves don’t have caste systems with alpha and all that, they just have families. Did you know that the guy who came up with the Alpha theory actually proved that he was wrong and told people he was wrong but no one listened? Anyway my point is that they’re little families, with mates and cubs and loyalty like none of their. So... Does that translate over?”

Embry let me babble and talk on as if he was stalling, but when the time came he looked up at me, that nervousness back in his eyes and posture where he’d been so relaxed and content before. “Y/n, I... I have something to tell you.”

But moving on from him is impossible when I still see it all in my head: burning red! Burning it was red!

My eyes traced lines in the dirt. “So you imprinted on me.” I hadn´t asked a question so he didn’t say anything. A moment stretched on and I felt my insides grow heavy inside of me, dragging and pulling and getting all tangled up. “And it’s painful for wolves to be away from their imprints, so Sam let you tell me.” Embry still kept quiet. I looked up. “Is there a way for you to undo it?”

His eyes flared with pain. “Do you want there to be?”

“It just feels... against your will. What if you hadn’t imprinted on me? What if you had imprinted on someone else_ Would your feelings for me just have been completely wiped away as if they never mattered? Years of love and familiarity and beating the odds, just... gone.” My stomach twisted tighter and I felt nauseated so I changed my train of thought. “What if your imprint is way younger? Or way older?”

That struck a cord - Embry flinched. “When we’re shifting regularly, we stop aging. Whenever we choose to shop shifting, we grow older. We learn to control our emotions and overtime, it gets harder to shift. And harder to control it once you do again. Like a muscle or a talent. If you don’t use it, you get rusty.”

“So you stop aging until they’re old enough?” I asked, trying to understand how people worked out these problems. I mean, it´s cool that they would do that for their imprint and that there was such a connection but it still didn´t feel right.

“Precisely,” he agreed. “If they’re older...” He shrugged, awkwardness evident in his features. “It sucks.”

My eyes widened as that sunk in. “That’s horrible! What if I decided to take another path? No future is certain, no decisions are permanent. Love even changes over time and you change with it or it fails. What if we go to different colleges? What if it gets too weird with the age gap that were eventually going to have? What if we change and aren’t compatible anymore? What if- what if I die? That’s so much pressure. I have to stay close and in good condition or you wither away into a depressed morning? Embry...”

He looked really upset, and I wondered where we would be if he hadn´t imprinted on me. I wondered where we would have been if we never met. Did the last years even matter if we would have ended in this same place anyway, twisted by fate and supernatural animalistic instinct and drive? I felt like I was breathing through a straw and he reached out, his hands flattening on my neck and the side of my face, his thumb caressing my jaw to soothe me. “I��m so sorry,” he whispered with a broken voice. “I know you hate being forced into things, and you really don’t HAVE to be with me. Please don’t be with me again if you really don’t want to, I’d rather anything than you forcing yourself to date me when you don’t want to. I’ll make friendship work, I promise.”

I grew sad. “Can you fall in love with anyone else? Ever?”

He frowned. “No.”

Pulling my face from his loving hold - unfortunately (I didn´t want to but I needed a clear mind and Embry´s touch gave me anything but, especially after so long when he touched me like that) - I sighed. “I do love you, Em. And... I do trust you. I just-“ I was going to forgive him right there and end the tension. In the end, it didn´t matter how we got here or what brought us together. As always, we prevailed despite everything being thrown at us. It wasn’t worth hurting him if I knew I was fine anyway. But then I thought of the months of his disappearing. Months avoiding me, convincing me that he didn’t care about me at all. And maybe I did want to forgive him, but not quite yet. “I need some time to think about all of this. Process. Okay?”

He nodded and we both stood. After a second I smiled, opening my arms and he moved into them, hugging me firmly but gently. It was wonderful. I breathed his scent in, listening to his heart beat as my ear pressed to his chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

I smiled. “I know.” I leaned away. “Walk me back to the beach?”

Embry stepped away, nodding and smiling sadly. It almost made me want to stop... We made our way back to where we came from originally, and I snagged my bike from the ground, waving at Embry before taking off toward my house.

In actuality, I knew I loved and trusted Embry and that´s all that matters. And maybe it was cruel or petty of me, but I wanted him just to squirm a little bit more. Know what it was like to have someone you love choose to not be with you. To doubt that you´ll be with the person you would give anything for, go anywhere for, be anyone for. I wanted him to fear, just for a little bit, that he wouldn´t have his promised happily ever after.

Laying in my bed, I put my phone face down and silenced. It had been an unspoken thing that I would text Embry I was safe when I got home. While we were together at least. Now, I´m sure he assumed but I hadn´t promised or established that I would continue the tradition, even though in any other circumstance I would have.

I felt a little mean, worrying him, but a part of me was still hurt and angry. If I couldn´t stand to cut things off permanently but I also couldn´t simply erase months of deep emotional pain, I saw this as a happy medium. Some classic, well planned, carried through revenge.

I loved the boy, but this almost felt good.

Was that cruel of me?

...Oops.

Oh losing him was blue like I'd never known; Missing him was dark gray all alone. Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met 'cause loving him was red! Yeah, yeah red! We're burning red!

It took him an entire week to lose his shit.

After being okay with missing him for so long and knowing I could go back anytime I wanted, it was surprisingly easy for me to be away from Embry. I missed him, my body itching to make up all the time we’d missed over the last few months, and I yearned to answer his texts and hang out with him and kiss him and hug him and UGH, but I had self control. I had learned it when all I’d wanted to do was go to Embry’s house, knock down his door, kiss him, and demand he stop whatever the hell he was doing... but I couldn’t, because he’d told me to never talk to him ever again.

After those six days, though, I lay awake at night thinking about Embry and remembering back to when we’d been together when a sharp and inconsistent tapping sounded on my window. Not tapping like fingers against the glad, but... I looked over, jumping when a pebble the size of my pinkie fingers came in contact with the glass. It was thin but still! I scrambled out of bed, moving to the window. I looked out and immediately saw Embry, who was pacing anxiously as he messed with the rock in his hands, breathing hard as he looked about ready to have a panic attack.

Because I lived in a one story house, I didn’t know why he didn’t just knock on my window, but maybe he was as much of a romantic as I remembered. I opened my window. “Em?”

He turned to me, relaxing at the sound of my voice as if it alone had flipped a switch in him. He itched to move to me, I could see it, and I smiled, moving aside too let him crawl in through my window. He didn’t hesitate even a split second, moving to go through before I was even out all of the way. Once he was in, I closed my window again. I turned to him and he looked at me. “Have you decided to avoid me then? Because I mean I definitely understand why but could you have at least told me? I’ve been wondering-“

“I don’t want to be with you, Embry,” I deadpanned. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again.” I wasn’t looking at him, the exact same a he had treated me when he told me. My voice was hard and rough and he took a step back. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

He whimpered. “Y/n, please... it hurts to be away from you. Not just because of the wolf thing, but knowing that I can have you back. I asked Sam. He said it’s different than it was with Emily. Moving faster, affecting more severely. It’s me, Y/n. It’s ME that hurts to be away from you. ME that loves you. Let’s just be friends?”

Turning to him, I looked him in the eyes. His glasses over, watering, as he prepare for me to totally reject him. I could see the loss in his eyes without me having to the say the words, and I could see his heart break. That was when I dropped it all. I stopped immediately, the softness and warm coming back to my face. He was instantly confused. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

His eyes widened and betrayal and a different kind of hurt filled his face. “Is this a joke to you?” He snapped. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? For some petty kind of revenge? How old are you?!” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as my own anger exploded. “Don’t get angry at me, you have no right! You hurt me Y/n! For an entire week I suffered until it physically hurt with worry, getting sick to my stomach and having a panic attack! I had a panic attack! Sam finally told me to come here and tell you because he was worried about me. What the hell Y/n you had no right!”

“I had no right?” I sneered, venom dripping from my words.

His eyes narrowed. “You actually hurt me. You left me.”

My eyes watered. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Being left behind without an explanation or clue? To go from hot and in love to absolutely nothing? Hurts to worry and strain and hurt with no answers or clue. Sitting there to just WORRY. Bella Swan literally went comatose from it. I barely made it myself. I couldn’t even go to school for an entire week after you too me you never wanted to talk to me again. You didn’t even look at me, you just told me. No emotion, no recognition. Like I was nothing.”

He scrambled to defend himself but he was struggling as realization began to truly dawn on him. “I didn’t want to imprint on you! They said that I might, since we were like in love and stuff and I didn’t want to drag you into this world. I also didn’t want it to NOT be you. I was terrified, more than I was of imprinting on you, that I wouldn’t.”

Tears began falling down my face and his anger dissipated in favor of pain, worry, and guilt. “You promised you would never leave me, Em. That you would never hurt me. And then you left. And THEN you hurt me in every possible fucking way.” He looked away, his face contorting in severe pain. “I forgive you,” I whispered. “And my anger and immaturity got the best of me, I just... I wanted you to understand. Understand how much it hurt. I’m sorry, but... Em...” He looked at me again as my words were broken by my cries that had turned to sobs. “Please don’t do that again. Don’t hurt me again. I couldn’t survive it again.”

He rushed at me, pulling me into him and holding me tightly. “We’re even now,” he whispered. “You forgave me, so I can forgive you. We both fucked up, both with very good reasons for doing so.” He sighed. “I won’t ever hurt you again Y/n. Not like that. I promise for real this time. I won’t let anything come between us again.”

“What if you die?” I ask softly.

“That won’t be my fault,” he answers even more softly. “I promise I’ll try my hardest, though.”

I buried my face in his chest, clinging to his shirt. “I can be okay with that.”

We had a long way to go, but... maybe things could be okay now. We had each other, so there was always that.

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @chipster-21 @alexa-playafricabytoto

#embry call #kiowa gordon #wolf pack #red #taylor swift #part 3 #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #x reader #imagine #imagines #song prompt

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sushiobsessedwriter · 6 years

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He Thinks You Like Someone Else -Akatsuki

Pein: He'd been in his office all day, his head aching with each word written, so he'd sent you out on a mission so he wouldn't continue to wonder what you were doing without him, thus distracting him. The bright-haired man let out the longest sigh known in history and pushed his finished papers away. It took him twice as long to file them away as his mind kept drifting to you but his ears perked up when your laughter rang through the building. "Oh my Kami, Deidara," you laughed even louder, "I was NOT that bad." Deidara simply replied with a laugh of his own. Pein felt the vein in his forehead twitch at the sound of you two laughing together. It was only when the both of you came into the open doorway of his office did he take great exception. Deidara's arm was flung around your shoulder whilst your face was coloured red in a harsh blush. "Was the mission successful?" Pein asked through ground teeth. Both you and Deidara nodded and when the blonde sent you a wink you blushed harder and turned your stare to the floor. It was very soon after that when Pein dismissed you. He didn't know whether to feel dissapointed or simply sad that you liked Deidara. "Pein," he lifted his head at the sound of your voice, "surely you want more information?" Pein stared at you for a moment before returning his eyes to his paperwork. "I do not need the details of the going-ons between you and your romantic companion." You screwed your face up, 'romantic companion'?? What?? "Pein wh-" "You may leave," you didn't move, "NOW." You scurried out as fast as you could. Itachi: Itachi had been looking for you for hours. He wanted to talk to you about a new book release and wondered if you'd heard about it. Yet, when he finally did find you, his ideas of talking went out the window. There you were, book open on your lap and a drink in your hand, but you weren't reading. Tobi sat in front of you with his arms going wild. He was explaining why exactly lollipops were the best sweets and you sat there playfully arguing with him. Itachi felt his blood boil. You liked the over grown child? His anger faded quickly into sorrow. He never really had a chance if Tobi was your type, so he sullenly turned back around and trudged to his room. Kisame: You had decided to take a day trip to the beach, the sun streaming down on the two of you as you lay out your towels. You'd both wrangled a day off and you wanted to spend it relaxing with your favourite shark-man. At least, that's what you planned; Itachi and Zetsu also joined you. You weren't entirely sure WHY they joined you, but they did. It was later on in the day, after long hours of swimming that you flopped on the towel practically on top of Kisame. This caused a blush to cover his face but you were too tired to notice. That was the case until Itachi mentioned ice-cream. You sat up straight and grinned at the Uchiha but Kisame gripped the back of your t-shirt like a 4 year old. "Why don't you stay and relax with me, Y/N?" You stared at him contemplatively then said, "b-but ice-cream." Kisame's face dropped and you gazed between him and Itachi. The dark-haired man's hand was held out to you and you grabbed it hesitantly. After all, you had a plan that would cheer Kisame up when you get back. However, as you left with his partner, Kisame watched the two of you talking animatedly, you with a grin on your face which caused his heart to clench in his chest. Why, Itachi??

Hidan: You and Hidan fought a lot, and they were usually harmless fights, but lately they'd been getting more and more serious and he knew it was his fault (not that he'd tell you that). It was after a particularly big fight that you stormed to your room, tears in your eyes. Hidan hadn't followed you straight away as he let the rest of his frustration out on an unsuspecting tree. However, he did eventually go to find you, only to hear you talking to someone. "I-I don't know what to do, I think I-I-I'm in love with him." Hidan stopped in his tracks and felt his heart leap to his throat. You liked -no, loved- someone else. His fists clenched at his sides and he was 80% certain he was going to barge in there and demand answers, but when your light sobs filtered through the door, it only made him hurt more. Without another moment of hesitation, the Jashinist turned on his heel and left you to cry, his whole body aching. Why wasn't he goddamn good enough for you?! Kakuzu: You were a strange person for him to figure out. He often found himself wondering why you spent so much time with him. You were practically perfect to him: you had extensive knowledge in bounty hunting, you were quite cautious with your money and you hated Hidan as much as he did. Yet, he still couldn't help but think you deserved better company. Therefore, when he saw you explaining the art of bounty hunting to Zetsu he was surprised to find that he was SHOCKED at the sight. The scenario in front of him was exactly what he had been thinking for weeks yet, his stomach felt empty, his mouth dry. You were practically bouncing in your seat when Zetsu asked you a question, and before you could answer, you caught sight of Kakuzu. "Kakuzu, I think this question is better suited for you!" You waved him over but the stitched man shook his head and glared at the back of Zetsu's flytrap. "I believe your knowledge knows no bounds, Y/N." With that statement he walked past the two of you on the floor and out the door. You tilted your head puzzled but slowly began to answer Zetsu's question. Sasori: Sasori knew you sometimes got bored watching him work all the time, but he liked to think you enjoyed spending time with him. He certainly enjoyed your company, so when you stopped frequenting his workshop, he became not only worried, but suspicious. After the incident with Deidara, he couldn't help the thoughts of you two together running through his head. Emotions like this were the reason he got rid of them in the first place. "Kisame you cannot be serious?!?!" Your voice echoed down the corridor and Sasori felt more at ease. However, when you walked into his workshop, arm linked with Kisame's, his ceased to be at ease. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for either of you to say something. "I am here to escort the Lady back to her work space," Kisame proclaimed loudly. You giggled and unlinked your arm. You made your way over to your work space and sat down; you stared at the two men patiently. "I wasn't aware Y/N needed escorting around the hideout," he set a stony stare in your direction, "perhaps she is incapable of doing things by herself." You were shocked for a moment at Sasori's harsh tone but soon glared harshly at him. Neither of you said anything as Kisame inched his way out of the room. "You want to tell me what your problem is?" Sasori rolled his eyes. He couldn't possibly tell you his problem, you'll laugh or even worse, you'll pity him. It wasn't his fault that he fell for you, but why did you have to fall for Kisame? He suddenly felt numb but moved stiffly over to the puppet he was working on. "Sasori, answer me please." He continued to ignore you for the rest of the day. Deidara: Deidara is one of the biggest hot-heads in the world, so when he took you out to town to get supplies, you were waiting for him to cause a scene. Deidara needed more clay whilst you just fancied going shopping for a bit. You two split up to do your separate activities before meeting up for a drink. When Deidara walked into the coffee-shop to see you chatting to an extremely good looking male, he felt his switch flip. "What do you think you're doing, un?!" You whirled around to see Deidara glaring daggers at you. You held your hands up and tilted your head to the side in confusion. He stomped toward you and continued to glare. "We decide to meet up and you're flirting with every guy you see, un!" He knew in the back of his mind he was being irrational but he couldn't help the anger and defeat he was feeling. "Dei, what are you-" "If you just came with me to get laid then you can find your own way home, un." There he left you, baffled, upset, and with two cups of coffee in your hand with both your names scribbled on the side. Tobi: "Oh my gosh Tobi, look what i've got!" You glomped the orange masked man from behind and shoved a packet in his face. It was the newest sweets from your favourite company and they were amazing! So, you thought you'd share them with your fellow sweet-lover. "Y/N, Tobi loves these sweets, where did Y/N get them?" He was just as excited as you were which brought a large smile to your face. "I actually didn't get them," you stated as you sat next to him, "Pein bought them for me when he went into town." The grin remained on your face as you popped the aforementioned sweet in your mouth. You failed to notice the dark aura emitting from Tobi and held the bag out to him. He shook his head slowly and leaned toward you slightly. "So, you like Pein?" You nearly choked on the sweet as your eyes bugged out your head. Tobi's other personality came forward and decided to accuse you of something like that?!?! "N-no Tobi, I don't-" "Save your excuses until you can come up with a better one." Tobi stood, straightened out his cloak and cleared his throat. "Later Y/N!!" Normal Tobi was back... Zetsu: Zetsu was probably the most sensitive man you knew. His black side got riled up easily and his white side got nervous really easily, so, when you asked them if they wanted to go to one of the newer botanical gardens you got mixed reactions. "Why would we want to go there when here is perfectly fine??" "She just wants to spend time with us, let's go and see what it's like." "There's an ulterior motive, I can tell." You sighed and folded your arms across your chest as you listened to them argue. You really wanted to go and see the gardens and you thought it would be something Zetsu would really be up for, even his black side, but he was still untrusting of your actions sometimes so you shrugged, tried to convince them, then walked away when it didn't work. "Y-Y/N, where are you going?" He called out to you. "To see if anyone else wants to go!" You continued walking, not really caring at this point if the plant-man was following. He was worried though, if he continued to not spend a lot of time with you, would you stop trying? Would you find someone else to hang out with? Would he lose his chances with you?? Both sides started to panic, they couldn't lose you to someone else, they just couldn't!!

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If you like this then please buy me a coffee.

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lexiseigneur · 5 years

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Chapter thirteen: Home

The house was surprisingly luxurious and Lexi was certain a collaborator high in their hierarchy lived there. She perused the freezer and packed her cooler. The contents of the boxes and bags were not important, only that they were frozen. Blood needed to stay cold so she had burglarized occupied habitations often. With her new abilities, it was a trivial task.

The Dhampir’s body had finally settled. When she managed to catch her reflection in a mirror or in a window, she had noticed how scar-like patterns now adorned her throat. They were far less textured than those on Quinlan’s skin. Her hair had not fallen, it had grown at preposterous speed. The new growth was pure white but at least still wavy. Both her teeth and nails had turned dark, like his. Her central incisors had changed shape and now appeared very sharp.

After her encounter with Laura and Emily, Lexi had thought long and hard about the men she had murdered. Months prior she had questioned whether Quinlan’s mind lacked humanity and now she questioned whether she had lost too much of hers. Had she been human and only armed with a Beretta, would she have taken their lives? She swallowed with difficulty every time this question arose. Now that she could inflict death with the fleek of a hand, had she lost perspective? Without forgiving her actions, she told herself that she had prevented those men from hurting others in the future. Then slowly she came to terms with the fact that monsters did not contemplate the morality of their actions.

How long had it been since she had taken the road? More than two weeks for sure. Quinlan was constantly changing course, jumping from city to city without apparent goal. It was difficult to keep up. Sometimes she needed to plunge inside her head several times per hour to follow. Frustration was getting to her and so was thirst. Her blood reserves were quickly diminishing and she had started strictly rationing. Despite the constant ache in the back of her throat, she only drank what was needed to run.

What was Quinlan possibly doing? Slowly, she was getting closer but not fast enough. What if he found the Master and ended up killed because he was alone? Imagining that possibility always made her snarl.

Every time she retreated into that limitless space only populated by hers and Quinlan’s souls, she pondered its nature. She did not float in smooth blackness, but in the grainy grey, one saw in the total absence of light. Quinlan had told her about the mental link which shackled the Strigoi to the Master. It was the reason why he had always been so adamant about remaining hidden. The other Ancients also shared such connection with their progeny. Was this place a lesser version of that bond? The Master could see, hear and smell through his children but all she had was a drop of brightness hovering ahead. Still, she was grateful every time she spied it. It meant Quinlan was still alive.

A week later, she arrived on the outskirts of Sante Fe. In the basement of an empty house, she peered inside the cooler. A single bag of blood rested on top of useless melting items. Lexi chuckled, then as she emerged herself in the vastness, she laughed out loud. Quinlan’s beacon was there, so very near and completely still. Like her, he waited for the midday sun to falter. When the ochre light shone, she left her belongings behind and went to finally meet him anew.

Quinlan had given up on anything that made him part human. Violence was his days and his nights. Strigoi were chasing him again but this time, he very much wanted them to. The Dhampir was fed and completely healed. He could slice through them for hours at a time. Two weeks prior he had even removed the metal staples from his side and the scar would soon fade into nothing.

Tall buildings surrounded him and the streets echoed with the slashing of his sword. The twilight glow covered the cityscape with grey. Today it was only ten creatures and he knew that it would leave him thirsting for more. Lexi’s scent smacked his face every time the shirt he had tucked into his belt caught the wind. Loud cracks resonated unexpectedly. Gunfire. Quinlan braced himself for the pain of bullet impacts. It did not come. The Strigoi dropped one by one, each with a neat hole to the head.

The Dhampir stood alone surrounded by dead prey. His prey. The stinger rattled angrily and he glared around. A hooded figure on a nearby roof was lowering a gun. It turned and walked out of sight. This one had stolen his kills. Quinlan sped to the entrance door, punched it open and climbed the stairs all the way up in seconds. Irrational anger made him kick the door much harder than necessary. The metal panel flew, cleared the roof and landed noisily in the street below. The thief was leaning on the brick wall and looking at the still skittering object. He was not even paying attention. No…she. The thief was a woman. Her smell made him rumble with hatred. Strigoi tang. Was that one of the Master’s minions toying with him?

“Where is your Master, you vile creature?” He asked and advanced with his arms wide.

He would enjoy killing it very slowly. Those special ones, who got to keep their cursed consciousness, he despised them. Quinlan sheathed his bone-hilted weapon and wound his muscles for an explosive burst of power. Breaking the thing’s legs seemed like the best way to start. He sprang and the new prey did the same. Quinlan was blindsided by its speed. It whirled past him and as it did, something tugged at his belt. No! It now stood by the door frame, holding the shirt to its face and stealing the precious perfume.

“That is mine!” Quinlan snarled.

The thing raised a finger and moved it from left to right as if correcting a child.

“No. It’s very much mine.”

The voice was low and velvety. That voice was warmth and the highlight of his dreams. His heart broke, for this was Lexi’s corrupted body. The Master had found her and in his exquisite talent for sadism, had kept enough of her intact to hurt him deeper than ever before. She removed her hood and the Dhampir’s jaw dropped open. Dark waves brushed her shoulders but turned white under her ears as if only bleached at the roots. Awfully familiar stripes marked her pale face. But her eyes as she walked closer, her eyes were still of this strange color between green and brown. Nothing made sense. This visage was not Strigoi, it looked like his. Despite his confusion and overwhelming distress, as she stepped closer and closer all he could think was: I am home.

“No, it’s very much mine.” Said Lexi.

Why was Quinlan carrying her former smell across the country? Was he luring the Master away from the compound? She swallowed with difficulty, grateful for his effort but still resenting him for his actions. His face had changed from smugness to unbearable pain. Of course, she should have expected as much. Lexi lowered her hood so that he could see her face. Do you see, my Quinlan? Dhampir, not Strigoi. He had seen and now his mouth hung open and he was shaking his head. With each step, she walked deeper into the glow of his soul. Their lights touched and mixed. At that contact, she inhaled deeply. It was stepping into a hot bath after a cold winter day. It was crossing the threshold of her house after a long work trip. It was falling asleep in Quinlan’s arms after they had made love. It was belonging. Home. His eyes shut and he cocked his head. He could feel it too.

“How?” He breathed.

Quinlan dropped to his knees. She stepped between his outstretched arms and held his face against her chest. The powerful arms squeezed her waist. One day, she would make him pay for his mistakes but not today. Under her fingers, his skin no longer felt feverish. Neither did his lips when she kissed him. His hold tightened and before her change, it would have hurt but not anymore.

“We have to go. Follow me.”

More Strigoi would eventually come. His grip did not loosen. With a heavy heart, she peeled him off. When he stood, his eyes were glassy and his brow furrowed. Lexi kissed him again, a light peck, then sprinted away. Just outside the city limits, in the suburbs, she led him where she had spent the previous midday. During their short trip, she had to wait for him to catch up several times. With a musical giggle, she realized that she was slightly faster than him. As she peered ahead, her eyes identifying the next spot for her feet to strike, the vastness in her mind pulled at her focus. There was something else in that bond. Something not yet unlocked. Her concentration shifted to it and she stumbled. Quinlan managed to catch her and she slammed against his chest. Laughter boomed out of his throat.

“You need practice.”

Considering the novelty of her abilities, this was an understatement. But at that moment she did not care, they were seconds away from shelter. The thing in the limitless space was becoming uncomfortable and she wanted to explore it without being so exposed. Lexi grabbed his hand and guided him through the last street, inside the house and down in the windowless basement. There, she collapsed on the large couch where a family had once enjoyed movie nights. A huge flat television screen covered most of the wall opposite the staircase. That closed part of the Bond was wrong. Unnatural. It could not be. Vaguely, she felt Quinlan sitting next to her and talking. But she was floating in her own mind, in the warmth of his soul. She reached and it pushed back. That was driving her to the edge of insanity. It was akin to observing a pencil roll off a table only to shoot up to the ceiling instead of dropping to the floor. Non-sensical and disturbing. Mentally, she retreated, as if giving herself space to jump. With all her might, she charged at the cocoon of light. The shock of the impact against that rock-solid resistance snapped her back to reality. Quinlan was holding his forehead and breathing heavily.

“Why are you blocking me?” She whimpered.

The wrongness was his doing because when she touched him, he rejected the contact. He took her shaking hands and pressed his brow against hers.

“I had not comprehended it was you until now. Only the Ancients and the Master had ever contacted me in that way.”

Lexi was floating in the dark pool again. She reached for his soul. They connected into a flash of heat which sent a ripple of contentment through her body.

“I am so sorry, Lexi.”

She grinned. The voice was his, but devoid of any Strigoi rumbling. The unspoken words rang clearly inside the Bond. Her smile widened at imagining the panic her former self might have experienced at hearing another voice in her mind.

“I can hear you.” She thought.

Quinlan kissed her and buried his face against her neck. It tickled the very sensitive skin.

“What happened? How did you change?”

Memories rose in the vastness and she let them flow to him. Images flashed in quick succession and she imbued them with meaning as she passed them along. The jar of bullets containing his blood rolled between her fingers. Desiccated Strigoi remains and their revived parasites floated in a jar. Tubes rotated inside a small device. She sliced at her own flesh.

Quinlan winced.

The tests had brought her the answers. Lexi sobbed at leaving her human life behind when she infected herself. Lexi was BURNING.

Quinlan chocked and griped at his own throat.

“Why would you do such a thing?” He whispered through clenched teeth.

The luminous bond was still there and she poured more of herself in it. White blood and saline spread on the floor just outside the elevator. Wet footprints led away from it and she turned around to follow them. Quinlan’s own face, cold with determination and the prick of the needle. Lexi fought furiously against the familiar helplessness. It was a betrayal. The Dhampir’s face was overwhelmed with sadness as she opened the dark room in her mind. Lexi took everything, her rage, her love, her heartbreak, and pushed it all away. Then she made a calculated assessment. Her fingers found the recent wound and inflicted agony. The pain in her neck turned intense and her muscles went limp. Through all of it, the cursed vulnerability and the desire for strength.

Quinlan’s body was shaking.

The plan they had devised was coming to a close. She imagined finishing the mission. As equals. No longer dominated by fear and no longer dominated by Quinlan. No more helplessness. Ever.

“Do you hate me?” He thought.

“No. But I did.”

It was unkind but in the Bond, there could be no lying or half-truths. Her companion pulled away from her and clutched at his chest. Quinlan’s anguish was torture. She had no desire to hurt him any longer. Lexi fumbled for another recollection and gifted it to her dear one.

Quinlan stood in dimness. It was impossible to make out his face especially through her tears. Warm fingers wiped away the wetness on her face. Not in a practical manner, but with tenderness. It was affection and Lexi’s heart was swelling with hope. As he brushed his lips against hers, she still doubted what it meant. Desperate for confirmation, she took a leap of faith and was rewarded with joy.

Quinlan relaxed. As they basked in the softness of that memory, a low purr emanated from both of them.

The Dhampir could see through the very eyes of his beloved. The sensations, the feelings and even his own taste on her tongue took over his senses. Spoken words now appeared so archaic. Limitations of another era that he wanted to shed like an old skin.

“I want you.” Quinlan thought.

Lust demanded, more akin to a need than a desire. Lexi held him tighter but her worry tasted bitter in his soul.

“What if you end up disliking that new body?”

“Never.”

That sharing of thought did not allow for deception and he relished that openness. Quinlan explored her and marveled at the changes. Lexi’s perfume was similar to the lemon jam she used to make. Relief washed through his entire body because as he breathed in the scent of her skin, the thirst did not come. For the first time since his first clumsy and frustrating embrace two millennia prior, he did not fear hurting the other. White fingers dug into equally white flesh without harming. Self-consciousness at his Strigoi voice was futile as she also made no effort to stifle her own. Neither shied from what appeared natural. The small claws of her stinger dug into his shoulder and it felt right.

“Yes. I am yours.” He told her.

The inhuman snarls of her release scratched at something deep in him. She pressed herself tightly against his body and his last rational thoughts vanished. He found himself on all fours, her back writhing against his chest. Their fingers were intertwined but it was insufficient. As he pressed his brow on her head, his stinger closed around the delicate nape. Lexi shuddered in delight.

“MINE.” Quinlan roared in his head.

He moved harder than he had ever done before during those passionate moments. The liberation felt like gleefully going insane. Pleasure coursed through his body and through that bridge between their souls. Nothing else compared to that bliss.

Quinlan wanted to stay in that basement forever. He was content for his world to be limited to Lexi’s body and mind. Missing her had been a constant weight that he had dragged through the country. Her change and the resulting Bond it had created between them had been blessings he did not think he deserved.

“Why is your hair that way?” He asked.

“It did not fall, it just grew colorless. It grew very fast.”

Their metabolisms ran high and that seemed to include hair growth. As strange as it was that she still possessed such an attribute.

“Your eyes, your stinger. They are different.” He continued.

“Yes. I do not know if it is because I am a woman...”

Knowledge of sexual dimorphism and various examples of birds and fish accompanied her unspoken words. Quinlan cringed. Memories were warmed with feelings but those facts were cool and sharp. It was bizarre to be imbued with insights without earning them.

“Or because I am not like you. I am not Born.”

“No…you are Reborn.”

Lexi grinned, amused by that expression. Power had been thrust upon him accidentally just before his birth. His beloved had reached bravely for that power and taken it. Quinlan prided himself that such a woman would love him.

“Have you ever experienced this thing… the Bond?” She asked.

“No, I have not. I never knew that such coupling was possible. The Ancients and the Master would speak directly in my mind but only if I allowed it. Very young I learned how to close off that sense at the attempted Master’s intrusions.”

“Isn’t our bond what Strigoi share with the Master?”

“Their link and ours is, I believe, fundamentally different.” Quinlan shared.

Hungry for her, he was detailing every feature of her face. He traced the stripes, marveling at the myriad of shades hiding within them. The new earrings he also quite enjoyed because they highlighted the graceful shape of her ears.

“How so?”

“Their bond is a prison, ours is a home.”

Her gaze drifted in deep thought and she slowly nodded. Shallow swirls rested above her collarbones and he caressed them as well. Lexi shuddered and quickly took his hand away.

“Are yours also that sensitive?” She asked.

“Excessively.”

She smiled. Quinlan wanted to kiss her again but she pressed a finger across his mouth to stop him.

“We have work to do, my Quinlan.”

But he did not want to think about it. In fact, so far he had successfully managed to push all those problems away. Her words had sprung a revolting realization forward. Quinlan held her tight and whimpered into her hair. What complete fool he had been at rejoicing at her transformation. So deluded.

“Quinlan?”

His heartbeat was ringing in his ears. When she held his face and he saw the familiar stripes on her skin, he grimaced. Quinlan chose memories and arranged them anxiously so she would comprehend his distress. The Master had to die. There could remain no way for him to rise again and she had given him the solution as he made the silver coffin. When the small metal box enclosing the crimson worm exploded in an inferno of molten rock, the Master would be destroyed just like the Ancients had been. Connected by his blood, his progeny would follow including Quinlan and…

“Me. I understand.” She said very weakly.

The Dhampir buried his face against her chest because he did not want to lose this. He did not want her to perish. The cruelty of finding true belonging, only to have it taken away was tearing him apart. Quinlan was no longer ready to die. Lexi’s fortitude was the only thing keeping him from giving up. The mental embrace forced him to stand up and do his duty.

#quinlan #mr.quinlan #the strain #the strain fx #the strain fanfic #the strain fanfiction #quintus sertorius

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skywailer · 6 years

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for @ofserien

For there to be shadow, there must be light.

Ben reminds himself of this, as the darkness creeps in from the corners of his mind, always whispering, and sprawls across the dormitory he must now call home. It is a solitary and sleepless one, despite his uncle’s best efforts. He lies on a cot not yet accustomed to his size and shape; lies on a pillow not yet accustomed to the night terrors weighing down his mind. He lies to himself- repeating the mantra that for every night, there is a morning. For every shadow, a ray of light.

Sometimes the lie he wishes comes, fleetingly, true. Ben has seen it, as one sees a shooting star- a flaring beacon in the dark, trailing the faintest shimmer of hope behind it. And always, he seizes it before it fades into nothing, clinging onto the finest of lifelines. He holds it, feeling the hum of energy burning up between his fingers. Until it’s a pulse, beating. Until he has stared so long at it, that his eyes have soaked in all the light and caught the evanescent image of a girl. Just before she fades from view.

It is the same girl each time he catches the light: a small, skinny creature with windblown hair and freckle-dusted skin. She comes to him uninvited, unexpected, and a welcomed vision of respite in the spaces between shadows. Through shrouded thought, she pushes through until the whispering darkness is muted to make room for her. Every time. He turns his head, captures the afterimage of her running down the corridor of the Falcon. Or chances a rare glance up from his plate to spot her at the opposite end of the dinner table, eyes wide and peeking at him past servings. Always, she is smiling. Always, it is a moment of quiet- of a peace he has never known before. Always, gone before it’s ever really there.

Tonight, it is different.

There is the tug of a lifeline, the hum of a heartbeat- as desperate and lonely as his. At first, he thinks it is another vision- one from the dark luring him in.

Someone is crying.

Immediately, Ben turns and sits up in bed, the swift and sudden motion making something jump in the corner of his room. From the origin of the crying, and the tugging.

He squints, and makes out the familiar shape of the girl, still as small and skinny as ever. Heartbeat rapidly tapping his chest through the Force.

She is a frightened child.

Ben is immediately conscious of his size and bows his spine, keeps his hands lax on the edge of his bed. Tries to soften his voice when he speaks, “it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

She breathes in panicked gasps, the lifeline between them whipping violent waves. Yet for all that energy, her eyes have heavy shadows beneath them and there is exhaustion spreading red towards her darkened irises. She needs sleep.

Instead, she stands and searches. “Have you seen them? Have you seen them?” She asks frantically. He feels it- the choking anxiety of loss and abandonment as though it were his own; it is close enough, raw enough, similar enough to confuse for his own.

Ben clenches his jaw against irrational anger, tries to approach this reasonably, calmly. As he has been trained. He takes a deep breath and asks, “where are you?”

Her tears test his training severely, and for a moment Ben suspects this is all an elaborate test orchestrated by Luke. Or by another, distant teacher to expose and torment him. But she’s exactly as he’s seen her all the times before, slightly taller with age and sad, but the feeling is the same. His mind is quiet of any disturbances, any vicious hisses and violent images. His anger, present still, is a focused glint rather than scattered, shattered glass.

When she doesn’t answer, he remembers the tender voice his parents used whenever fear had him screaming in the dark. He tries it, and asks again, “where are you?”

“I don’t know,” the girl sobs, pacing. Her light is catatonic, energy pulsating off her in blinding surges. Reaching out.

“I’m alone.”

His anger fractures, threatening to break everything. He closes his eyes, and focuses on the soft red and yellow light dancing off his eyelids, focuses on the way air fills his lungs, his chest, and pushes out the darkness on the exhale.

“You’re not alone,” he reassures her on that same exhale. When he opens his eyes, she is stilled. Her hummingbird heartbeat coming to a rest, finally. But she is standing on shaking legs. “You should get in bed.”

She blinks, confused. “What bed?”

Ben grips the steel of his cot tight enough to crush it, yet still it is better than the instinct that runs like bulls in his veins- to rush at whoever has put this child in such a state, frail with hunger and neglect. As deserved as his persecution feels, the sight of it would terrify her.

Sight. He lingers on that thought, and peers around her. Trying to gauge through the Force her surroundings. Idly, he wonders, “can you see my bed?”

The girl squints, confusion and wonder blasting them wide open. She nods. Without hesitation, he gets up; she shrinks away. He immediately reprimands himself, flinching, before slowly, carefully raising his hands as a signal of peace. ““No, no, it’s alright.” Gradually, he sinks to the floor, sitting down beside the bed-stand. Now she doesn’t have to crane her neck, or fear his shadow.

He uses one of his raised hands to gently wave her over. “Come here. Lie down.”

She looks from him to the bed for a second, like a small wild animal unsure of a trap or refuge. It is an instinct that will help her survive, he thinks and it’s a forlorn thought that tightens around his throat and stings his eyes. Her next instinct, to leap and trust, he worries will be the end of her. Ben tries not to torment himself over it, tries to focus on the imminent task: getting her to sleep.

When he asks- no orders her to do so, she says, “I can’t.” She whispers it like a terrible secret, one she’s been keeping for a while. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Ben softens at that, leans his head against the bed frame, and smiles. At her lightness, at how impossible it would be for the dark to take her as she so fears. “Don’t be,” he says. “You’re safe.”

Still, the girl lies curled up and rigid on the bed, refusing to close her eyes. They are unblinking and bolted to his.

A feeling, a fear of loneliness too palpable for a child her age tides through him, and he has to hold on for dear life to the smile he keeps in place solely for her. For her to hold onto, in turn.

“I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning,” Ben says quietly, his words and voice a soft lullaby for her to drift into. Her eyelids are heavy, but she waits until he says: “I promise.”

She closes her eyes, and Ben listens as her breathing goes from suffocating to staggering, to sleeping. Her small frame sinking into cushion, and mind floating into dream.

Unknowingly, Ben does the same. For the first time, he sleeps peacefully.

When he wakes, however, his back is sore and there is a tight, anxious thought in the back of his head. Of something stolen from him in the night, of his lifeline cut. By unseen, clawed hands. The darkness he is so accustomed to, to its whispering, now screams.

Agonized, Ben desperately looks to his bed- but the girl is gone. So he repeats his mantra- for every night, there is a morning and for every shadow, a ray of light. But his ray of light is gone. It does not return. So, over time, he forgets the mantra. He forgets the girl.

He remembers only darkness.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo;fanfiction #when someone requests a fluff prompt but also asks for it to hurt #haaaaah ok

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jungcock · 7 years

Text

ride or die (m.)

part of the bts road trip au collab

Jungkook was a terrible boyfriend, always abandoning you on the side of the road midst your many road trips. Thankfully, you had Namjoon to come pick you up every time he did and it was about time you reward him for it.

→ pairing: reader x namjoon (feat. jungkook)

→ word count: 6.9k

→ genre: childhood friends au, smut, angst

→ warnings & a/n: drug abuse, infidelity, daddy kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk. contains very dark themes, please read with caution.

You had no idea where you were. You hardly ever did, but it always began like this; crouched in a phone booth you were sure no one had used in decades. It wasn't unusual for you to find yourself in this sort of situation, stranded in a desolate town, miles away from home.

A rebel without a cause, he would call you. However you knew you didn't match the James Dean aesthetic and it made you feel pathetic more than anything. You would never live up to such a statement or feel as complimented or honoured as he believed his comparison deemed.

You were going to call him. You always did, despite the initial hesitance. Deep down, you knew you weren't fair to him. You knew you were using him. But what other choice did you have when your drug fucked boyfriend would insist on adventure, taking you on these road trips and then forgetting you in his high.

He always understood. It eased your mind and made you trust him and you didn't just trust anyone. That wave of relief when you'd hear his deep voice mumble words of reassurance, informing you he was on his way, was euphoric to your intoxicated state. You craved it every time. It was almost as addicting as the drugs, your toxic relationship and your need for thrill.

Staring at your lit up screen, you found his number and dialed.

“____?” He answered within the first few rings.

“Joonie,” you croaked.

He sighed. “Where are you?”

“Two towns further from the last time,” you managed to explain, smacking your lips together from the dry mouth.

“____, that's at least three hours away!”

He was shuffling around, you could hear it through the phone as soft crackling noises.

“I know.”

He sighed again and you heard his keys rattling.

“Are you coming?” You asked, however you really didn't need to.

“Stay where you are.”

Waiting for Namjoon felt like an eternity. You tortured yourself, watching every car zoom past you. Little lost girl on the side of the road. It was always within the first hour your high morphed into paranoia. Everyone was looking, judging, pitying you and you loathed the irrational feeling.

It was around the second hour you began hoping Jungkook would come back for you. You knew he wouldn't but you couldn't help but wish. It was beyond fucked up but you'd never give up on him. Forgiving his unacceptable “I'm sorry babe, I was so fucked,” every time, proved how deeply codependent you were. He had your entire heart. He owned you and you let him.

The third hour the sun began to set and you could spot Namjoon’s truck emerging from the orange and yellow horizon. Rising from your haunches, you had to shield your eyes from the vibrant descending sun. The relief overwhelmed you, your heart swelled for him and you hadn't even seen his face yet. You hopped into the passenger's seat and he didn't even look at you, turning the car around.

"Thank you," you mumbled to him.

He grumbled deeply, more so in acknowledgment rather than complaint. He was stiff and still refused to spare you a glance. However you stared him down, drinking in his movements or lack thereof, unafraid and unwaveringly appreciative.

"You're fucked," he stated, his voice deep and stern.

He didn't need to look at you to know for sure.

You snickered darkly, "When am I not?"

Your self-loathing was rooted deep. Namjoon knew that and he used it to hurt you when you did this to him. And you just sat there, taking it because receiving a little sass from Namjoon was much easier than facing your problems. You'd let him lecture you all day and night if it meant he'd come for you every time you asked - which was unofficially the deal.

"This is the third time this week, ____. It's not healthy."

He was talking about the drugs and the stunts you pulled with Jungkook that would lead you here, in Namjoon's truck that drove the how many hours it took so you were back in your own bed. Little did he know, it was many more than three times this week. You would never tell him about the days spent in Jungkook's apartment, blazed on the couch, raiding his fridge and the hours upon hours of lazy fucking. Despite him being your best friend since birth, you couldn't bare the thought of him knowing how disgusting you truly were, or how you felt you were.

"I know," you grumbled, leaning your head against the window.

Only then did he take his eyes off the road, softening at your little body curled up in your seat. He reached over to push your hair out of your face. You were shaking, the come down not treating you kindly.

"____!" Namjoon snapped at you when you seemed unresponsive.

"Joonie!" You replied with a giggle, eyes sunken and body mildly convulsing.

His jaw clenched at the sight of your smiling face juxtaposed with your rundown state and his attention returned to the road. He'd never get used to seeing you like this. It made his heart ache. Over the years since you had met Jungkook, your eyes had gotten darker and your limbs skinnier. He would have sworn you were withering away into nothing if he didn't touch you every now and then, a delicate caress of your matted hair, a light poke to your protruding rib cage, just to ensure you were still living and breathing. He begged and cried for the glowing girl he'd tuck under his arm in high school, for the chubby but happy girl he teased in middle school and for the kind outspoken girl he'd play with in primary school. Those memories of you is what he held onto, why he stuck around and let you control his life. You had a whole 22 years together and he couldn't just let that go.

An hour went by, Namjoon half concentrating on the road and the other half on your breathing. He was still letting his mind run wild with memories. Your first day of school together. The bike rides to convenience stores where you’d both spend most of your pocket money on lollipops and gum. The couple of years through middle school when you were neighbours. Your first boyfriend. His first girlfriend. The terrible double date that got you both dumped. The many summers spent in his treehouse, in your pool and then that particular summer-

"Do you remember that summer our parents took us camping?" You asked him, reciting his thoughts through clattering teeth.

He nodded meekly, he hated the way you could always read his mind.

"Our mothers insisted on hiring a caravan for all of us. It was so over crowded and hot and all we did was fight and scream at each other," you reminisced. "Look at us now."

"I remember," he said flatly.

"Sometimes I think I can still feel all the those Chinese burns you gave me."

Taking this trip down memory lane, prompted his eyes to water. You always had to feed him these moments of hope, that the girl he loved so unconditionally was still there, deep down. He almost resented you for it.

"No, that's the drugs ____," he deadpanned.

You laughed, "Yeah you're probably right."

And drug fucked ____ was back. His sweet girl came and went in a flash. You shouldn't have been like this, you had such an amazing future ahead of you. And that's what made his heart the saddest, remembering what you could have been, what you should have been.

"When is this gonna end, ____?" He asked you, defeat in his tone.

You frowned. "I don't know Namjoon."

"What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?!" You rebutted.

Sure, you didn't mind him lecturing you about how bad the drugs and your lifestyle were but you couldn't handle him questioning you, pushing recovery, pushing rehabilitation. Especially when you just smoked two joints and popped a small handful of pills. You had told him time and time again not to do this, not when the high was the only thing that made sense to you, not when the high felt like your entire world and you were nothing without it.

"This isn't you, this is what Jungkook made you! LEAVE HIM, ____! HE'S A FUCKING LOSER!"

His was face strained red, veins bulging from his neck, fists clutched against the steering wheel, foot slamming on the accelerator. He had finally lost it.

"Shut up," you snapped, still relatively calm despite steadily rocking to and fro.

"No! I am fucking done, ____. Do you know what it's like seeing you like this, huh?!" He continued to spit, eyes doubling in size from rage. "My heart breaks, it fucking shatters while I have to sit back and watch him kill you!"

You screamed, a deafening wail that drowned out the radio and truck's engine. It was way too much. Namjoon hadn't raised his voice at you since you broke his iPod in 7th grade. He'd never driven this fast with you in the car. And you were high. It was all way too much.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

He swerved off the road so fast your frail body flung against the door. He parked on the cliff side under a tree, however you didn't notice the view. You were too busy hyperventilating, pulling at your hair and grunting in distress.

“You don’t understand,” you choked out.

“Then help me,” he pleaded.

“I can’t-” you snivelled, “I can’t just give up on him, Joon. I love him.”

He let out a long sigh and twisted his tight grip on the steering wheel to keep his anger satiated. How could you love someone who ruined your life? Who caused you to lose all sense of yourself? Namjoon couldn’t understand. He had to get through to you, now that you were finally talking about it. Unbuckling his seat belt, he shifted towards you and grabbed your bony hands with his large warm ones.

“Don’t you see that he’s doing to you? The damage he’s already done?” He pried softly.

“That’s the thing Namjoon! It’s not about me anymore,” you rebutted, shaking his hands in emphasis. “He’s the only one that matters, the person I care about more than I care about myself.”

“How can you say that?” He snapped, retracting his grip. “You have so many people that love you and want you back.”

You scoffed. “Who? You and who? My mum? My dad? My family? I haven’t heard from them in years, Namjoon. They don’t give a fuck about me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” he argued unconvincingly.

You gave him a look.

“Ok maybe it’s a little true, but only because you dropped everyone for that drug fucked Jeon asshole,” he paused, “I could never do that.”

Ouch. The best thing about your friendship with Namjoon and why you cherished it so greatly was because he never judged you. You trusted him enough to be vulnerable and tell him things you hadn’t told anyone else because he never judged you. And for him to actually do so felt gross and foreign. You really didn’t like it.

You chuckled darkly, brushing off the hurt of his words. “You already have, moron.”

He shook his head and gave you a confused look. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You avoided his eye the best you could, however it was hard with his gaze locked on you. You sighed. You had been dreading this conversation for years.

“I know you’re in love with me, Joonie,” you said softly, making his whole body stiffen.

"Don't-" he muttered.

“And look what you’re doing? I know you haven’t seen your family and friends in months. The only time you leave your apartment is when you come and get me. What's the difference between what I do for Jungkook and what you do for me?”

"You're wrong," he deadpanned unable to think straight after your pretty mouth uttered what he wished would never be spoken.

"Namjoon please, I know," you tried to soothe him. "Hoseok worries about you, he texts me every time you don't pick up the phone or answer the door. But you do for me, don't you? You don't even hesitate. You'll come running if I asked you, but you ignore everyone else. Don't you think that's just as unhealthy as what I have with Jungkook?"

"Hold the fuck up!" He snapped at you, upset at the way the tables turned and embarrassed you knew about his feelings for you all along. "I'm not the one with the fucking drug addiction!"

You frowned at him, that was clearly not the point you were trying to make.

You sighed, "I was just trying to explain, giving up Jungkook would be like you giving me up."

Namjoon just stared at you, perplexed by how you made complete sense. He would never be able to give you up. The thought left the most sour taste in his mouth and made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. However he was not going to let you know that. He would sell his soul if it meant you’d drop the drugs and Jeon Jungkook.

"First of all I'm not bad for you so no, it's not as unhealthy as what you have with Jungkook and secondly, you're my best friend ____, of course I'm going to jump and run if you need me."

You hated the way he always spat his name. One man you loved speaking the other man you loved's name with such disdain was upsetting to say the least. The love you felt for both men so big and so strong and unparalleled to anything you've felt before. And yet, each man couldn't understand what you felt for the other. It made you want to pull your hair out. No wonder you were so fucked up.

And to further prove that statement, you changed your tone sultry, determined to coax him out of his denial. "What else would you do for me, Joon?"

"Anything," he muttered, unable to look at you.

"Yeah? And what would you want me to do for you?" You continued suggestively, reaching out to touch him.

He ignored the goosebumps caused by the way you ran your fingers through his hair and cupped his neck. "We just went through this," he answered stiffly refusing to give you the satisfaction of a reaction.

You chuckled. "You know what I think?"

"Don't-"

Namjoon knew where you were going with this. He could always trust you to push the boundaries, leaving no topic unspoken. He could always trust you to turn any serious or heavy vibe into a weirdly sexual vibe. He hated it when you did this.

"I think, all the times you've had to drive me home you'd fantasize about me just leaning over and sucking your cock in gratitude. And all the times you'd come pick me up from whatever motel Jungkook left me at, you'd picture me sprawled out on the bed, naked, and touching myself waiting for you to come fuck me. I see the way you look at me, Namjoon, you’re not very subtle."

The way he was looking at you now was a look of horror and mortification. It was undeniably amusing to you and your hand traveled down his arm to land on his inner thigh. He was quick to grab it but you swore you could feel the tip of something hard.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He yelled at you, squeezing your hand hard.

His grip was painful, his stare was shame evoking but you were just too high to care. In one fast manoeuvre, you climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Only then he let your hand go, refusing to touch you or even look at you, refusing to encourage your bold actions.

"Isn't this what you want? Daddy?" You teased.

He was looking at the ceiling. You watched his adam's apple bob up and down and heard something close to a groan rumble in his throat. He told you once over way too many bottles of soju about his daddy kink. You squealed and teased and then swore you'd never bring it up again. Now here you were, sitting in his lap and using it against him. It never sounded so sexy coming from your lips and he was fighting you so hard it was tearing him apart.

"Stop," he tried to command although it came out shaky.

"Let me make you feel good," you whispered into his ear before peppering kisses down his exposed neck.

Namjoon had felt your lips before. After a few drinks, you'd always beg him for little pecks in which he'd happily oblige. Briefly meeting your pursed lips with his own multiple times throughout those drunk nights, earned your giggles and 'I love you’s' and it'd fill him with nothing but joy. However that platonic gesture was no match to how your kisses were making him feel now. They were hot and sensual, your tongue peeking out to dip in his clavicle. His breathing was becoming erratic, his heart was pounding in his chest. He never knew it could feel so good to have a little body in his lap, marking his skin and telling him his pleasure was the focus. But it was you, and it wasn't just joy flooding his emotions this time, it was desire, lust and he'd never felt it so strong in his whole life.

Then your hands were on his face, forcing him to look at you. And he wished he could die, right then and there. Because dying would be more bearable than rejecting you, which he had to do. You were high. He loved you too much to go any further with you in this state.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," you told him.

And he did nothing but let you, his morals chucked right out the car window. As much as he knew and wanted this to stop, he was just an absolute fucking sap for you. The temptation of you too strong. Just a little taste, just once, quick and chaste and he’d be satiated.

You kissed him like a lover, moulding your lips together in a way you only did with Jungkook. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. You pushed your tongue into his mouth and he groaned and it only made you grip his hair tighter, squeeze your thighs harder. He still hadn’t touched you and you were in awe of his self control. You were already a needy hot mess in his lap. The love you already felt for him igniting something inside you, making you feel as if you were on fire. You finally pulled away with a bite of his bottom lip and pecked his open mouth a few times after that. The kiss left you in a state of euphoria, admittedly your high enhancing your emotions. However, the unmistakable notion of how right it felt had you sighing in satisfaction and resting your forehead against his.

“If you don’t get the fuck off of me right now, I’ll drive us off this cliff I swear to god.”

The pang to your heart was undeniable. You leaned back against the steering wheel and frowned at him, unable to mask the embarrassment of rejection. He couldn’t meet your eyes. However he could undoubtedly feel your stare and the hurt behind it and it made him soften. He sighed and gently tapped the top of your thighs.

“Please, just get off me ____,” he murmured.

When he finally looked up at you, you could see it. His pupils were blown, the pain of restraint clear in his eyes, as clear as the darkness in them. And you knew, he wasn’t being honest, there was no way a man could look that lust crazed and mean it when he tells the love of his life to stop touching him. With this determination, you shimmied yourself closer to him and grinded against his crotch. An involuntary groan escaped his lips at the pressure and you smiled knowingly. He was rock hard.

“Joonie, you can’t resist me,” you cooed.

You grinded down again and Namjoon’s eyes doubled in size, unable to deny you. You created a steady rhythm, circling your hips and working his restrained member until you both were whimpering. He felt delicious against your clothed core, his boner pushing his jean zipper against you perfectly. Soon you were moaning shamelessly, basking in the friction against your little sensitive bud. Namjoon had never seen anything so sexy. You working him as if he wasn’t even there, caught up in your own pleasure, using him.

“You’re fucking evil,” he growled into your neck, your head thrown back in pleasure.

You acknowledged that comment with a chuckle before connecting your lips again. This time Namjoon didn’t hold back and you smirked through the kiss. You really didn’t have to try very hard to break him. He was putty in your hands. And soon, his hands were on your hips controlling your movements, up and down his clothed cock, focused on what felt good for him. He let you have your fun.

“How am I evil for giving you what you want huh?” You teased him, knowing he was incapable of answering you, focused on your hips moving against his. “How do you like it, daddy?”

Goosebumps formed on his skin as that word slipped from your lips. The look he gave you was primal, something you’ve never seen in him, something you had only seen in Jungkook. He looked as if he was about to devour you whole. And fuck, you’d let him if he’d let you ride his cock. You were so wet, your panties were soaking and if Namjoon released his grip on your hips there would be a wet stain on his zipper clear as day. The grinding was getting faster and harder and Namjoon’s grunts were getting louder. You were fast to catch on.

“Wait!”

With a defeated groan he stopped, his approaching orgasm slipping away.

“Were you trying to cum in your pants, Joonie? Because that’s not fair,” you tutted before reaching down and undoing his buckle.

Namjoon covered his face in shame. He shouldn’t have listened to you and kept going until he blew his load. He should have stopped you from reaching your little hand down his pants and palming his pulsing cock. But he couldn’t, no matter how wrong it was, he just couldn’t. He had been wanting this ever since he knew how to touch himself and he it did to the thought of you. It had always been you.

When you finally pulled it out, he let out a groan of relief. And your eyes bulged at it. You had suspected him to be big but you never imagined to this extent. He was thick and pulsing, veins leading up to his red tip that leaked pre-cum. You didn’t even notice yourself licking your lips at the sight, but Namjoon did.

“So pretty,” you awed, giving him a few soft pumps. “Can I sit on it?”

He swallowed, staring into your doe eyes. His thoughts were screaming yes but his throat was dry. This was it. His last chance to stop this and go back to how things were and not fucking you up even more. He almost had the strength to question you until you let go of his cock and it slapped against his stomach, coaxing a giggle out of you, like it was your fucking toy. Something snapped within him. You reached for it again but he slapped your hand away and before you could protest his hand was in between your thighs.

“Ah fuck!”

Namjoon’s fingers found your lace covered swollen bud in record time, rubbing circles and making you mewl. You were so close to coming and his movements were hurdling you to the edge fast. But he knew better, removing his hand from your core when you needed it most. You couldn’t control your whines. You attempted to grind into his palm but he just wouldn’t let you.

“You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you?” He taunted you, softly tapping your clit. “So wet and willing for me. For a man that isn’t your boyfriend?”

The look in your eyes gave him chills. Your eyes dark and crazed for him, not Jungkook. You wanted him, not Jungkook. He was relishing.

“Shut up and fuck me- AH!”

Without warning, Namjoon pushed your panties to the side and slid two fingers inside you. You were drenched enough for his fingers to just slip right in. He hummed at the feeling of your walls clenching around his digits and moaned in anticipation of feeling that around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet hmmm,” he praised you. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

You whined, trying to fuck yourself on his hand. “Please I want your cock so bad.”

He gripped your hip with his free hand to stop your grinding and you choked out a sob. You had been close at least three times already. “If you want my cock baby girl, you’re going to have to do what I say for once ok?”

You didn’t respond so he curled his fingers inside you, brushing that sweet spot and it had you screaming. “Ok ok I will I promise! Please just let me cum,” you begged.

“So impatient,” he tutted. “Lean back and show me that pretty little pussy of yours.”

With both his fingers still knuckle deep, you leaned back against the steering wheel and lifted your skirt up. He groaned at the sight as you pulled your panties further to the side. Only then he finally started moving his fingers again, watching them disappear inside you and reappear slick with your arousal. You were a moaning mess as he picked up the pace and then used his other hand to rub tight little circles on the hood of your clit.

“Is it good baby?” He cooed, watching you in admiration.

“Fuck yes Namjoon, you’re so fucking good, I’m so close,” you practically screamed in pleasure.

He smirked. “Tell me when you’re coming.”

You could only nod, helpless to your oncoming orgasm. Namjoon kept thrusting and rubbing you so good you forgot where you were. Stars were threatening to blur your vision. This orgasm was about to destroy you, you could feel it rumbling in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst. You had been denied your sweet release too many times, you were scared Namjoon would deny you again so you didn’t do what you were told, and let the coil snap and shoot pleasure through your entire body. Namjoon knew better. He could feel your walls constricting around his digits, he could feel your thighs tense around his. He knew you were coming, and as soon as he knew you were, he pulled out his drenched fingers and shoved his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

“Oh fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!!!” You screamed at the stretch.

He thrusted into you hard through your orgasm, fingers refusing to leave your clit until you were trembling and your eyes rolled back. He had dreamt about how good your pussy would feel, but he had never imagined you would feel this good. He couldn’t hold back his deep groans as he felt your walls clench around him, coaxing, threatening him to cum after three fucking pumps. He held out, slowing down after your orgasm. He rubbed your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately, guiding you slowly up and down his cock, allowing you to recover.

“I shouldn’t be so nice to you,” he stated almost threateningly. “You didn’t listen to me.”

You didn’t respond, still in a post-orgasm haze.

“I should keep fucking you no matter how fucked out or sensitive you are,” he said through gritted teeth.

You watched him attempt to crane his neck to watch his cock disappear inside you. You saw the strain in his face and neck as he slowly fucked you on his dick. He wasn’t enjoying this as much as he could be.

“Joon, you can do whatever the fuck you want with me,” you deadpanned, staring at him through your lashes.

He only chuckled deeply, still focusing on controlling your rolling hips.

“How about you fuck me from behind?” You suggested innocently. “I know daddy would love to watch his cock disappear into my little hole.”

With that he froze and the grabbed your face to suck it. He growled in the kiss as your words resonated in his mind and caused goosebumps. He couldn’t believe that came out of your mouth and how true those words were. He bit your lip and you broke the kiss but he came back for more before the position would change and he wouldn’t be able to, his possessive side triggered.

When he finally let go of your face, you delicately lifted yourself and turned around so that you were straddling his closed thighs. He pushed the seat back as far as it would go so you’d have more room. He was quick to take advantage of the new position, slapping your ass and grabbing your underwear and pulling to rub against your wetness. You cried and he chuckled. With his seat reclined all the way back, you doubled over against the steering wheel giving him a perfect view of your holes and it was driving him crazy.

“You know I love you right?” He said, wanting you to remember because there was no way he was about to fuck you like he did.

“Don’t ruin the mood Namjoon,” you whined, not having to think about feelings while you were in such heat.

He shook his head and chuckled as he slowly inched his cock inside you, enjoying your whimpers and the way you wiggled your ass for more. As soon as he was lodged fully inside you he began a relentless pace, fucking you even harder than before and not even giving you time to adjust. He had a fist full of your ass cheek, manipulating your movements so he could see your core working on him while he thrusted like a fucking animal. You gripped onto the steering wheel hard, screaming at the landscape through the windshield. While your view was beautiful, it couldn’t beat Namjoon’s. He was transfixed by you, the way your hair cascaded down your arched back, the way your ass slapped against his abdomen and the way the lips of your heat swallowed his cock repetitively. He was in heaven. His biggest, deepest, darkest fantasy was a reality. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

He snaked an arm around you to reach your abused clit and drew circles again. You yelped and groaned, chanting his name like a mantra. And before you had a chance to fathom, he had shoved down on the small of your back so he could stuff his cock even deeper inside you. The spot he hit made your eyes roll back, and he hit it continuously and hard.

“Ahhhh yes fuck, fuck, baby,” you screamed, “you gonna fucking tear me apart.”

Another orgasm was approaching and it made your breathing uneven. You couldn’t do it, you were still sensitive and he was fucking you too hard. His thrust were so forceful, you were bouncing off of his lap. You started to panic, digging your fingernails into his knee.

“Are you gonna cum for me babygirl?” He teased, pulling your hair towards him so he could whisper in your ear. “You gonna cum for daddy?”

“I can’t,” you sobbed.

He chuckled at you sadistically. “You will,” he growled before letting go of your hair and letting you flop back against the steering wheel.

Namjoon finally had control of you, and he was getting drunk off the power. He should have gone easy on you. He should have taken his time and gone nice and slow, for the first time at least but he had waited for this for too long. His primal instincts overruled his reasoning and judgement. All he could think of was how badly he needed to cum but he wouldn’t until you did. He needed feel you tighter than a vice grip around his cock, milking him for all he’s got.

With his nimble fingers on your swollen clit and a particularly perfect thrust to your g-spot you were coming so hard, tears threatened to roll down your cheeks. You let out a silent scream as your body convulsed. The pleasure was so intense you could barely handle it but at the same time you swore, in the moment, you never loved anything more than Namjoon’s cock.

“Good girl,” he praised you through uneven breaths.

He wasn’t long after you however it didn’t feel that way. He kept pounding you, harder and harder, chasing his orgasm and prolonging yours. You were shuddering and clenching wildly around him and soon he was a goner. With a strangled moan he shot his load inside you, his hot cum splashing against your walls. He was still rubbing you through your peak and soon you became so sensitive and completely destroyed, you slapped his hand away and face planted against the steering wheel. The car horn blared as you both caught your breath, both dazed and dazzled from your highs. Your abused hole kept squeezing his softening cock and he slowly pulled out with a hiss. You whimpered as he delicately stroked your core one last time before readjusting your panties, letting his warm seed make a mess of you. When you finally lifted your forehead off the horn, you twisted around to give Namjoon a big kiss, savouring the way he tasted, the passion in the movements of his lips. Then very shakily, you lifted yourself out of his lap and slid back into your seat.

“Joonie, if I knew you were that good, I would have hopped on your cock years ago,” you weakly exclaimed.

He chuckled, tucking himself back into his jeans. “To be completely honest, I don’t come on to girls who have boyfriends, let alone fuck them.”

“He has morals?!” You teased, your eyes widening in fake shock.

“And you don’t?” He snapped with a slight scoff.

Your smiled faded and your eyes went dark. “I pretend I don’t see panties on his bedroom floor that don’t belong to me and he doesn’t question all the time I spend with you,” you uttered coldly. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

While you stared ahead, Namjoon stared at you with disbelief and pity. You were so incredibly lost, unable to decipher what was good and bad, right and wrong. Unable to understand you could do better and treat others better. And in that moment Namjoon realised you and Jungkook were just as bad as each other, just as bad for each other. Jungkook was the only romantic relationship you had known and now he just threw himself into the mix. How could he save you now when he just possibly contributed to stifling your self worth? Rage brewed inside him, rage towards himself and his actions. What you two had was so much more, meant so much more than sex. He was your salvation and now it was tainted because he couldn’t keep his dick in his fucking pants. As he started the car, the more he thought about it the more he couldn’t keep it in.

“What am I to you?”

He stared at you, anxious and hopeful for an answer to confirm your idea of him and your relationship was still good. Desperate for reassurance that you knew he was still your best friend and he would never leave you or hurt you or take advantage of you. He needed you to know he was still here to stay, always

You stared back, your gaze unfaltering. “You’re my ride or die.”

He smiled.

“And don’t you forget it.”

You giggled and then yawned. “No way, you wouldn’t let me.”

Seeing your droopy eyes and small but content smile filled his heart with warmth. He loved you so deeply, deeper than just attraction and sex. He needed you to know that and you did. He grabbed your head and pulled it towards him, planting a kiss on your forehead before finally swerving back onto the highway.

You sighed. “Thank you for tiring me out, I haven’t slept in days.”

He scowled, masking his pride before reaching the backseat and pulling out a blanket. You accepted it, tucking yourself in and curling into a ball.

“Goodnight ____.”

“Goodnight,” you hummed. “I love you, Joonie.”

Namjoon’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I love you too, ____,” he mumbled.

You woke up to Namjoon opening your door for you. He looked exhausted and you couldn’t blame him. It would have been at least midnight and he had been driving for six hours. To say you felt bad was an understatement. He was the kindest most beautiful person you knew. You really didn’t deserve him. Especially when you denied him your heart for all these years and he still offers to carry you up the stairs to your apartment. You declined but he insisted on walking you to your front door.

“You know, you can crash here if you need. I don’t want you driving around while you’re so tired.”

He chuckled and ruffled the top of your hair. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You worry about me so I’m allowed to worry about you,” you argued. “Relationships are a two way street you know.”

Rich, fucking rich, ____, especially coming from you, you thought to yourself cringing away from him.

“Yeah,” he replied. “They are.”

“Joon I didn’t mean it like that-”

“How did you mean it then?” He interrupted you, intrigued rather than irritated.

You wanted to tell him you wanted to be just as good of a friend to him as he was to you. You wanted to tell him you really didn’t deserve him and he should find another girl, a nice one, to fawn over and treat as well as he treated you. You wanted to tell him to treat you as shit as you treated him. Anything to make you feel any less of a bitch. But you couldn’t, because his lips were on yours.

He kissed you softly, out of the blue and before you could even process, you were kissing him back. Your lips molded together like they were meant for each other, like they belonged together. It felt so good to kiss him. Even if you were in your right mind, you don’t think you would be able to pull away. His hands cupped your face controlling the movements. It was all so sweet and passionate you just wanted to melt into him. You held onto his shirt, kissing him back feverishly, enjoying the taste of his mouth, the wetness and softness of his lips. When he pulled away you almost whined.

“Ask me to stay again,” he murmured desperately, his forehead against yours.

Your jacket pocket then vibrated. Namjoon sighed disconnecting your foreheads. The moment, ruined. Whoever was calling you, you were about to let them have it. Either answer in a cuss or hang up and answer in a cuss over text. You were livid.... Until you saw the caller ID.

Jungkook...

“Oh,” you mumbled.

You looked up at Namjoon and he was staring at your phone, jaw clenched. What were you to do now? You knew you shouldn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. It would be the biggest slap in the face. But god, you wanted to no matter how intensely Namjoon gazed into your pupils.

Namjoon was the one you should be with. Namjoon loved you. Namjoon had cared for you and looked after you all his life. Namjoon was good for you. Namjoon made sense.

You swiped right across your screen.

“Fuck babe, I’m so sorry I was so fucked.”

His voice made your heart skip a bloody beat. No matter how much of a dropkick loser he was, his effect on you never faltered. Your whole being soften at his lame apology. You sighed, half recollecting your thoughts, half hating yourself for being so susceptible to him. You held back tears, knowing what you were going to say next. He called you babe again to coax a response but it only made you drop the phone from your ear so he couldn’t hear the sob you choked on. Disappointment flooded through you and ignited the intense self-loathing that plummeted you into the abyss of Jeon Jungkook.

You turned back to Namjoon but he wasn’t there. He was gone, leaving you with the sound of his truck revving and screeching off onto the road. Leaving you with an overwhelmingly sunken feeling in your chest, knowing that his chest would have felt a hundred times heavier. You just broke his heart.

You lifted the phone back to your ear.

“I know, baby, it’s ok.”

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 7 years

Text

Aaron Hotchner (And Rafael Barba) / Snipped

A Soulmate AU

Born without a soulmate. Each person has the red string of fate connected them to another, a light line around their smallest finger. And she grew older, she watched her friends’ lines grew darker as they came face to face their soulmate, but her own remained stagnant. Most find their soulmate by their twenties, even early thirties, but not she. She was different, an anomaly. A freak. And she had resigned herself, to a life without love. Until she joined the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. And that’s where our story begins.

“I’m not supposed to fall in love with you,” Or so Aaron Hotchner told himself, as he did the thousand times your lips glided over his just as they did now, his doubts slipping away from him just like your arms did around his neck, rocking his body against yours. The friction was deliciously distracting, but even so, the same thought repeated over and over. Just like your lips repeatedly pressed loving kisses against his neck, dainty fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt, allowing you to pull his collar away. How many times had he told himself this? How many times would you two find yourselves in this exact situation before it became a problem? Hell, he thought, as you buried yourself in the crook of his neck, it already was.

His gaze fell upon your fingers. He then took your hand in his own. “Aaron, what are you-” He pulled the ring gently from your finger, setting it on his desk.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” And as your fingers intertwined, the truth was side by side: one with a white line and one without one at all.

The two of you had really found each other:

A stringless and a snipped.

Aaron would never forget the first you said when he asked you about your peculiar predicament. Though he didn’t want to pry, the FBI had a certain need to know every minute detail about their agents, and Strauss was definitely no exception. But to his surprise, you weren’t offended nor were you upset, but you simply shrugged, stating: “I suppose you could say I’m unlucky,” Aaron Hotchner raised an eyebrow at that remark. But you had argued it was the only word “apt enough” to describe it, a pout forming on your features. And now, looking back, he couldn’t help but agree.

“And how does it make you feel?” A laugh escaped from your lips when he asked that, and he could feel embarrassment rise to his cheeks, but he hoped you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry, it’s just a weird question,” He waved you off.

“No, it is, but I’m required to ask you since not having a soulmate can cause psychological issues in certain people,” He chose his words carefully, but not bothering to coddle you, which you seemed to appreciate

You nodded thoughtfully, “Well, I don’t feel particularly angry about it, if that’s what you mean. The feeling itself is hard to describe,” You licked your lips as you considered his question. “It’s like being surrounded by others who all share something, a common human experience that I’m not lucky enough to have.” Your fingers drummed against the arm of the chair, as your eyes fell on the table. “It’s like being left out of a club everyone else was in without trying out. A problem no one could tell me how to fix,”

Aaron nodded, a bit of pity creeping into his expression, but he pushed it aside. You weren’t someone to pitied, that clear by your record and your demeanor. “Why did you join the FBI?”

“As you know, this,” Gesturing to your ring adorned finger, “isn’t so common where I’m from. A small town was no place for secrets to thrive, and since I was unlucky enough to born in one, I left.”

And you remembered why well. As a child, everyone heard the stories, of how when you met your soulmate, the string around your finger would begin to turn, and as your relationship developed it would only grow darker and darker. The red string of fate that connected one to another, two halves made into a whole. And through your other half, you would find your way through the world, towards love.

Though as children, this story was practically gospel, humans were fickle, and often untrusting of fate. And so, you watched your friends date, ones who did not change their soul as it were, ones who they vowed to stay with, ones who dared to defy fate, but those relationships only ended in tears, pain, and broken hearts. Each time you would hold a different friend’s hand as they cried, only for their eyes to fall on your finger and cry even harder. It was then you decided to spare yourself the trouble, instead turning your eyes to your finger and the day you would meet your soulmate, as you mother often told you. A romantic and practical notion, rolled into one.

But, the notion remained simply that: a notion.

Eventually, your friends’ strings did darken, blooming from a pale white to a rosy pink and finally to a deep red. Their joy, their excitement: it was almost contagious. Almost being the operative word. As your teens passed by, as did your twenties, and your fate only seemed as clear and plain as the almost non-existent stagnant line of your finger: you were alone. Stringless. You went through the stages of grief for a partner you never had; denial made itself at home for a few years; while anger was brought to a boiling point only in a few months; bargaining only left its mark for only a week; depression came and went; and then acceptance: it simply wasn’t meant for you. And over time, you had accepted the whispers, the judgement, even the stares, but you couldn’t accept your family’s disappointment.

So you left, and you never looked back.

Instead, you found your fate not in a string, but with a gun. You enrolled in the FBI’s program, going through training and earning your stripes, as it were. Ring still firmly placed on your finger, though you knew that FBI was curious as well about your situation. They had made note of everyone who had found their mate and those who hadn’t or who had lost their mate. You had pitied the ones who had lost their mate in some twist of fate: the snipped. Their lines had been cut too soon, completely disappearing just as their partner did. To know a love like that and then lose it, you weren’t too sure if you would survive. Although, you weren’t sure you would survive the training either.

Your days were filled with early mornings, physical drills, mentally taxing tasks, late nights, and one too many coffees, but you still couldn’t help the thought that snuck into your mind as you collapsed on the bed each night: where was the person who was supposed to be lying beside you? Did they die at a young age? In their sleep, in an accident, or in a hospital bed full of tubes? Or did they simply not exist? And as you entered your thirties, these thoughts became more frequent as it almost seemed that your fate was sealed. With each year that passed, the chances grew slimmer for you.

The most difficult part was not accepting it, but moving past it.

It was like acknowledging something that never truly was. And something that truly would never be. Or so you believe.

“Dr. L/N?” A deep voice pulled you from your reverie, as you stared back at the man across the table at one Aaron Hotchner. The best you could describe him was tall, dark, and serious, not that he wasn’t handsome. To say the contrary, he indeed was very handsome. His dark hair fell casually over his forehead, his expression curious as you blinked and remembered where you were. Sat before the Unit Chief of the BAU at an interview, one that you completely clocked out of for a few moments. Your face flushed red as Agent Hotchner crossed his legs, shifting as he reminded you: “We were discussing your…situation,” You had to bite back another smile at his absolute reluctance to bring this up. You knew he did not want to be discussing your personal life, but due to bureaucracy, he couldn’t seem to avoid it.

“Yes, I remember,” A knowing smile on your lips. This wasn’t a conversation you would soon forget in the coming days. “I suppose I should show you,” You pulled off your ring, showing your finger to him. A thin white band was wrapped around your pinky, not a hint of color visible. Fear bubbled in your stomach, as a small, irrational part of you expected him to kick you out right there and then, calling you an abnormality, a glitch in the system who simply didn’t belong, but he seemed unaffected by it, only a hint of curiosity evident in his expression. You pushed the ring back on, a small burden to carry, a physical reminder. “It’s not something I hide, but it’s not something I share either,”

“You’ll be hard pressed to hide anything from profilers,” Hotch admitted, as he looked up from his file, “And they are the best of the best, they will figure it out.”

You backpedaled, explaining yourself. “I know, and when they find out, they find out, but their profiling is not going to deter me from taking this job, That’s the whole reason I applied,” You sat up, leaning forward in your seat. “I lived in a teeny, tiny hamlet, where everyone used to stare at me because they knew, whisper, sometimes they would ask me straight to my face. I’m used to be profiled, judged, and even looked down upon,” He nodded, as he considered your stern expression. “But I don’t want to be treated differently,”

“I believe you, and believe me when I say, you will not receive any differential treatment,” His gaze was reassuring, his hands folded on his desk. “And let me add that you can rely on the team. You can count on us.”

“Do you, count on them?” He glanced at the window where they were hidden behind the shutters.

A small smile graced his lips. “I’ve almost never relied on anyone more,”

You smiled at his honesty, “I have to say, you make a good advocate for your team. It must be the lawyer in you coming out… Oh, I googled you,” You added as he gaped at your sudden confession, the small amount of awkwardness melting away as humor crossed his expression.

“You Googled me?” His tone took on a teasing lilt, his lips quirking upwards in a small smile. “What else did you find?”

“That’s for me to know,” You sat back in your seat, shrugging. “Especially with all you know about my history, it’s good to have a little mystery,”

You swore that he chuckled, as he got to his feet, hiding a smile with a turned back. “Fair enough, please follow me.” He escorted you out of the interview room to his office, walking past the bullpen where several people pretended to look busy, while their eyes remained split between half-glances and full on stares. SSA Hotchner unlocked the door, allowing you to step into his office. He shut the door behind you, as you sat on one of the plush chairs across from his desk, as he shut the curtains. “I’m sorry. Profilers are the worst at hiding their own behavior,”

“Perhaps because they spend all day analyzing it,” You chuckled, as he took his own seat at his desk. Your eyes flickered to the things on his desk, including several photographs of young boy presumably his son, a woman about his age you assumed was his wife, and even of some of the people you saw in the bullpen. He cleared his throat, catching your attention. “Well, when can I start, Agent Hotchner?”

“You can call me Hotch,” He said carefully, his voice still hesitant as he considered you. “But before you start, it’s a matter of making things clear that this is a temporary position for you until we can see whether it’s a good fit. We’ve had a lot of agents in and out of this unit in the past few years, and I want the next one to stick.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to be rid of me,” He held out his hand, and you took it.

“Glad to hear it,” And as you shook his hand, you noticed something, his finger. His line wasn’t there at all, no ring either. As your eyes met, you saw his eyes momentarily move to the picture of the woman and the boy. The boy had Hotch’s eyes, but her nose. An understanding seemed to pass between the two of you: you were almost one in the same, people stuck in the same limbo with no way out. And without another word, he let go of your hand, the moment gone.

His string was snipped.

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